Chapter 11 The Morning Ride
LEITANA
“My lady, it’s morning.”
The voice came soft and distant at first. I blinked, the room swimming into focus. Pale sunlight spilled through the tall curtains, painting gold on the white walls.
Four young women stood around me, their uniforms crisp and neat, their voices polite and quick. One had a tray, another carried a folded gown, the others hovered near the bed, all smiles and quiet glances.
I rubbed my eyes. “W…what?”
“My lady,” one of them repeated, her English clean and smooth. “Master has gone out for his morning ride. He asked that we prepare you for the day.”
“Ride?” I frowned, still groggy. “He go on horse?”
They exchanged small smiles. “Yes, my lady. He rides every morning. You’ll see him when he returns.”
I sat up slowly, clutching the duvet to my chest. My mind still foggy, I tried to remember how I even got here. I only recalled standing in that big marble room, trying to stop the water that kept coming out of the wall after I had my bath. When it finally stopped, I came out to find clothes, only a soft black nightdress laid neatly across the bed.
No underwear, no corset, nothing. It felt strange against my skin, too thin, too loose. But I was too tired to care. So I climbed under the covers and must have fallen asleep.
Now, as the maids pulled the sheets away, I gasped and grabbed them back. “Wait, I can bathe myself!”
They laughed softly. “Please, my lady, it’s our duty. We’ll be gentle.”
“No, I…”
But it was useless. They were already drawing the bath, moving like dancers, their hands skilled and quiet. I let them, cheeks burning as they helped me wash, their chatter filling the silence.
When they finished, they laid out dresses for me to choose from, silks, lace, and tight corseted gowns that looked too fine for someone like me. I looked at them, then at the plain cream one on the far end.
“That one,” I said, pointing.
They blinked, surprised. “That one, my lady? It’s… rather simple.”
“Yes, but it’s nice,” I said quickly, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing. “I like it.”
When they helped me into it, I saw the way they looked at me in the mirror, like they hadn’t expected me to look like this.
“Forgive us, my lady,” one said shyly. “You’re not what we imagined the master’s bride would be.”
I smiled a little, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “Me too,” I said softly. “I’m not what I imagine either.”
They laughed lightly, and I felt something warm stir in my chest.
“Should we call for breakfast, My Lady?” one asked politely.
My heart jumped. “Ah no, please, just… just Avery,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. I almost said my real name.
They exchanged uneasy looks. “But the master would not like that, my lady. It’s not proper for servants to call you by your first name.”
I nodded slowly, hiding my trembling hands in my lap. “Okay… then call me Lady Avery.”
The name felt heavy in my mouth. Very wrong, I didn't like it.
As they brushed my long hair, I looked out the tall window. The fields stretched endlessly, the morning air soft and cold. Somewhere far off, I could faintly hear the sound of hooves on wet grass.
And I wondered, with a small ache in my chest
what kind of man rides at dawn after looking into someone’s soul the night before.
I walked carefully down the grand staircase, the hem of my plain cream gown brushing softly against the polished floor. The house was so quiet that even the click of my bare feet against the marble sounded too loud.
The young women followed closely behind me, whispering to one another about breakfast and the master’s return, but my mind was far away. I still couldn’t get over how big everything was, the walls, the windows, the chandeliers hanging like stars frozen in glass. Back home, in the orphanage, even the best room couldn’t fit half this hallway.
When we turned the corner toward the dining room, I suddenly froze.
A sharp, high sound broke through the morning calm, a loud neigh, wild and angry.
I stopped walking. My heart jumped.
Another neigh followed, then the heavy thud of hooves and men shouting somewhere beyond the front doors.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“It must be one of the master's horses, my lady,” one maid said softly. “Sometimes it grows restless after a ride….”
Before she could finish, another harsh cry came, this time closer, and I heard someone yell, “Hold him down!” followed by a sound like a whip striking leather.
Without thinking, I gasped and rushed toward the front doors. “No!”
“My lady!” one of the girls cried after me, but I didn’t stop.
“Scuse, sir!” I said quickly as I pushed past two startled men carrying a tray near the doorway.
Outside, the cold air hit my skin, but I barely noticed.
The courtyard spread before me, wide and stony, bordered by trimmed hedges and fountains. In the middle of it, a great black horse reared, its mane whipping like dark fire. Men were trying to pull its reins, but the animal fought, its eyes wide and wild with fear.
One man shouted and struck it again with a whip.
“Stop it!” I yelled, running forward. “No hit him!”
The men froze, surprised. The horse stomped and snorted, its front hooves pawing the ground.
“My lady, please!” one of my maids called from the steps. “It’s dangerous!”
But I ignored her.
I had never ridden a horse before, not really. In Vanuatu, we didn’t have many where I grew up, only a few at the port where tourists came, and I’d once helped calm one that had broken loose. I still remembered how frightened it had been and how gentle you had to be.
I slowed my steps, holding out my hands slowly, my voice soft and low.
“Shh… easy, boy. No more hurt, eh? You just scared.”
The horse’s ears flicked toward me, breath huffing from its nostrils.
The men looked at each other, unsure. One of them muttered, “My lady, please step back!”
But I didn’t.
I took another slow step, whispering softly again. “You good boy, I know. They no mean it. You just frightened.”
The horse’s muscles quivered, its eyes darting between me and the men, and then, little by little, it lowered its head.
I smiled gently, my heart thudding fast. “See? You calm now.”
One of the stablehands looked stunned. “She, she got him to stop.”
Behind me, I heard hurried footsteps on gravel, deep, firm, and too familiar.
The kind that made everyone suddenly straighten up.
And before I turned, I already knew who it was.
Ravial.
And I could feel his gaze burning into my back
as I stood beside his wild horse, my trembling hand resting on its mane.
“What do you think you’re doing, my little lamb?”?”