Chapter 210 You Played Yourself (3)
Kelly cleared the five vertical rails with effortless precision, even the tallest at four feet three inches, landing each jump with the kind of polish that comes from countless rehearsals.
The applause and cheers surged through the arena like a breaking wave. Kelly's smile stretched wide, spreading across her face. She had walked into this match already certain of her superiority, but now she wore her disdain openly, a gleam of triumph in her eyes.
Amelia, however, seemed untouched by the sting of Kelly's words. She adjusted the reins with a subtle shift of her fingers, then leaned forward, her touch brushing lightly over the horse's mane. The chestnut mare flicked its head at the contact, then pressed its muzzle into Amelia's palm with a quiet, trusting warmth.
"Ready?" Lon's voice was steady, cutting cleanly through the noise.
Amelia gave a single nod, her hands firm on the reins, her back straight, calves pressing against the horse's sides. The crowd watched from a distance, their eyes narrowing to catch every detail. Even through the shadow cast by her helmet, the line of her nose and the sharp definition of her cheekbones were visible.
Sunlight poured down in a soft gold, wrapping her in a halo that made her look composed, unhurried, and entirely in control. There was an elegance about her that made it hard to imagine she came from anywhere poor or forgotten.
In that moment, she looked more like the daughter of a distinguished family than someone from a remote corner of the world.
The whistle blew.
The air tightened instantly, as if the arena itself was holding its breath. Students leaned forward, half expecting to see her tumble from the saddle, the kind of disaster that would be talked about for weeks.
Everyone was shocked by what happened instead.
Her hands held steady on the reins, her pace neither rushed nor hesitant, driving straight toward the first rail. Just before the jump, the mare's neck stretched, head lifting slightly. At takeoff, the neck tucked in, forelegs folding upward. The hind legs pushed off, hocks extending, the power in its stride launching both horse and rider into the air.
Amelia's upper body moved in perfect sync, leaning forward to balance the mare's arc. Her spine stayed straight but loose, eyes locked ahead. Her legs hugged the horse's sides naturally, her hands following the rhythm of its neck without a tremor.
They cleared the first rail with ease, landing smoothly before pressing on.
The same thing happened with the second, third, and fourth trails.
And then at the fifth, which was the tallest, her form did not falter. From approach to takeoff, from the moment in midair to the landing stride, every motion was perfect. It was not a frantic bid to win; it was a demonstration, as if she were teaching the class exactly how it should be done.
The run took less than thirty seconds.
By the time she returned to the starting line, the crowd had only just begun to recover from the shock.
God...
It was hard to believe she was riding for the first time. There was no trace of a beginner's stiffness or panic—her movements were smoother than those of students who had been training for two years.
Someone whispered that this was her first equestrian class. That she had learned to jump only minutes ago, from Lon's demonstration.
What kind of ability did she have to have learned at that pace? How strong was she, really?
Kelly's earlier performance had been good—high-level, even—but Amelia's run shifted the focus entirely. Kelly had trained since she was seven, earned her HBBK Level Three, and competed at River City. Her success here was expected.
But Amelia had just learned and still matched her stride for stride, with grace and composure that made the feat almost cruel in its comparison.
Kelly had never imagined Amelia would clear all five rails. And she certainly had not imagined that learning on the spot would mean truly mastering it in minutes. The blow cut deeper than if Amelia had merely been hiding her skill.
Amelia said nothing when she stopped, only let her gaze meet Kelly's—calm, unhurried, but heavy enough to make Kelly's chest tighten. Her face shifted from pale to flushed in seconds.
Lon's eyes stayed on Amelia, his jaw tightening slightly. He had known she would succeed, but he had wanted to see how. If she had used some unnatural force to control the horse, the run would have been meaningless. But he had watched closely. Every jump had been earned through skill alone—skills he had just shown her. She had replicated each one with impossible accuracy.
That was her talent. Her learning speed.
"Well done," Lon said to Amelia first, then to Kelly, his tone still warm. "Kelly, your performance was excellent too. You both completed the full course without a single fault."
"So, there is no loser here. You both win. Let's end the match."
"No loser? Seriously?" Kelly's teeth ground together. She had set this up to humiliate Amelia, to dim her spotlight. And now... now Amelia had walked away with more attention than ever, her run even more impressive than Kelly's in the eyes of the crowd.
No, it can't end this way. If it did, she had just handed Amelia the stage.
"No!" The word snapped out before she could stop it. "We agreed this match had stakes. If there is no winner, what is the point? Amelia, you wanted the Moonfern, did you not?"
Amelia's gaze lifted to meet hers, voice cool. "What are you suggesting?"
Kelly paused, calculation flickering in her eyes. "If the low zone cannot decide it, then we move to the medium zone. Mr. Ramos taught you the spread jump earlier, even showed you himself. If you learned that fast, let's raise the difficulty level until we have a winner."