Of all the things Sean Kendrick has conjured in years of yearning for an independent life, buying the right to his water-horse stallion, Corr, was a thing he only folded inside his heart, until he was assailed anew by the brew of feelings that had churned in him at the terrible clear-eyed certainty that it was now or never. Four-years running champion of The Scorpio Races, he is locally reputed as the best capaill uisce trainer, but he remains bound to the wealthy Malverns for whom he works as a stable hand.
Sean Kendrick has carved his life out of the land of sea and sand and fatal, beautiful horses. Every first of November-a date bound to loom large in the landscape of the islanders’ mind-the Scorpio Races are held, and young men compete in a beachfront race to the death astride the capaill uisce, with such longing in them, all bound up in hesitancy, as though they yearned for connection, but the mounts didn’t reciprocate their desires. With these haunting words laid out like a feast of uncertainty and doom, Maggie Stiefvater launches a new telling of an old tale inspired by elements of Celtic mythology, legends of the water horses, and her own imagination.Īnd nothing had ever been more beautiful, or fearsome, or bizarre.Įach October, dread settles over the island of Thisby, as The Scorpio sea throws capaill uisce-commonly known as water horses-onto its shore, and a hint of fear mingles with the ocean breeze as the dreamlike unreality of such delectable creatures warries with the gruesome truth of their deadly nature.
“ It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.”
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