Neve returned to her bed chamber, skin covered in a visible layer of sweat and dirt. She was exhausted–she felt it deep in her bones. Every step forward required all her strength. It was as if her legs were weighed down by stones.

It had been a week since Neve’s training in Ironhold had begun. Under the observant eye of Sir Oliver, Neve had dutifully completed her rigorous training regimen every day.

While Neve was a Rosentine, she wasn’t invincible. The training had taken a heavy toll on her body. Her feet were blistered and her palms had been rubbed raw. It was a miracle she could even stand, perhaps due to the impressive blood running through her veins.

The sight of her bed, covered in plush pillows and thick pelts, was enticing. Neve stumbled forward in a daze, intending to dive directly into bed and sleep until morning.

But hands reached out and grabbed Neve as she fell.

“Lady Neve, you mustn't!” a young, feminine voice cried. “You’re covered in filth.”

Ah, the cursed maids, Neve thought, sighing inwardly. 

“We’ve prepared a bath for you, My Lady,” another voice said. “It will only take a few moments.”

Neve knew it was a lie, but she let herself be escorted to the bathroom adjoining her bed chamber. The two maids supported Neve from both sides as they walked. They were young, probably daughters of minor nobles in Duke Fallon’s fief. Neve didn’t recognize them, having lived outside of Ironhold for years.

Her bathroom was modest, containing a single tub. It was filled with hot water, steam shrouding the small room. A familiar floral scent filled the air–oils the maids had added to the water.

“We shall undress you know, My Lady,” the brunette maid murmured, mindful of Neve’s tiredness.

The maids began to peel off Neve’s soiled clothing. It stuck to her skin, the mixture of sweat and dirt creating a sort of glue. Had Neve been in the right state of mind, she would have been mortified.

“You’re quite muscular, My Lady,” the younger, darker-haired maid commented. “Your training must be working!”

The brunette maid shot the younger maid a warning glare, but neither Neve nor the maid took notice.

The younger maid pivoted her body so she was facing an ornate wall-length mirror. Neve looked up, meeting the maid’s eyes in the reflection. She raised her eyebrows, as if to say “look.”

So Neve looked. Indeed, her body had changed in the short period of one week. The lines of her muscles had grown defined, casting long shadows in the candlelight. Neve ran a hand down her arms, which had grown hard and sinewy.

She flexed her arm, despite her muscles protesting. “It appears so,” Neve agreed.

“It’s quite attractive,” the younger maid blurted out. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand, the tips of her ears turning red.

“Mary!” the brunette maid hissed. She forcefully lowered the younger maid’s head and bowed her own. “My apologies for her insolence, Lady Neve.”

Neve laughed, a genuine smile forming. She only shook her head, her spirits lifted by the young maid’s clumsiness. “It’s fine. In fact, I’m quite flattered.”

She winked at the young maid–Mary–who was peeking up at Neve through her bangs. Mary flushed even more, averting her eyes. Neve resisted the urge to laugh again.

“Now, I need your help getting into the bath,” Neve said. “I’m afraid I don’t have the strength to lift my legs.”

The sun had yet to rise, the barely illuminated sky casting a faint glow over the castle grounds. Still, Neve traced the familiar path to the training grounds from her bedroom with absolute ease. She had fallen into the routine fairly easily–even waking at this ghastly hour.

Her body had recovered overnight almost entirely, only slight soreness remaining in her limbs. 

Neve now relished the crisp northern winds. They had made training more bearable. She could only pity the Capital knights who trained through the city’s sometimes scorching summers. 

She turned a corner absentmindedly, colliding with a solid body. Despite her tall stature, she bounced off the offender ineffectually.

“Oh, Lady Neve!” Oliver exclaimed. “Perfect, I was just going to fetch you.”

Neve eyed him warily, knowing Oliver never bore good news. “Why?”

“You should see your expression, My Lady,” Oliver chuckled. “You’re not happy to see me, I take it.”

“Would you be, if you were in my position?” Neve quipped, schooling her features. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Sir Oliver?”

“You’ll have to see, My Lady,” Oliver replied vaguely. Though a telling smile gave away his good intentions. Or so Neve hoped.

The knight led Neve away from the training grounds, following another pathway. It led to only one other location, so Neve was unsure why Oliver had been so elusive.

“The stables,” Neve said. “Not much of a surprise.”

“You could at least pretend,” Oliver replied petulantly. “Forgive me for trying to have a little fun.”

Neve rolled her eyes. “You’ve decided on my horse, then.”

“Indeed, I have,” the knight confirmed, sounding proud of himself. “I think you’ll appreciate my decision.”

The stables finally appeared in view. They were quite large, as they accommodated the duchy’s draft horses, pack horses, and carriage horses. Neve wrinkled her nose at the telltale scent of, well, livestock. 

“His name is Yule, if you want a hint,” Oliver teased. 

Neve followed Oliver to the stall containing her horse. She was excited, almost childishly so. She enjoyed horseback riding, both in her years in Ironhold and the Capital.

A magnificent white stallion was waiting for her.

The horse stood tall, though he wasn’t too large for Neve’s frame. His muscles were well-defined and sturdy. But most striking was the horse’s lustrous white coat, which shone even in the dim morning light. The white fur faded into black down the horse’s legs and snout.

“He’s quite regal,” Neve managed after a moment of awed silence.

“He’s of the finest stallions I’ve ever seen,” Oliver said, shaking his head at Neve’s underwhelming response. 

The knight opened the stall door, grabbing the horse’s reins.

“Take today to ride with Yule. You should get to know each other before you embark,” Oliver said. “Plus, you need a day of rest to allow your muscles to recover.”

He passed Yule’s reins to Neve, who accepted them readily.

“I have no disagreements,” Neve replied, smiling slightly. She reached up to pet her horse’s muzzle. “Though, I would hardly call this a rest day.”

“You’ll eat your words when you start next week’s training,” Oliver smirked. 

“I’d ride away and never come back, if I had half a mind to do so,” Neve huffed, shoving past Oliver. Yule trailed obediently behind her.

“You’d miss me too much!” Oliver called out at Neve’s retreating form. She snorted, knowing he couldn’t hear her.