[CONTENTID1]The Other Side of Glory[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]Glory Fear[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

Xiumin tapped his riding crop on the light cream jodhpurs he wore, covered up to the knee with black boots that closely encased his thighs. And tucked into them was a green silk shirt. He wasn’t sure if he had dressed so well merely for the chance of Luhan spotting him, or for the race. It was only another small handicap and a different horse, Histrionic. He had ridden him just once before, he was only a two year old, he had a long way to go. It was a small race, only four other horses, and the purse didn’t break a thousand American dollars. He would receive $50 for riding the horse, but he needed to get used to the feel of Histrionic if he was to be expected to ride him later on in the bigger races. Knowing the ins and outs of a horses certain habits, gait, stride, what type of racer they were, what surfaces they ran best in – it was all part of his process.

He never raced as well on a horse he didn’t know. He saw Luhan out of the corner of his eye and scoffed, tapping the crop just a little harder against his knee.  He winced slightly as the stiff leather came down with more force than he had intended. What was he even doing there? The stands were practically empty, only the diehard racing fanatics and the owners were there. Betting wasn’t allowed in the United Arab Emirates, and thus, the fanatics were also few.

Luhan was stalking him, that was the only conclusion that could be had. He certainly didn’t have anything to do with the other two year olds in the area.

He saw Saeed give him the signal to come and mount up, and he trotted over, gait so like a horse’s – he could see Luhan’s smirk as he passed. A habit of Xiumin’s, picked up from being around the animals so long. Something he had always teased about, liked about…He needed to stop this and stop it now.

Slinging himself onto the back of the stunningly pretty stallion, all black ink, he tapped his feet. Listening carefully to Saeed’s last instructions, he found his mind was still all too firmly stuck on what Luhan must have thought. Seeing him astride a horse, riding so well – Luhan had always told him it was the stuff of late night bedroom fantasies. Xiumin flushed with embarrassment as he recalled those whispered words after the winning of the Kentucky Derby on Disraelian.

That was a sobering enough thought, and immidiatly his facial features resumed their normal stiff, blank and unemotional.

The race was over in an instant and Xiumin found he could not recall a single detail. Hanging his head, filled with irritation, self-disappointment, and fear. That had been an absolutely unforgivable run. Dead last. What was wrong with him? And he knew it hadn’t been the horse. Even now, beneath him Histrionic vibrated with unused tension and boundless energy. Histrionic was a good horse. He hadn’t been a good rider.

Saeed greeted him at the sidelines, but Xiumin refused to meet his eyes as he slid the muddied goggles from his eyes and wiped away the grime.

“What was that?” Saeed asked, and Xiumin knew within his tone that he was one step away from unemployment from one of the richest stables in the country.

“A mistake, sir,” he murmured, “My apology is not enough, but I give it anyway. I will forfeit any earnings from this race.”

“You’ll forfeit more than that,” Saeed grumbled lowly and Xiumin’s stoic mask fell. He felt Histrionic shift under him nervously and he hurriedly dismounted.

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