Someone opened the curtains with the confidence of a person who had never once considered dawn an act of violence. Pale morning light spilled across the room, struck me directly in the face, and transformed sleep into immediate hatred before I had worked out where I was or why the universe had chosen to punish me. I made a sound into the pillow that probably did not qualify as language and dragged the blankets over my head. My tail, which had spent the night curled comfortably along the backs of my legs, tucked itself closer as if it agreed that anything existing outside the bed could wait until civilization resumed at a reasonable hour.
“Good morning, Radiance.”
“No.”
Renee sounded entirely too awake. Worse, she sounded dressed, which meant she had already completed whatever impossible ritual allowed adults to become functional before sunrise without committing murder.
“We leave shortly after breakfast.”
“No.”
“You said that already.”
“It remains correct.”
The blankets shifted near my shoulder when Renee caught their edge, and I tightened my grip before she could pull them away. Somewhere during the night I had cried myself into exhaustion over Samantha, Cassia, and enough accumulated regret to make consciousness feel particularly unnecessary this morning. My eyes felt heavy, my face felt wrong in the vague way faces did after too much crying, and I had no interest in discovering what any of that looked like under direct sunlight.
Renee tugged again while I curled more tightly around the pillow and felt one horn press awkwardly into it. Even hiding from morning now required anatomical accommodations.
“Radiance.”
“Tell Father I died.”
“I suspect His Majesty would take that poorly.”
“Then tell him I was murdered.”
“By whom?”
“The morning.”
Renee sighed with the weary patience of someone who had apparently dealt with versions of this behavior long before yesterday. “You agreed to leave at first light.”
“I agreed while the sun was not present to defend itself.”
“That does not invalidate the agreement.”
“It should.”
The blankets disappeared in one decisive pull, and cool air struck my bare arms where the nightgown had ridden slightly upward. I opened my eyes just enough to glare at Renee and discovered that my earlier assessment had been correct. She was fully dressed, her hair arranged, her traveling clothes immaculate, and there was not a single visible indication that she considered consciousness at this hour unnatural.
“You look offensive.”
“I look awake.”
“Exactly.”
Her expression softened once she got a proper look at me. One hand rose slightly before stopping short of touching my face, and the change was subtle enough that someone less exhausted might have pretended not to notice.
“You did not sleep well.”
“I slept perfectly until someone attacked the curtains.”
“That was not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Renee watched me for another moment, taking in whatever evidence last night had left behind, but mercifully chose not to ask. I appreciated that enough to push myself upright. An avalanche of pale hair fell over my shoulders as I moved, mostly smooth despite having slept on it, which immediately reminded me that the System’s ridiculous bathing reward had already justified its existence.
My body objected to sitting with the heavy reluctance of someone who wanted another three hours. That part, at least, required no adjustment at all. I had hated mornings before yesterday, and apparently becoming a princess had done nothing to improve them.
Renee crossed to the washstand and returned with a cool cloth. I accepted it without argument and pressed it over my eyes, nearly moaning when the chill soothed the lingering puffiness around them.
“Breakfast is being set downstairs, and the stable expects the horses shortly,” she said. “You need to dress.”
“I am dressed.”
“You are wearing a nightgown.”
“That is clothing.”
“It is not traveling clothing.”
“It could be.”
“It will not be.”
I lowered the cloth and found her standing beside the clothes already arranged near the dressing screen with the infuriating calm of someone who knew she was going to win.
“You have become very authoritarian since acquiring a horse.”
“I have always been authoritarian. You simply slept through more of it when you were younger.”
There was no lived memory attached to the statement, only the easy affection in her voice and the peculiar ache of knowing she remembered a childhood that was mine even though I could not yet reach it. I chose not to examine that before coffee and got out of bed instead.
My feet touched the cool floor, my tail dragged briefly across the blankets before slipping free, and Renee handed me the first garment before I had fully committed to standing. I took it automatically. A moment later she stepped closer and began helping guide the fabric into place while I lifted one arm without thinking. I noticed halfway through what I was doing.
“I can dress myself.”
“I am aware.”
“You are actively dressing me.”
“You are actively allowing it.”
I looked down and discovered that I had, in fact, raised my other arm because she was adjusting something at my side. I dropped it immediately, accomplishing nothing except making her pause with the expression of someone watching a competent adult deliberately create more work out of principle.
“That proves nothing.”
“It proves you are sleepy.”
“I have a doctorate.”
Renee stopped with both hands near my waist and looked up at me. “I still have no idea what that means.”
The answer killed my argument so efficiently that I stared at her. “It means I am very educated.”
“You are also wearing the wrong stocking on the wrong leg.”
I looked down, then back at her. “They have sides?”
“These do.”
“That is stupid.”
