Page 26 of The Golden Rose Of Valenul

“Someone could dance every day of their life,” she said, her pulse racing at the back and forth, “and maintain mediocrity. It is the person who loves dancing every day who will become proficient.”

“So you admit practice is necessary.”

Ariadne huffed and pursed her lips at his refusal to back down. “Practice does you no good in riding if you are too tense or uptight. The horse will know and respond accordingly.”

She looked to Emillie for help, and her sister shrugged. “Perhaps a race to determine the better rider? Passion versus practice.”

Where a cool and calculating glint had been, a spark lit in Azriel’s eyes. He had come to life over the course of their conversation. The mention of a competition piqued his interest even more.

The heat in Ariadne’s veins spurred her on as well. With Camilla putting wind back in her sails and Azriel lighting the fire of rivalry, she, too, felt more alive than she had for a long time. In those moments, a weight lifted from her shoulders, and she breathed easy. The world felt right.

“Well then, Mister Tenebra,” she said, adjusting her seat and gripping the reins, “I am ready when you are.”

A genuine smile cracked across Azriel’s sullen face. The sudden shift highlighted the best of his features, including a set of dimples she had not noticed before. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Perhaps your sister would do us the honor of counting down.” Even his voice sounded different—lighter, smoother, and less pained.

Emillie grinned. “I will count back from five, then say go. Whoever reaches home first wins.”

Adrenaline dumped into Ariadne’s blood. The last time she felt the rush of it, she had been running barefoot through the Keonis mountains on Madan’s heels. Then, it had been from fear. Now, excitement danced through her gut.

“Five…”

They came to a halt side-by-side. Her heart felt ready to leap from her chest.

“Four…”

Azriel’s leg bumped hers as he shifted in the saddle. She glanced up at him, and he winked at her.

“Three…”

Ariadne gaped, then swallowed hard and shook her head to clear it, and looked ahead again. Blood pounded in her ears.

“Two…”

She squeezed her knees, ready for Astra’s sudden lurch forward when she gave the signal. The mare twitched beneath her, ready to spring at the slightest touch.

“Ah! I am glad I found you three!”

Sucking in a sharp gasp, Ariadne turned to find her father making his way up the highway. She deflated at the sight of him. There would be no race today.

Her father rode his stallion, a large bay by the name of Titan, closer. She had not realized they were so close to Laeton already.

“Is everything alright?” Her father looked between them all and inclined his head to Azriel. “Mister Tenebra?”

Gone was the mirth; Azriel’s face had returned to its stony neutrality. The guard’s mask. He placed a fist over his heart and bent at the waist. “My Lord. All is well. We paused to admire the sky in this rare break of the forest.”

Indeed, the stars were beautiful. Ariadne tilted her head back to study the inky heavens where a dark shadow–a low-flying bird, perhaps–swept overhead and plastered a warm smile into place for her father. Her hands shook nonetheless from unused adrenaline now fading from her system. “You return home already?”

“The Council could not meet as we had hoped,” he said. “Lord Caldwell’s condition is worse than we were aware, and he cannot travel at this time.”

“What is his condition?” Emillie asked as they all nudged their horses forward.

Their father sighed. “Lord Governor Caldwell is quite old, my dear. First generation.”

Emillie hummed through pursed lips. “I thought he was an Original.”

“His wife, Lady Caldwell,” her father explained, “is an Original. She has fared better than he, it would seem.”

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