The tea turned bitter the longer Aurelia sat there.
Mireya Vale was beautiful — every blink, every flick of her wrist was practiced perfection. Her laugh sparkled like bells, and yet... it rang false. Like someone smiling at a funeral.
"So," Mireya said, stirring her tea with too much grace, "do you ride?"
Aurelia blinked. "Ride?"
"Horses." Mireya set her cup down and smiled sweetly. Too sweet. "We have a private paddock just beyond the garden. I thought it might be fun. Sisterly, even."
Aurelia opened her mouth to decline, but something inside her hesitated.
Fear flickered in her chest — like a shadow she couldn't name. She didn't remember riding horses. Didn't remember being afraid. But her fingers trembled slightly at the thought of heights.
Still, she nodded.
"Sure. I'd like that."
Mireya's smile sharpened — just barely. "Perfect."
The stables were bathed in gold by the setting sun.
Soft whinnies echoed, and grooms moved back and forth, adjusting saddles. Mireya walked confidently toward a sleek white mare with braided hair and diamond-studded reins.
"This one's mine," she said proudly.
Aurelia was led to a darker horse — wild-eyed, nostrils flaring. Its coat was slick with sweat, its hooves twitching restlessly against the dirt.
The stable boy hesitated. "This one's not—"
"She'll take it," Mireya interrupted smoothly. "Wouldn't want her to feel left out."
Aurelia swallowed. The saddle felt higher than it should. Her heart thudded louder than the horse's hooves. Still, she mounted, because she didn't want to seem weak. Not in front of her friend.
The wind whipped her face as they rode into the open field.
At first, it was manageable. Bumpy. Unsteady. But not terrifying.
Until the horse jerked.
Something snapped — a rein? a nerve? She didn't know.
All she knew was speed.
The horse screamed and bolted.
The world blurred.
Aurelia clung to the reins, her screams lost to the wind. The ground rushed beneath her, wild and deadly. She was falling. Falling again — like before.
Branches whipped her skin. Blood smeared her palms.
And then—Snap.
She hit the earth hard. Pain splintered through her leg, sharp and deep. The sky spun. Her lungs refused to work.
The horse vanished into the trees.
She tried to scream, but only a whimper came out.
Footsteps. Fast. Heavy.
And then — a face.
Not soft. Not kind.
Beautiful in a way that made her breath catch — cruel jaw, dark hair tousled like shadows, golden eyes burning like a predator's.
He knelt beside her.
"You really are reckless," he murmured, brushing dirt from her cheek.
His hands were warm. Strong. Bloodstained.
"Who…?" she rasped.
He didn't answer. Only lifted her like she weighed nothing.
Behind them, Mireya stood frozen on her perfect white horse.
Jealousy thundered louder than hooves in her chest.
End of Chapter 6