Renee laughed under her breath and resumed helping before I could lodge a formal protest against asymmetrical hosiery. The strange thing was how ordinary the assistance felt whenever I stopped concentrating on it. My body turned when she needed access to a fastening, lifted an arm when fabric needed to pass beneath it, and shifted my tail clear without instruction. None of those movements decided anything for me. They were simply habits embedded deeply enough that cooperating with a lady-in-waiting required about as much conscious thought as stepping aside when someone opened a door.
That did not mean I had to like discovering how much of royal adulthood apparently involved being handled by other people before breakfast.
By the time Renee finished, I was dressed for travel in fitted clothes practical enough for riding while still expensive enough to announce that nobody had seriously intended to disguise the Crown Princess as an ordinary traveler. The outfit was more restrained than yesterday’s court dress, but the tailoring, fabric, and subtle detailing still made anything I had once considered nice clothing look aggressively economical.
My hair came next. Renee drew a brush through one long section, stopped, then tested another with a suspicious little frown when it passed through almost without resistance.
“What did you put in your hair?”
“Magic.”
“That narrows it considerably.”
“The System gave me something.”
“For what?”
I became very interested in the reflection of my freshly polished horns. “An achievement.”
Renee met my eyes in the mirror. “What achievement?”
“It was private.”
Her mouth twitched.
“Extremely private.”
“I see.”
“You see nothing.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“I was thinking.”
“Stop that.”
She resumed brushing with a composure I did not trust. Whatever theories she had developed about the achievement could remain permanently unconfirmed. The fact that the resulting elixir had made my hair dramatically easier to manage did not entitle anyone to know the System had rewarded me for successful personal hygiene.
Renee arranged most of the opalescent length into something practical for riding while leaving enough loose to satisfy standards I apparently possessed even when exhausted. She helped me into a short traveling coat, checked my signet ring, adjusted one last fastening near my shoulder, and finally placed my boots in front of me.
“I can handle boots.”
“I hope so.”
“That sounded insulting.”
“It was hopeful.”
I gave her the expression that deserved and sat down to pull them on. The leather was soft, shaped perfectly to my feet, and comfortable enough that I stood without giving the loose laces much thought. A servant knocked at the corridor door before Renee could conduct another inspection, and the conversation that followed involved supplies being transferred to the cart. She stepped into the hallway after telling me she would meet me downstairs, leaving me alone long enough to escape before she discovered some other royal deficiency requiring immediate correction.
My reflection near the door looked polished, expensive, and far more functional than I felt. The cool cloth had helped, although there was still a faint heaviness around my eyes I doubted any amount of grooming could completely hide. I gave the mirror one final suspicious look, left the room, and made it almost to the landing before Adrian emerged from his own suite.
He was already dressed for travel and looked rested too, which felt personally offensive after the night I had just survived.
“Good morning.”
“No.”
Adrian slowed beside me as a smile began forming at one corner of his mouth. “That enthusiastic?”
“The morning has not earned my cooperation.”
“I was warned you were not fond of early departures.”
“By whom?”
“Observation.”
“We have never departed early together.”
“You are glaring at sunlight.”
“It knows what it did.”
His laugh made something in me loosen despite my determination to remain hostile to everything before breakfast. Adrian in formal clothing had already been unfair. Adrian dressed for travel was somehow worse, because the simpler cut emphasized exactly the shoulders, height, and general excess of masculine proportions I had deliberately considered attractive when creating Radiance. I redirected my attention toward the stairs before my gaze could become any more cooperative.
Adrian’s attention went lower instead, and after another step I realized he was no longer walking beside me. I turned back and found him looking pointedly at my feet.
“What?”
I followed his gaze.
Both sets of bootlaces hung loose.
Adrian looked back up at me. “Were you planning to tie those?”
I stared down at them again. I knew exactly what tied boots were supposed to look like. I knew the conceptual sequence well enough that I could describe loops, crossings, tension, and knots without difficulty. I also knew what had happened with my shoes yesterday when I tried to make my hands translate that knowledge into a movement they no longer knew. Looking at the laces now did not make my fingers feel any more confident.
I bent slightly anyway, because apparently pride remained willing to conduct experiments the rest of me already knew would fail. Adrian stepped closer, glanced once at my face, and seemed to understand the hesitation without making me explain it. Before I could decide whether stubbornness constituted a viable footwear strategy, he crouched in front of me.
“What are you doing?”
“Tying your boot.”
“I can tie my own boots.”
He took one lace in each hand and formed the first knot with effortless speed. “Excellent. I will consider this unnecessary practice.”
“That is incredibly patronizing.”
“So was walking downstairs with both boots untied.”
I opened my mouth, found nothing sufficiently lethal, and closed it again while he finished the first knot and moved to the second. A prince kneeling at my feet in the middle of a quiet hallway should have looked absurd, especially one large enough that even crouched he occupied an unreasonable amount of space.
