After several days under the care of the royal doctor, my body finally remembered itself.

  Balance came naturally now. Weight, rhythm, breath.

  I could stand... I could walk.

  More than that, I could understand them.

  The words no longer passed me by as noise.

  As usual, my meal was placed before me.

  Raw vegetables, sliced fruits mixed together like a crude salad.

  Clean water followed, chilled and clear.

  From the beginning, this had always been my water.

  The prince’s horse did not drink from common troughs.

  A stablehand fastened the lead rope gently around my neck.

  “Clear skies today,” he said. “His Highness wants you refreshed.”

  Outside, the rope was removed.

  I lifted my head and looked up.

  Blue, endless, clearly sky.

  The air tasted different beyond the stable—

  Lighter, cleaner. Inside had been thick with straw and sweat and my own scent.

  I inhaled deeply, letting the wind pass through my lungs.

  Then I ran.

  Enough to feel alive again.

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  Back and forth across the field, hooves pressing certainty into the earth.

  That was when I saw him.

  Sir Roland was walking along the fence.

  He was not alone.

  I slowed and approached, stopping at the wooden rail.

  I stretched my neck forward, resting my chin near his arm.

  He smiled and stroked my mane without hesitation.

  His hand... warm, yet familiar.

  But the moment my eyes shifted—

  Something was wrong.

  The man beside him stood still.

  Calm in a way that did not belong here.

  His gaze was sharp, unmoving, as if he were measuring me rather than seeing me.

  My instincts screamed.

  I tried to warn Roland.

  I tried to tell him.

  What came out was a harsh, angry neigh.

  Sir Roland frowned. “Angela.”

  I stamped once, circling, lowering my head.

  Everything I could do to say danger.

  “Easy,” he said, misunderstanding completely. “Do you want wet hay again?”

  I froze.

  That threat worked better than any command. I quieted, letting him stroke me again.

  Then he spoke.

  “This is Lucien Vallmore. He’ll be your personal trainer while Sir Antonie completes his sentence.”

  Lucien inclined his head.

  Polite and controlled.

  His eyes met mine.

  Cold.

  Not cruel. Not hostile.

  Worse—

  I had seen many trainers through borrowed memories and recent days.

  None had looked at me like this.

  Sir Antonie’s eyes had held concern.

  Calculation, yes.

  But always care.

  Lucien’s gaze felt like a hand reaching inside my chest.

  He stepped forward, holding out an apple to me.

  “An offering and official introduction,” he said calmly.

  The scent hit me before he was close.

  Sweet... but wrong.

  Beneath it, something thin and biting lingered.

  Not food.

  Not like natural apple in common.

  I recoiled instantly, backing away, hooves scraping.

  I shook my head hard and neighed again, louder this time.

  Sir Roland blinked in surprise. “What’s gotten into you?”

  I circled, agitated, turning my head away from the apple and toward him, then back again—

  Trying to show him.

  "Don’t eat it. Don’t touch it."

  Lucien paused.

  Then smiled faintly. “I see, she’s still sensitive after the incident,” he said smoothly. “Understandable.”

  Sir Roland hesitated. “Everyone knows what happened to me and Angela. You know that too, don’t you, Mr. Lucien? She nearly died protecting me.”

  Lucien withdrew the apple without argument. “Of course. I’ll be more careful in the future, Your Highness.”

  Too easy.

  They turned and walked away together.

  I stood there, watching their backs, my breathing uneven.

  I couldn’t speak.

  I couldn’t explain.

  All I could do was remember the smell—and the way Lucien Vallmore had looked at me as if I were already something dead.