I had little hope for today, but I was finally allowed to wear something simple. Vivian simple, that is. A colorful blouse and trousers. Whether that counted as proper riding attire, I had no idea, but it was the only thing in my wardrobe that looked remotely believable.

So far mud tracked its way up my books. Unlike the castle back home with its flowered garden; this one was surrounded in a well kept–trained–forest. Where paths of stone, cobble, and dirt, twisted around its base and through the trees. I couldn’t guess half their destinations if I tried. Buckley, however, led me through each fork in the road without a second guess.

“My Lady?” she asked as we followed one of the narrower dirt paths. “Does your family go riding often?”

“I’m the only one in my family that’s ever cared for riding. Though it's quite the sport come spring. They set up all sorts of competitions across the plains.”

“Have you ever won?”

“Yes, many times. Though no one’s eager to defeat the king's daughter in public.”

“I wouldn’t say that, My Lady. Surely, you deserved every win.”

The scent of damp soil and pine clung to everything. And when the trees finally thinned, the stables came into view. A large, arched wooden structure. It was dark, full of hay, and some horses hung their heads lazily over the half-doors.

Liam stood right outside beside two stallions. I hoped mine would be the shorter of the two. Not that either could stomp me into the ground.

I can do this. I grew up in a castle of servants. I served Lionel. I made it through dinner with Wulfric. I can make it on a horse.

“Morning, Your Highness,” Liam bowed his head as I approached. “You ready to ride?”

“More than ever. Which one is mine?”

He patted the darker brown stallion, its coat glossy even in the filtered light. “This is Dane. The king’s horse.”

“He’s quite….something.”

Dane’s ears flicked back at the sound of my voice, and he shifted his weight with a heavy snort. I don’t think he liked me. But I was more concerned with how I was meant to get on him.

I studied the saddle carefully. There was a foot holder, straps. Some strange thing at the top.

“Are you going to mount?” Liam asked politely.

“Oh, yes. I was simply admiring him.”

Grabbing what I hoped was the correct part, I placed my foot in the holder and pulled myself up. Far from elegant. I swung my leg over, nearly taking Liam’s head off as I landed.

He handed me the reins then mounted his own horse. All in one smooth motion that bordered on offensive.

I cleared my throat. “What are the commands for this one?”

“The usual. Anything too fancy complicates things.”

“Of course.” I glanced down at Buckley. “Stay close.”

“I’ll be right behind you, My Lady.”

“We’ll take the outer path around the front grounds,” Liam added. “A steady pace.”

I nodded.

He flicked his reins and his horse moved forward like a flowing river. I did the same.

Dane rocketed to a start. The first jolt snapped through my spine and rattled my teeth.

My hands tightened instinctively, which, apparently, was the wrong choice because Dane surged faster as if personally offended by my existence.

“Steady!” I hissed under my breath, attempting at what I hoped looked like control.

The saddle creaked beneath me as I bounced. My boots slipped deeper into the footholders. My knees clamped his sides, trying to find any sort of balance. Yet it was like hugging a moving wall.

The ground felt uneven beneath his hooves, each stride pounding through my body. My shoulders stiffened. I tried to imitate Liam’s calm posture. He rode as if the horse were an extension of himself. I rode as if I had been attached by accident.

Then, off in the distance on a winding stone path, I saw Wulfric standing. He was watching us. Staring me down with a slight smile on his face. He found my riding amusing.

That—

Dane tossed his head and stamped at the ground. Agitated by something, he rocked me back and forth.

“Liam!” I shouted out in a panic, gripping the horse's neck.

He whipped his head around, and upon seeing Dane’s frantic dance, he raced towards me. Grabbing some part of the saddle, he forced the horse into a calm stance. Easing its panic while Buckley rushed over to help me down.

I dismounted—or rather slid down in controlled defeat—clutching on Buckley’s shoulder. The world around me spun and the scent of horse sweat wasn’t doing any good. I barely made it to the nearest bush before losing every bit of dignity I had left that morning.

Buckley held back my hair, dabbing my mouth with her sleeve. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s happened to everyone at least once. Right, Liam?”

“Oh, lots. Perhaps we should take a short pause,” Liam suggested gently, securing both horses to a low branch.

“Is everything alright?” Another voice asked. It was breathless, yet calm. Wulfric.

My eyes widened as my gaze met his. He’d run all the way over.

“Everything is fine. More than fine,” I said, brushing dirt from my trousers.

Wulfric’s gaze flicked briefly toward the bush, then back to me. “It didn’t appear so.”

“Your horse is….spirited. I’m accustomed to the calmer breeds of the East.”

“I see.” His tone was thoughtful rather than mocking. “Then allow me to ride with you. It was my instruction that you come. So it would be ill–mannered of me to leave you with him alone.”