Instead, the sight did something warm and complicated to my stomach.
That reaction earned the moment precisely one heartbeat of horrified attention before Adrian looked up at me. His dark eyes found mine from where he remained crouched, and the knowing little curve of his mouth made it immediately obvious that he had noticed my silence, if not the reason for it.
“Try not to kick me. I am helping.”
“I have considered worse things than kicking you.”
“I am touched.”
“You should not be.”
“I am beginning to think you flirt exclusively through threats.”
Heat climbed straight into my face, which was an unforgivable betrayal by my own circulatory system. “I am not flirting with you.”
“Of course not.”
He finished the second boot, checked both knots with a small tug, and rose before I could decide whether kicking him after the fact still counted as ingratitude. His full height returned all at once, leaving me staring considerably farther upward than dignity preferred while he remained entirely too pleased with himself.
“You could have told me they were untied.”
“I could have.”
“Instead you knelt down in the hallway.”
“You seemed sleepy.”
“I am not five.”
“I did not say you were.”
“You implied it.”
“I tied two knots, Rae.”
The shortened name should not have changed anything, but the way he said it sent another flicker of warmth through me before irritation could stamp it out. I folded my arms and glared up at him, which only deepened the smile I was beginning to resent on principle.
A maid appeared at the far end of the corridor carrying folded linens and slowed when she saw us standing together. Her expression brightened almost immediately, and the curtsy that followed made it perfectly obvious what story the household had already decided to tell itself about the visiting prince and princess.
“Good morning, Your Highnesses. I hope you both slept comfortably.”
“Very comfortably,” Adrian said.
I turned my head toward him. His expression remained perfectly innocent, which only made the answer worse because the maid smiled as though we had just confirmed something romantic rather than independently survived adjoining bedrooms with multiple locked doors between us.
“Breakfast is ready whenever you wish to come down.”
“Thank you,” I said, because there were apparently limits to how publicly I could threaten my fiancé before household staff started questioning whether the proposed marriage remained viable.
The maid continued down the corridor, and I waited until she was safely out of hearing before turning back toward Adrian. He already looked pleased with himself, which saved me the trouble of wondering whether he understood exactly what she had assumed.
“Very comfortably?”
“I did sleep comfortably.”
“You knew what she was going to think.”
“I answered the question she asked.”
“That is exactly the kind of argument I use.”
“I know.”
The answer caught me for half a second because he said it with the same easy certainty he had used at dinner when he told me he paid attention. Adrian merely offered me his arm afterward as though nothing about the exchange had been dangerous, while faint movement downstairs suggested the household was already preparing for our departure.
I looked at the offered arm and then at him. Accepting it would look exactly the way every servant in the villa expected it to look. Refusing an ordinary courtesy from the man everyone believed I might marry would probably attract even more attention, which meant the entire social situation had been engineered against me by people who were not even present.
“If I take that, you are going to become unbearable.”
“I have been informed I already am.”
“At least you listen.”
“I pay attention.”
The words landed too close to last night’s dinner, and I hated that I remembered him saying almost the same thing when I asked how he knew what I liked. I hated even more that refusing his arm now would feel less like independence and more like admitting the words had gotten under my skin.
I placed my hand lightly against his arm. “This means nothing.”
“Naturally.”
“Stop sounding pleased.”
“I have not claimed an emotional state.”
I stared at him until his grin widened, and recognition arrived quickly enough to make the joke worse. “Did I use that correctly?”
“You are never allowed to talk to my System.”
“I will endure the loss.”
We started downstairs together while I tried very hard not to notice how easily my hand rested against his arm. The attempt lasted until he leaned slightly closer and asked whether I intended to make it through breakfast without declaring war on the sun, at which point irritation became much easier to manage.
Breakfast improved my opinion of morning only slightly, mostly because coffee existed in Calder and someone had placed a cup within reach before I was required to speak to anyone important. I wrapped both hands around it while Adrian sat across from me looking offensively alert, and Renee ate with the calm efficiency of a woman who had already accomplished more before sunrise than I intended to accomplish before noon.
The staff moved around us quietly, refilling plates and checking whether we needed anything for the road. Every time one of them addressed Adrian and me together as though we were already a matched royal set, something from last night tightened beneath my ribs. I concentrated on breakfast instead and pretended there was nothing strange about eating beside a man everyone expected I might marry after crying myself to sleep over two entirely different people I loved.
Adrian seemed to notice the change in my mood without commenting on it. He kept the conversation safely on the road ahead, asking Renee about the next town and confirming how long she expected us to remain mounted before stopping. That gave me the useful option of listening while contributing only occasional complaints about the hour.
“We should reach the next town before dark if the road remains clear,” Renee said. “That assumes we leave on time and do not spend half the morning negotiating with your luggage.”
