Chapter 206 Amelia Is Something Else
Amelia's words had hung in the air like a blade, sharp and impossible to ignore.
Who had said something like that, declaring with a steady gaze and voice that they were a genius? That anything which might have seemed irrational for others had become perfectly reasonable in their hands?
If she had posted that on social media, the comments section would have turned into a battlefield. People would have lined up to call her arrogant, self-absorbed, a show-off. The accusations would have poured in like rain.
But here, in this moment, with her history laid bare, it was the truth.
Because if she was not a genius, how else could anyone explain the way she had mastered the piano? Even starting young, who could reach a level of flawless performance and composition at seventeen, producing music that could stand beside the work of seasoned professionals?
If she was not a genius, how could she possess a natural, lethal strength combined with speed that left opponents reeling, and the kind of refined combat technique that wins world-class boxing titles? And then there were her skills in traditional medicine and other fields... the list was long.
Most people in this world are ordinary. Even Lon knew that. But he also knew genius exists.
Born with staggering intellect and rare talent, they climbed to the top of multiple disciplines before most people even found their footing. They achieved things that others could not even imagine.
If Amelia was not lying, if she truly was what she claimed to be, then everything about her life made sense. Even Rosie's affection for her seemed logical. Who would not be drawn to a mind like that?
Lon understood Rosie's isolation better than anyone. In the time he had tracked her, he had seen the truth -- Rosie was always alone. No friends. No companions.
Maybe it was because she knew the gap between herself and others. Maybe she wanted to avoid burdening anyone. Or maybe she simply preferred the freedom of leaving without attachments. Whatever the reason, solitude clung to her like a second skin.
So if she had crossed paths with someone like Amelia -- brilliant, formidable, unafraid -- it was not hard to imagine Rosie being pulled in.
A shift passed between them, subtle but undeniable. The man who had been admiring her with every glance now found himself straightening, his posture less guarded.
"Of course there is no problem," Lon said, his tone even, his smile polite. "I just think you are remarkable, that is all. I asked a few extra questions -- hope you do not mind."
He gestured ahead, his voice turning casual, almost light. "We are here. The stables. Let's find you a suitable horse."
The rest of the class had already chosen their mounts under the guidance of the assistants and were outside on the training track. Inside, the stable was quiet, the few remaining horses standing in their stalls, ears flicking at the occasional sound from outside.
Lon led her to a tall chestnut horse, its coat gleaming under the shafts of sunlight streaming through the open doors. He ran a hand over its smooth flank, his touch calm and assured.
"Since this is your first equestrian lesson," he began, "we will start with how to make contact."
He spoke without hurry, his voice carrying the kind of authority that comes from knowing a subject inside out. "A horse's eyesight is not great -- it sees the world in blurred shapes. What it relies on more are its nose and ears. Its hearing is sharp enough to catch sounds from far away, so you do not start by touching its ears. You approach from the front side, let it see you, then touch its cheek. Give it a chance to catch your scent, to know you are safe."
He smiled faintly. "Like this..."
The sunlight caught the line of his jaw, the curve of his glasses. Outside, the air was filled with the distant rhythm of hoofbeats and voices, but here, Lon's focus was entirely on the animal in front of him. He stroked the horse's cheek with deliberate gentleness, the picture of a patient instructor.
For a fleeting second, Amelia almost believed it. If she had not known who Lon really was, she might have been just like this horse, lowering her guard without realizing it.
"All right," Lon said, turning to her with a mild smile. "Your turn."
She had claimed this was her first riding lesson. That was not true. In her previous life in Novaria, equestrianism had been one of her passions. Novaria's riding certification, known as HBBK, was divided into five levels. Those who held the fifth-level certificate were at the pinnacle of the profession, the kind of riders who could teach at the highest standards. Fewer than a hundred in the entire country had earned it.
One glance at the insignia on Lon's collar told her he was one of them.
So was she.
Amelia had never worked as an instructor, but she had earned her fifth-level certificate purely out of interest. Her riding skills surpassed those of the two assistants present today, and compared to students like Kelly and Grace, she was in another league entirely.
Pretending to know when you do not is easy to spot. But pretending not to know when you do- that takes discipline.
She copied Lon's movements, her touch light on the chestnut's cheek, every gesture mimicking the curiosity of a beginner.
Lon watched her closely, noting each motion.
Once she had familiarized herself with the horse, he bent to tighten the girth strap, lowered the stirrup, adjusted the height.
The horse was a tall imported warmblood, its shoulder higher than Amelia's forehead. There was no way she could mount it alone.
"I will help you."
Before she could respond, Lon crouched, one knee bent, hands open in invitation for her to place her foot in his palm.
There was something almost old-world in the way he did it -focused, polite, the gleam of his gold-rimmed glasses catching the light. If he had done this for any other girl, she might have blushed, maybe even let out a quiet laugh. But Amelia was immune to men who were not Michael.
He was her instructor. If he wanted to help her mount, she saw no reason to refuse.
She set her black riding boot firmly into his palm. With a smooth push, she swung herself up onto the saddle. Her legs clamped instinctively around the horse's sides as it shifted under her, hands closing around the reins, posture straight.
"All set. Thank you."
She did not notice the flicker of movement as Lon, in the act of steadying her, fastened a small golden charm to the horse's front hoof.
"You are welcome," he replied easily, straightening. His smile was unchanged. "Now that you are mounted, I will lead you outside."