Trust is a virtue

The sky was grey when I returned to the stables.

Rain was threatening to fall, hovering above the mansion like a storm waiting for my permission. It was the kind of weather I liked, dull, heavy, quiet. Just the sound of hooves shifting in straw, the wet snort of a stallion, and my boots echoing on stone.

I needed peace. After yesterday’s visit from the underground, I needed silence.

I carried the feed bucket myself as i always did when I was restless. There was something honest in caring for the animals, no lies, no betrayal, no pretending. Just muscle, instinct, and survival.

But I paused at the entrance of the stable.

Emilie was there.

She stood with her back to me, her fingers brushing the sleek muzzle of a black mare Storm. The horse was calm, nudging into her palm with soft affection. Emilie had removed her shawl, letting the breeze catch her curls. Her dress clung to her waist, modest but flattering. She looked too delicate for this place. Too soft.

But softness could be a disguise.

“You’re not allowed to be here alone,” I said flatly, stepping into the stall.

She flinched slightly and turned to face me, startled. “I didn’t think…..I mean, I wasn’t trying to cause trouble,” she said, voice light. “I just wanted to see more of the place. I didn't think the horses would mind.”

“They don’t,” I replied, dropping the bucket near the gate. “But I do.”

Emilie’s gaze held me for a second longer than I liked. I hated how calm she looked. She had no idea the kind of men I dealt with, the blood I cleaned off my hands before sitting down to dinner. Yet here she was, petting my horse like she belonged.

“I didn’t know you kept horses,” she said, clearly trying to ease the silence.

“I keep a lot of things.”

“And you feed them yourself?”

“I trust myself more than I trust others.”

Another pause. She tilted her head, trying to study me like I was a puzzle. “Is that why you don’t talk to me?”

I moved past her, brushing her shoulder, intentional or not, I couldn’t tell. My pulse ticked once, hard. I ignored it.

“I talk when there’s something worth saying,” I muttered, grabbing a brush from the shelf and starting to groom Storm. My hands moved with practiced ease, short strokes down the mare’s flank.

Emilie was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Do you always push people away?”

My jaw tightened. “Do you always ask questions you don’t want the answers to?”

She didn't back away. “Maybe I do want them.”

I let out a breath through my nose. The stable smelled like hay and dust. The air between us grew heavier with every second she lingered.

“You married me, Milo,” she continued, her voice steadier now. “Even if it was for debt. Even if it was a transaction, I’m still here. And I don’t know how to survive in this place if I have to tiptoe around you all the time.”

I stopped brushing.

The silence cracked.

I turned to face her fully.

She was so close now, too close. And yet, the space between us felt like a wall. I didn’t move. Neither did she.

“You want to survive?” I asked, my voice cold as stone. “Then learn this. No one in this house owes you kindness. Not Irina. Not Andrew. Not even me.”

She flinched, just slightly.

I leaned in, enough that she could feel my breath. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because I allow it. The only reason you sleep in silk sheets and not a ditch is because I made that decision. You married me to save your father. That’s all. Don’t pretend it means anything more.”

Her eyes were glossy, but she didn’t break.

“I’m not pretending,” she said quietly. “I’m trying.”

My chest twisted, uninvited.

Damn her.

She was the kind of soft that made men weak. The kind of softness that crept into your blood, made you forget what you’d lost.

I stepped back before I could do something I’d regret. My fists clenched at my sides.

" I just wanted to help with feeding them,” she offered, her voice faltering slightly under the weight of my gaze. “It’s better than staying locked in a bedroom.”

I studied her for a moment, then tossed the empty bucket aside with a dull thud.

“You do whatever you want,” i said, and started brushing down Storm’s side again.

Emilie didn’t back away. She stepped closer, slowly reaching toward one of the horses, a gray mare with intelligent eyes. The animal leaned into her touch, which surprised me. The mare usually hated strangers.

“She likes you,” he said curtly, though his tone lacked warmth.

“Animals are easier to talk to,” Emilie whispered, almost to herself.

I didn’t comment.

She let her fingers trail gently down the mare’s neck. The silence between us grew thick, like fog, and she glanced at mr again.

“Milo,” she said, voice cautious, “do you always feed them yourself?”

I stiffened slightly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just didn’t expect a man like you to do something like this.”

My eyes snapped to hers.

“A man like me?” he echoed. “What exactly does that mean?”

Emilie held his gaze, even though her heart raced.

“I mean someone… powerful. Dangerous. Feared. You don’t seem like the type who has time for things like this.”

I stepped closer, my presence suddenly overpowering.

“You think feeding a horse makes me soft?” i asked, my voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

“No,” she replied, her chin tilting slightly. “I think it makes you human.”

That caught me off guard. Just for a second. Something flickered in my eyes….wounded, fleeting, and it was gone in a breath.

I turned away before she could see more.

“Don’t mistake a moment of calm for kindness, Emilie,” i said flatly. “These horses know better than to bite the hand that feeds them. You should learn the same.”

Her expression dimmed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she ran her hand gently along the mare’s jaw, whispering soft words i couldn’t hear.

I finished brushing Storm and walked toward the exit, brus

hing past her.

“Stay as long as you want. But don’t follow me,” i said as I walked out.

I didn’t wait for her reply.