“My luggage has already proven strategically valuable. The System rewarded me for it.”
Renee lowered her cup and looked at me with immediate suspicion. “That sentence concerns me more than it reassures me.”
“It should not. I am now more efficient.”
Adrian looked between us, visibly suppressing a smile while Renee’s expression suggested she had already decided she did not want the explanation. Whatever question he was considering apparently became more tempting the longer neither of us volunteered anything.
“Should I ask?”
“No,” Renee and I said together.
That made him laugh anyway. I drank more coffee and refused to reward him with further information, then opened the Party interface simply because it offered something useful to look at that was not Adrian’s face. The familiar roster appeared, and I moved almost immediately to Animals & Transport.
The first change caught my attention before I had even decided what I wanted to check.
Yesterday the massive dark bay had been listed simply as Adrian’s Mount. This morning clean gold lettering had replaced the impersonal designation with an actual name.
ANIMALS & TRANSPORT
Skydancer
Personal Mount: RadianceCondition: Excellent
Goliath
Assigned Mount: Prince AdrianCondition: Excellent
Unnamed Chestnut Mare
Assigned Mount: ReneeCondition: Excellent
Unnamed Mule
Expedition Draft AnimalCondition: Excellent
I stopped with the coffee halfway to my mouth and read the second entry again. The name suited the enormous warhorse so perfectly that pleasure rose before I had any chance to decide whether Adrian deserved the satisfaction of seeing it.
“Goliath.”
Adrian glanced toward me. “Yes?”
“You named him.”
“I did.”
The smile escaped before I could stop it. This one was not court polish or deliberate charm. I was genuinely pleased that somewhere between my complaining about his horse being named Horse and breakfast this morning, Adrian had decided I was right and actually done something about it.
His attention lingered on my face long enough that I realized he had noticed the difference. Instead of ruining the moment with something unbearably charming, he merely smiled back, softer than the smug expression I had been dealing with since waking.
“Goliath suits him,” I said. “Much better than Horse.”
“I was hoping to receive royal approval.”
“You have received provisional approval. Do not become arrogant.”
“That warning may have come too late.”
I looked back toward the interface before he could make anything more of my smile. The third entry remained offensively generic, although Renee had received the chestnut mare only yesterday and possessed substantially more justification than Adrian for not immediately naming her.
“Did you name your mare?”
Renee looked up from her breakfast. “Raven.”
I glanced back at the interface, where Unnamed Chestnut Mare stubbornly remained unchanged. Apparently saying a name aloud did not automatically convince the System that reality had been updated.
“It still says unnamed.”
“What still says unnamed?”
“My Party menu.”
Renee gave me the patient look she used whenever the System became part of a conversation she could not participate in. “Radiance, I cannot see your Party menu.”
“I know. I was checking whether naming her aloud would make it update.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps you have to tell your invisible menu.”
“That sounds ridiculous.”
“You are arguing with something nobody else can see while drinking coffee in a palace-owned vacation house.”
“This is a family residence, not a vacation house.”
“That distinction has saved your dignity.”
I focused on Raven’s entry and searched for whatever controls the System would permit. A contextual menu appeared after a moment, but nothing suggested Renee could interact with it herself. When I deliberately supplied the name she had chosen, a brief notice identified the source as Attached Personnel confirmation rather than Party Leader renaming, which pleased me more than it probably should have.
“Raven,” I said while focusing on the field. “Renee’s assigned mount is named Raven.”
The entry flickered once.
Raven
Assigned Mount: ReneeCondition: Excellent
“There. Fixed.”
Renee looked at me over the rim of her cup. “I am relieved the universe has accepted my horse’s name.”
“It was important.”
“Of course it was.”
My attention dropped to the final entry, and satisfaction immediately turned into a fresh sense of injustice. The mule had carried our supplies faithfully yesterday, tolerated an unreasonable percentage of my personal belongings without complaint, and remained listed as Unnamed Mule as though that were an acceptable condition for a member of Princess Radiance’s Royal Retinue.
This time the name field responded when I focused on it, presumably because the mule belonged to the expedition rather than to Renee personally. An edit option appeared beneath the entry, which meant the problem had become both mine and immediately solvable.
“This is unacceptable.”
Adrian glanced toward the interface he could not see. “What happened?”
“The mule does not have a name.”
Renee closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. “We are leaving shortly.”
“This will take seconds.”
“The mule does not care.”
“You cannot know that.”
“I am willing to risk it.”
I considered the sturdy animal from yesterday, patient beneath the burden of our expedition supplies and far too much of my luggage while plodding behind three considerably more glamorous horses. Something about his broad, determined little presence suggested exactly one name.
“Rocky.”
The System accepted it immediately.
Rocky
Expedition Draft AnimalCondition: ExcellentHappiness: 81
I leaned closer to the interface. “His happiness went up.”
