Aliz and Yrenna had worked through the night to alter the riding outfit. Now, here she was, at the stables. The logical part of her mind, the strategist from last night’s study, understood the sequence. They were now allies. This riding lesson seemeda logical extension of that alliance—a practical skill for her autonomy.
Yet, beneath that, an older, more bruised instinct persisted. After the distance, after the unflattering words spoken behind closed doors, her body still braced for his indifference. This stark, patient follow-through was disarming. It belonged to the man who caught a rabbit and listened in the study, not the one who had turned to ice at the altar.
It felt . . .dangerousto let hope float. Still, a tentative flame warmed her chest—a need to see if this version of him could be real.
Alexander took her to a stall near the entrance where a grey mare stood, her coat dappled like frost on cobblestones. She lifted her head, ears flicking forward, calm as a creature at rest.
He stroked the mare’s neck. “This is Brisa,” he said, his voice quieter here among the horses. “She’s steady, not easily startled. A good place to start.”
JingYi smiled at the horse. “More chaise than horse, Conrad called her.”
A sound, very much like laughter, came from him. “He’s not wrong.”
“Will I be riding alone?”
“I’ll be at your flank the whole way.” He tilted his head toward the back of the stable where Tedric stood, brushing his horse. “And Tedric will ride behind us. You won’t be without guard.”
JingYi’s gaze shifted to the mare again, whose eyes were dark and placid, reflecting the lantern-flame without judgement. She reached out a hand and let Brisa nuzzle her palm.
“I’m counting on you, then,” she whispered, already fond of the horse.
As if sensing her hesitation, Tedric’s voice carried lightly from behind. “His lordship rides like a shadow, but I can play netshould you tumble, Highness. Between us, you’re safer than any queen in her throne.”
She smiled at him. “That is reassuring. Thank you, Tedric.”
Alexander walked Brisa out of her stall. “Come. Best to start. I know you are worried about Daan.”
He led the horse alongside a sturdy mounting block, and reached down to adjust the stirrup, shortening it several notches. Then he offered his hand to help her up onto the block.
“Left foot here,” he said, steadying the left stirrup. She slid her boot in, her right leg already tensing for the awkward lift.
Before she could brace for the painful swing, his hands came to her waist—firm, sure. “Don’t swing. Just step up with your left and let me guide you over.”
She pushed up with her uninjured leg, and he lifted, turning her body with a controlled strength that bypassed the need for her right leg to bear weight or flex sharply. In one smooth motion, she was seated.
“There,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he checked the length. “Comfortable?”
She nodded, a flush of gratitude warming her cheeks. He didn’t call attention to her limitations. He’d simply shaped the lesson around her body, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Leather creaked. Brisa shifted under her, warm and alive, nothing at all like the promised chaise. Heart thudding in her ears, JingYi focused on the mare’s slow breath until other details surfaced. The smell of horses. Oiled leather. And beneath it all, something distinctly Alpha threading through the damp morning air, making the fine hairs on her arms rise.
Alexander stayed close beside her. His voice was low as he looked up at her. “Hold the reins lightly. Too tight and she’ll fight you. Too loose, and she’ll wander where she pleases.”
He placed one hand at her waist to steady her. His thumb brushed over the hollow just above her hip, and her breath caught. Swiftly, heat flushed across her neck.
She was achingly aware of him this morning.
The substitute suppressant inside the pouch at her waist—mixed from the herbs in the castle garden in place of her precise recipe—was nowhere as potent. Her control felt thin, her senses raw. A low, persistent warmth coiled deep within her, answering a rhythm her mind was trying desperately to ignore.
“Balance is in trust,” Alexander said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to travel straight through her bones.
She looked down at him, trying to school her face. His gaze held hers. His nostrils flared, almost imperceptibly—and a cold thread of panic wound through her. Had he caught it? The subtle, sweetening edge of her scent cutting through the herbs?
But he said nothing. Did nothing.
Except that he looked at her a moment too long, eyes darkening, before he turned and mounted Duskwane in one fluid, powerful motion that never failed to make her belly go soft. The stallion tossed its head but responded instantly to his hand. He barely had to pull anything to be obeyed.
“I’ll stay here,” he said as he drew alongside her. “Close enough to reach you, should you need me.”