Free Blaze and the Dark Rider by Stacy Gregg Page A

really,
really
wants me to make the team,” Morgan said. “She wants me to ride for Chevalier Point in the Gold Shield like she did when she was my age.”
    “I’m sure Avery just chose Natasha because she’s been at pony club for longer than you have,” Issie offered hopefully.
    Morgan looked at her darkly. “I didn’t expect you to understand. The Gold Shield means everything to Mum. I need to get my name on it, just like she did,” she said. There was a chill in her voice now as she turned to Issie and wiped away the tear. “Anyway, you’d better catch up with the others. You don’t want to let your team down,” and she spun Jack around and kicked him on into a canter, leaving Issie standing alone and wondering what she had done wrong.

Chapter 8
    True to her word, Francoise had left the girls’ tickets at the door for the matinee session of El Caballo Danza Magnifico.
    “Wow!” Stella was impressed. “These must be the best seats in the house. We’re so close to the arena we could almost touch the horses as they go past.”
    “Maybe we will actually get to touch them,” Issie said. “Francoise is going to show us around backstage after the show and she said she would introduce us to the horses and riders.”
    “I doubt it,” Natasha sniffed. “They don’t just let the public go backstage, you know. These are very valuable animals.” She turned to Issie. “When are wegoing to see the dancing mares that look so much like your mongrel pony?”
    “They don’t come on until later. It’s the stallions first,” Issie replied.
    The matinee show was very much like the performance the girls had seen when they came for Issie’s birthday. But none of them minded watching it a second time. When the white stallions came out doing a Spanish Walk, with their legs lifting out into the air in an exaggerated flamenco prance, the girls clapped and cheered louder than anyone. They held their breath when Marius strutted into the arena, kicking his hindquarters elegantly back in a Capriole. They were sitting so close they could smell the horse sweat keenly in their nostrils and hear the grunts and snorts as Marius performed the most spectacular
haute école
movements.
    As Marius left the ring, Issie looked at the programme that each of them had been given with their tickets. “The Arabian mares are next,” she said excitedly. “They’re going to do the Dance of the Seven Veils. Listen to this…” Issie began to read out loud from the programme.
    “The Dance of the Seven Veils is performed by the school’s six prized Anglo-Arab mares, all of whom share the same ancient Arabian bloodlines. These horses have been trained in the movements of the
haute école
like prima ballerinas, schooled by the famous Francoise D’arth, senior rider at El Caballo Danza Magnifico, formerly the head trainer at the Cadre Noir de Saumur in France. The Dance of the Seven Veils is an ancient tale. It was famously performed for the wicked King Herod by the beautiful Salome.”
    Suddenly there was a hush throughout the arena as the lights went out and the spotlights were trained once more on the sawdust floor of the ring. There was the faint tinkle of saddle bells and strains of exotic music, then the audience started clapping as the dancing Arabians cantered gracefully into the arena.
    Blaze could be an Anglo-Arab just like these mares
, Issie thought. If that were true then, like Natasha said, she must be worth a fortune. The Arabians were all a deep, burnished liver chestnut with pale creamy flaxen manes and tails. Today their manes had been plaited up and the horses each wore scarves of silk chiffonknotted into their braided manes to match the veils worn by their riders.
    Issie spotted Francoise D’arth immediately. She was leading at the front of the ride, wearing a veil and harem pants in deep midnight blue covered with tiny clusters of diamond stars. As she rode past Issie she raised one hand to give her a wave, and Issie