Renee stared at me. “The mule told you that?”
“The System did.”
“Because he slept, ate, drank, and was groomed.”
“Or because he has a name now.”
Adrian nodded with exaggerated solemnity. “I support the princess on this one.”
Renee turned her stare toward him. “You have become part of the problem.”
“He named his horse.”
“I noticed.”
“Goliath.”
“Yes, Radiance.”
“And your horse is Raven.”
“I remain aware of my own horse’s name.”
“And the mule is Rocky.”
Renee set her cup down with exaggerated care and looked at me for several long seconds. The corner of her mouth betrayed her before she could maintain the full severity of the expression.
“I am beginning to regret waking you.”
I smiled into my coffee, which made it increasingly difficult to maintain any serious objection to morning.
We finished breakfast without further System-related emergencies, although I checked the Animals & Transport page twice more before closing it. Seeing Skydancer, Goliath, Raven, and Rocky listed together under Princess Radiance’s Royal Retinue produced a deeply satisfying sense of order, and I had no intention of apologizing for that particular pleasure.
By the time we stepped outside, the sky had brightened into the pale gold of actual morning rather than the malicious predawn haze Renee had dragged me into. The air remained cool enough that I appreciated my traveling coat, while servants moved briskly across the grounds carrying supplies toward the cart and checking equipment for the road. Rocky had already been hitched and appeared perfectly content with his newly recognized identity, although I resisted the temptation to reopen the interface and announce his happiness score to Renee again.
Skydancer stood nearest the stable doors, her silver-gray coat catching the early light as she lifted her head toward me. Her ears came forward immediately, and whatever irritation remained from being conscious at this hour softened enough that I crossed toward her without waiting for anyone else.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
She leaned into me and pushed her nose against my shoulder with enough enthusiasm to move me half a step. I laughed and scratched beneath her jaw, taking uncomplicated comfort in an animal who did not care about inaccessible girlfriends, missing lovers, royal engagements, or whether I had spent half the night crying into an expensive pillow.
“You slept better than I did.”
Her breath warmed my hand while she nosed at me again. Only after I had spent several moments fussing over her did I notice the blanket and sidesaddle sitting neatly over a nearby rail instead of on my horse. Raven was in essentially the same state, while Goliath stood farther along with most of his tack already in place.
I looked toward the stable doors, expecting someone to emerge and correct the situation. A young stable hand hurried past carrying a crate toward the far side of the yard, another disappeared around a corner with part of Rocky’s equipment, and neither behaved as though the Crown Princess’s unsaddled horse represented an imminent catastrophe.
Renee came up beside me and followed my gaze. “They are behind.”
“I noticed.”
“A couple of the hands were called to the lower pasture before breakfast. Something unexpected, apparently.”
“That seems badly timed.”
“It does.”
I looked from Skydancer to the sidesaddle and considered waiting. We had spent the entire morning being told departure time mattered, though, and I had endured dawn specifically to avoid becoming the person everyone blamed for making us late.
I knew how Skydancer should feel beneath me once she was prepared. I recognized the saddle, the bridle, the blanket, and enough about their finished arrangement to notice if something looked obviously wrong. Riding 6 sat comfortably inside me and had already proven itself yesterday.
None of that told me what order the pile of leather straps on the rail wanted to be attached in.
I picked up part of the tack anyway and stared at it with the confidence of someone hoping confidence might become contagious. It did not. Recognizing equipment was apparently very different from knowing how to transform it into a safely saddled horse, and my Earth knowledge mostly contributed the extremely useful insight that doing this incorrectly could hurt either Skydancer or me.
I turned one strap over in my hands and tried to identify where the process should begin. Skydancer watched patiently, her ears shifting toward the equipment in a way that felt judgmental despite being entirely innocent.
“Do not look at me like that.”
“She is wondering what you intend to do with that.”
Adrian’s voice came from close enough behind me that I nearly jumped. I turned and found him approaching with his gloves tucked into one hand. His gaze traveled from the tack in my hands to Skydancer and then back to my face, lingering just long enough for me to know he had understood the situation.
“I know what I am doing.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Do you?”
“I know how to ride.”
“I have seen you ride.”
“I am excellent.”
“You are.”
The absence of sarcasm made defending myself considerably harder. Adrian stopped beside the rail and looked over the waiting equipment without reaching for any of it.
“Riding her and preparing her to be ridden are different skills,” he said. “There is nothing unusual about knowing one and not the other.”
“I was going to figure it out.”
“I believe you.”
“That sounded suspiciously reasonable.”
“I can be unreasonable if it would make you more comfortable.”
“It might.”
His mouth curved. Rather than taking the tack away and solving the problem himself, he picked up the saddle blanket and held it toward me.
“Would you like me to show you?”