Vivian would be offended—thinking someone was insulting her riding skills. She’d take the chance to show off to him, but it’s not like I’m any good. Yet, I can’t risk telling him no.

“You are very gracious, Your Highness. I accept.”

We mounted again.

Wulfric settled into his saddle with quiet authority, no wasted movement, no flash. Buckley helped me back onto Dane, trying her best to make it as elegant as possible. Then went back to Liam where she kept an anxious distance behind us.

“Relax your shoulders,” Wulfric said. “He feels tension before you do. If you grip him like a threat, he’ll become one.”

I released some tension in my body, keeping my grip firm on the reins.

“Good. The reins guide direction, not control. Your seat determines pace. Your legs give instruction. Pressure to ask. Release to reward.” He didn’t rush the words. “And look ahead. Horses follow certainty. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” I replied. “It reminds me of my lessons as a girl.”

We began a walk.

Dane’s movement steadied beneath me, no longer explosive but gentle—contained. And gradually, something shifted. The rhythm began to make sense. The sway no longer fought me, and my body relaxed as a whole. Confidence crept in quietly. I wasn’t overthinking every hand placement and jerk. It was peaceful.

“Do you ride often, Your Highness?” I asked.

“Less than I wish,” he answered. “And you?”

“I feel the same. Though these passing months give me less and less time. I fear I’m growing rusty.”

“You’re not. You recover quickly and take advice well. There’s not many I can say the same about.”

“You should have seen my first lesson. I rode directly into a river. They had to drag both horse and rider out. I was the subject of whispers for a month.”

A faint laugh escaped his lips.

I’d only seen glances of Vivian’s performance. She’s said to be the best rider in our kingdom—I don’t think I was giving that impression here.

“Edric,” he said after a moment, “once lost his sword. A handcrafted blade. The hilt was carved with an owl. The balance suited him perfectly.”

“I can’t imagine that. What happened to it?”

“Everyone asked, but he’d never say. So they invented all sorts of stories: broken in battle, stolen by thieves, melted as punishment. My favorite was that my father confiscated it out of envy.”

“And the truth?”

“He gave it to me. Taught me.” Wulfric’s gaze remained forward. “I asked for it incessantly. However, my mother forbade weapon training before twelve.”

“Edric disobeyed the queen?”

“He made a decision.” His voice was steady. “He believed the castle would be safer if I was prepared. So he taught me at night. Quietly.”

There was no boast in it. Only memory.

I hesitated. “I share a moment of humiliation, and you answer with something… gentler. Are you attempting to restore my pride?”

One corner of his mouth lifted faintly. “I do not find it necessary to restore what has not been lost.”

Our eyes met.

The forest light caught in his expression, softening it.

Only for the next second; his jaw tightened and his posture straightened. His gaze shifted forward again and he didn’t look at me or say another word.

Like I’d become a ghost.

I kept my mouth shut in the ever growing silence, wondering what I’d done wrong. Was I too casual? What if he noticed something was off? That—or I offended him…

By the time we made it back to the stables, everything in me was numb, tense, and tired.

Wulfric dismounted first and handed his reins to Liam, muttering to him before giving me a slight bow—measured and formal.

“Princess,” he said.

And then he was gone.

My mind went blank as I got off my horse, refusing to acknowledge or ponder what he could’ve told him. Riding was enough for today. I can worry about that tomorrow or never.

“Did you enjoy the ride, My Lady?”

“Um, yes,” I said truthfully. “It was enlightening.”

I clung to the bright side. Despite vomiting, possibly ruining my cover, and… everything else, I learned to ride a horse, somewhat. Even survived a ride beside the king. Not many servants would ever be able to say similar.

Lucky for them, I thought.

“Princess Vivian! How good it is to see you.”

My head ached.

I turned around and saw Lady Fabienne approaching with polished grace and perfectly arranged curls.

“What brings you here?” I asked smoothly.

“I leave shortly on business for my father. Only a week’s absence, but I’m so glad I caught you! When I return, I would adore tea together.”

Vivian would adore it.

I would not.

“A week?”

“Yes.”

“I look forward to it.”

She beamed. “Until then, Your Grace.”

She gave a low curtsy then hastened to the horses being prepared for her—brushed and golden.

Once she was out of earshot, I leaned toward Buckley.

“Find me an escape. Any excuse for that, will you?”

“I can try, My Lady, but avoiding her for long wouldn’t be wise. The last noble who slighted her found his reputation dismantled within a month. His title was almost stripped.”

“How?”

“Her father’s influence. Some say it rivals a king’s.”

I sighed. “I’ve heard that said about every man with an inch of power.”