I looked from the blanket to him, searching for some trace of amusement at the Crown Princess who could ride beautifully but apparently could not saddle her own horse. There was none. He simply waited.
“You are not just going to do it?”
“I could.”
“That would be faster.”
“It would.”
I waited for the inevitable continuation while Skydancer shifted beside us.
“But tomorrow you still would not know how.”
That landed directly in the part of me already irritated by how many ordinary tasks other people had performed for me since yesterday. Dressing, packing, fastening, tying, preparing. Royal life had apparently been constructed around making sure I never needed to learn half the practical skills required to keep myself functioning.
Letting Adrian saddle Skydancer would solve the next ten minutes.
It would do absolutely nothing for tomorrow.
I handed the mystery strap back to the rail. “Fine. Show me.”
His expression changed only slightly, but there was unmistakable satisfaction in it. He did not take the blanket from me or move into position to demonstrate while I watched.
“Come here.”
“I am already here.”
“Closer.”
“That sounded suspicious.”
“It is a saddle blanket, Rae. I promise its intentions are honorable.”
I moved beside him anyway, mostly because Skydancer was watching and I refused to retreat from basic stable equipment in front of my own horse. Adrian gave me the better position at her side, then nodded toward her.
“First, check her before you put anything on her. You know her better than I do, so start there.”
That was not what I expected. I set the blanket back on the rail and ran one hand along Skydancer’s neck and shoulder while she leaned subtly into my palm.
“What am I checking for?”
“Soreness first. Heat, swelling, anything that makes her react when she normally would not.”
His hand settled lightly over mine and guided my palm lower along Skydancer’s shoulder. The contact was practical, barely enough pressure to redirect me, and still managed to divide my attention in half.
“There. Use the flat of your hand. You will notice a difference more easily.”
I forced my focus onto the horse. Her coat was warm beneath my palm, muscles even and relaxed, with nothing that suggested swelling or tenderness. Adrian moved my hand another few inches and then released it.
“She feels normal.”
“She looks normal too, but feeling matters. Now check where the tack will sit.”
I followed his instructions while he explained what I was looking for, and the process became less mysterious almost immediately. When I reached too tentatively beneath the fall of Skydancer’s mane, Adrian stepped closer behind my shoulder and guided my wrist again.
“Firm enough to feel what is under the coat. You are not going to hurt her.”
“I know that.”
“You are petting her.”
“She likes being petted.”
“She does, but she also needs to be checked.”
His hand withdrew, but the warmth lingered irritatingly against my skin. Skydancer turned her head and nudged me hard enough to bump my arm, and I scratched beneath her jaw automatically.
“See? She agrees with me.”
“She wants attention.”
“She has excellent instincts.”
“You are both impossible.”
Adrian waited until I finished fussing over her without hurrying me. He had known almost immediately that I did not know what I was doing, but he had not laughed, taken over, or treated the gap in my knowledge like evidence that I was incompetent. He simply handed me the blanket again and stepped back enough to give me room.
“Now put this where you think it goes.”
I stared at him. “You are the teacher.”
“And you have seen it on her before.”
“That does not mean I know where it starts.”
“It means you know more than you think you do.”
I hated the sentence mostly because it made me want to prove him right.
I positioned the blanket across Skydancer’s back. It looked wrong almost immediately, sitting farther forward than I remembered, but Adrian let me inspect it rather than correcting me.
“What do you think?”
I compared it against yesterday’s memory. “It needs to come back.”
“A little.”
I adjusted it.
“Too far.”
“You said back.”
“I said a little.”
“That was a little.”
“You moved it six inches.”
“That is a little.”
“Not on a horse.”
I glared at him while shifting it forward again, and he smiled without rescuing me from my own mistake. When the blanket finally sat correctly, he nodded and reached for the sidesaddle.
“This part is heavier than it looks. Take the front.”
“I can lift a saddle.”
“I know.”
“Then stop preparing to help me.”
“I am preparing to keep you from dropping several hundred crowns worth of custom tack onto your foot.”
“That is completely different.”
“Of course.”
We lifted it together, although Adrian made me control most of the placement. His hand settled briefly at my waist when I stepped too close to Skydancer’s side, guiding me half a pace backward before releasing me immediately. The touch lasted less than a second. My body remained aware of it considerably longer.
I focused very hard on the saddle.
Adrian showed me how to lower it without disturbing the blanket and then made me check the position from both sides before either of us touched the straps.
“Why does everything have three more straps than it appears to need?”
“Because falling off your horse is generally discouraged.”
“I do not fall off horses.”
“You say that with alarming confidence.”
“I am an excellent rider.”
“You have mentioned.”
“And yet you continue speaking as though gravity applies to me.”
“I will speak with gravity about making an exception.”
“That would be appropriate.”
His laugh came close to my ear because he had stepped behind me again to show me the next fastening. One hand covered mine while the other indicated where the leather should lie.
“Feel that?”
“The strap?”
“The tension.”
I tested it between my fingers. “It feels tight.”
“Too tight or correctly tight?”
“I have no idea.”
“That is why I asked you to feel it.”
His fingers shifted over mine, pressing them into the space beneath the strap until I understood what he meant. The movement was gentle and entirely practical, although knowing that did very little about how aware I was of him standing close behind me.
“This is correct,” he said. “Secure, not restrictive. She still needs to breathe comfortably and move.”
I tested the tension again after he released my hand, then adjusted the next fastening myself. Adrian watched without touching anything.
“You tell me.”
“I hate this teaching method.”
“You will remember it.”
I checked the strap against the sensation he had shown me and finally committed. “That one.”
“It is right.”
The satisfaction was immediate and embarrassingly strong. Ten minutes earlier I had not known how to begin. Now I understood one small piece well enough to judge my own work, and unlike riding or court etiquette, nobody had placed this knowledge inside me before I arrived.
We continued around Skydancer while Adrian explained the rest. Each step came slightly easier than the last. I still needed him to correct one strap and stop me from twisting another, but he made me fix both mistakes myself instead of reaching around and doing it for me.
Eventually frustration won. I held a buckle toward him. “You do this one.”
“No.”
“I am the Crown Princess.”
“You are.”
“That usually works.”
“I am sure it does.”
“Then take it.”
“You know how to do it.”
“I have done it once.”
“You did it correctly once.”
“That does not make me an expert.”
“It makes you capable of doing it twice.”
I stared at him while the buckle remained suspended between us. Adrian did not move to take it, and the quiet confidence in his expression irritated me in exactly the way encouragement did when someone had correctly identified something I was capable of doing.
I turned back to Skydancer and fastened it myself.
The leather slid into place more cleanly this time. I checked the tension, compared it to what he had shown me, and ran my fingers across it once more simply to make sure I understood rather than merely hoped.
A soft chime sounded at the edge of my awareness.
Adrian noticed me go still immediately. “What?”
“The System.”
His eyebrows rose. “Did I break something?”
“That depends.”
I opened the notification.
NEW SKILL ACQUIRED
Stablecraft — Mastery 1
You have acquired basic practical knowledge related to preparing, handling, and maintaining riding animals and their equipment.
Demonstrated Competencies
Basic mount inspectionBasic tack inspectionHorse preparationSaddling with assistanceBasic fit and safety checks
Further practical experience required for advancement.
I read the list twice. The satisfaction of acquiring an actual new skill lasted approximately three seconds before my attention locked onto one phrase.
“Saddling with assistance?”
Adrian looked between me and the empty air in front of my face. “I assume that is bad.”
“I did most of it.”
CORRECT
“Then why does it say with assistance?”
BECAUSE YOU RECEIVED ASSISTANCE
“I received instruction.”
INSTRUCTION QUALIFIES AS ASSISTANCE
“You are an asshole.”
Adrian’s mouth twitched as he leaned lightly against the rail. “Am I the asshole, or is the invisible thing the asshole?”
“The universe.”
“That seems ambitious even for you.”
I dismissed the notification and discovered I was smiling despite myself. Stablecraft sat there at Mastery 1, tiny compared with Riding but undeniably mine because I had just learned it. More importantly, Skydancer stood properly saddled in front of me because I had participated in every part of preparing her.
Tomorrow I could at least begin without staring at the tack as though someone had emptied a toolbox onto my horse.
“Thank you.”
Adrian’s teasing expression softened, and for once he accepted the gratitude without trying to make me regret offering it. “You are welcome.”
“I still object to ‘with assistance.’”
“I am sure the System will reconsider after you file a formal complaint.”
“I might.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Renee approached from Raven’s side while fastening one glove. The look she gave Skydancer told me she had been paying more attention to our lesson than I realized, and her gaze moved from the correctly placed sidesaddle to Adrian, then to me.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“I was thinking.”
“We discussed this.”
Her mouth curved as she stepped closer and checked one strap, then another, with the casual familiarity of someone who actually knew what she was looking at.
“Did you saddle her?”
“Yes.”
“With help,” Adrian supplied.
I turned toward him. “Traitor.”
“You thanked me less than a minute ago.”
“I have reconsidered.”
Renee finished inspecting the tack and straightened. “It looks good.”
The compliment produced another burst of satisfaction that I tried, unsuccessfully, to pretend did not matter. “I learned Stablecraft.”
“Good.”
“Mastery one.”
“That is generally where learning begins.”
“The System says I required assistance.”
“You did.”
I stared at both of them while they remained united against me without the slightest remorse. “I am surrounded by enemies.”
Adrian stepped backward toward Goliath. “At least your enemies make sure your boots are tied and your horse is properly saddled.”
“That does not improve your position.”
“It improves yours considerably.”
His eyes flicked toward my boots before meeting mine again, and the grin that followed sent heat into my face. I turned toward Skydancer and scratched beneath her jaw before either of them could comment on that too.
A stable hand finally hurried toward us from the far side of the yard with an apology already forming. He slowed when he saw Skydancer fully prepared and looked briefly confused before bowing.
“My apologies, Your Highness. We were called to the lower pasture unexpectedly, and I thought someone else had been assigned to your mare.”
“No harm done.”
The answer surprised me a little. Yesterday I might have been considerably less charitable about being left beside an unsaddled horse, but the inconvenience had produced a skill I had not possessed an hour ago.
The stable hand hurried away to help with Raven, leaving Adrian beside Goliath while he checked the warhorse’s tack. Watching him work was different now because I recognized pieces of what he was doing. Motions that had looked effortless and vaguely mysterious yesterday now contained choices I could identify.
Unfortunately, knowing enough to recognize competence only made him more impressive.
Adrian caught me watching.
“Checking my work?”
“I know Stablecraft now.”
“Mastery one has made you bold.”
“I was bold before.”
“I had noticed.”
I turned back toward Skydancer before he could see how much I enjoyed the answer. She bumped her nose against my shoulder again, and I scratched beneath her jaw while quietly checking the saddle one more time simply because I could.
By the time Renee finished with Raven, the stable yard finally looked like a departure instead of a collection of unfinished tasks. Rocky waited patiently in front of the cart, Goliath shifted beneath Adrian’s hand, and servants brought the final small bags from the residence while checking that nothing had been forgotten.
When Adrian returned to help me mount, I looked at his offered hand and considered objecting purely for consistency. Sidesaddle mounting required assistance by custom and practicality, though, and after spending the morning learning the difference between independence and refusing useful help out of stubbornness, I had difficulty constructing a convincing argument.
“You are enjoying this.”
“Helping you mount?”
“Being useful.”
“I find it rewarding.”
“That sounds suspiciously noble.”
“I have many flaws. You will discover them.”
“I am counting on it.”
His hands settled securely at my waist when I stepped into position. Knowing exactly what was coming did nothing to prevent the brief awareness of his strength when he lifted me easily enough that my feet left the ground, or the equally irritating awareness that being handled that way felt entirely natural in this body.
I settled into the sidesaddle and adjusted my skirts while Adrian kept one hand nearby until he was certain I was balanced.
“There. Your work survived.”
“My work was excellent.”
“With assistance.”
“I will run you over.”
“Skydancer likes me.”
I looked down at my mare. “Do not betray me after everything I did for you this morning.”
Skydancer flicked one ear toward my voice and otherwise ignored me, which Adrian found far too entertaining as he crossed toward Goliath.
Renee mounted Raven and brought her alongside me while servants opened the gate leading back toward the road. Her eyes flicked once toward Adrian, then toward me, and the knowing curve at the corner of her mouth appeared quickly enough that I nearly missed it.
“Whatever you are thinking, stop.”
“I am thinking we should leave.”
“That is not all you are thinking.”
“You cannot prove that.”
“I do not need to. I am the Crown Princess. I require no proof.”
“You have been spending too much time with your fiancé.”
The word hit harder after last night than Renee could possibly have known, and my smile disappeared before I could prevent it. She noticed immediately. Whatever teasing she had been preparing faded from her expression.
I looked toward Adrian, who was occupied with one of Goliath’s straps, and lowered my voice. “He is not necessarily going to remain my fiancé.”
Renee nodded without argument or matchmaking hidden inside the answer. “I know.”
That simple acknowledgment helped more than persuasion could have. Father’s promise remained intact whether Adrian made himself irritatingly difficult to dislike or not. I stroked Skydancer’s neck and concentrated on the familiar warmth beneath my hand until the knot in my chest loosened again.
Adrian finished with Goliath and brought the massive bay alongside us. Seeing him immediately reminded me of the new name in my Party window, and despite the emotional mess of the previous few seconds, another small smile found its way onto my face.
“Goliath really is a good name.”
Adrian looked genuinely pleased. “I am glad you approve.”
“You should be. My standards are extremely high.”
“I have noticed that too.”
The gates stood open ahead of us while Rocky and the cart waited behind Raven. I gathered Skydancer’s reins, settled properly into the sidesaddle I now understood slightly better than I had an hour ago, and nudged her forward.
Adrian brought Goliath alongside me as we passed through the gates. Renee and Raven followed, Rocky rolling patiently behind them with the cart, and the Royal Villa gradually slipped away at our backs while the road opened ahead beneath the brightening morning.
Skydancer settled into the easy rhythm I already knew. This time, at least, I also knew a little more about everything that had gone into getting her there.