CHAPTER 29: RIDING THE WIND

Eva’s POV

​By the second day of my mandated rest, the walls of my small room felt like they were closing in on me. Idle hands were dangerous in my line of work, and doing nothing only allowed the heavy, suffocating memories of my father to fester.

​Seeking air, I slipped out toward the estate stables.

​I had always been curious about the horses, but my duties as a housemaid had never brought me past the stone courtyard. The air inside the stable was rich with sweet hay and cedar shavings. I walked slowly down the aisle, stopping before a massive, sleek black stallion. Reaching into a wooden trough, I offered him a small handful of oats, smiling softly as his warm breath puffed against my palm.

​"Shouldn't you be resting?"

​I jumped, pulling my hand back as a deep, familiar voice echoed from the sunlit doorway.

​Lucian stepped into the aisle, unbuttoning his riding gloves. His dark eyes swept over me, taking in my color—which had thankfully returned—before he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wooden stall.

​"I... I got bored sitting in my room, My Lord," I admitted quietly.

​Lucian let out a low, breathless hum. "And you decided feeding my stallion was more interesting?"

​"Well, it is an activity," I replied, forcing a small, polite smile.

​He walked closer, his heavy boots tapping against the cobblestone floor until he was standing a few feet away. His sharp face softened, the usual arrogant coldness giving way to something far more guarded—almost hesitant.

​"How are you feeling?" he asked.

​"I am very well, thank you."

​Lucian looked down at his gloves, quiet for a long second, before meeting my gaze again. "I am sorry if I triggered... whatever happened to you in the drawing room."

​I blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "You... what?"

​"I am apologizing," he said stiffly, a faint trace of embarrassment touching the line of his jaw. "I realize I was harsh in my study. Threatening your position here may have distressed you more than I intended."

​A small, amused spark flashed in my chest. "It is no worries, My Lord. It gave me a week of doing absolutely nothing."

​A rare, genuine laugh broke from Lucian’s lips—a sound so warm and unexpected it sent a quiet shudder through the quiet stable.

​"Well then," Lucian said, stepping toward the black stallion's tack. "As my official apology, I will allow you to ride midnight around the lower gardens until you are tired."

​My eyes widened. "Oh, please, no, My Lord! There is truly no need for that."

​"Nonsense," he countered, swinging the polished leather saddle onto the stallion's back with practiced ease. "Consider it a gift."

​"I... I cannot ride, Lord Lucian," I confessed, my voice dropping.

​Lucian paused, looking over the horse’s back at me with a raised eyebrow. "You cannot ride?"

​"No."

​He studied me for a second, a subtle, confident smirk settling on his face. "Do you want to learn?"

​"Of course," I said, the answer slipping out before I could stop the childish excitement in my tone.

​Lucian offered his hands, guiding me up onto the high saddle. I gripped the leather reins tightly, my heart thumping against my ribs as the ground suddenly felt very far away. Before I could catch my breath, Lucian put his boot in the stirrup and swung himself up directly behind me.

​I stiffened. "You are going to ride the same horse?"

​"I am right here with you," he murmured, his voice resting right against the shell of my ear. "Unless you would rather take your chances alone?"

​"No," I whispered.

​Lucian leaned forward, his broad chest pressing gently against my back. He reached around my waist, his warm, calloused hands resting directly over mine as he adjusted my grip on the leather reins. The scent of rain, cedar, and leather enveloped me, making my pulse scatter.

​"Hold them firmly, but keep your wrists loose," he instructed softly, nudging the stallion forward with his heels.

​The horse stepped out of the dark stables into the brilliant afternoon sunshine of the lower gardens. At first, we moved at a slow, swaying walk along the gravel path.

​"Can't we go any faster?" I asked, looking back over my shoulder at him.

​Lucian chuckled, his dark eyes sparkling with a competitive, fiery light. "I thought you were scared."

​"I am," I admitted, a breathless laugh escaping me, "but it is fun."

​"Hold on tight then," he warned.

​With a low click of his tongue, Lucian loosened the reins, and the stallion broke into a smooth, powerful canter.

​The wind whipped through my hair, rushing past my ears as the green gardens blurred into a streak of gold and emerald. The sheer speed was intoxicating. I threw my head back, laughing aloud into the open air, completely forgetting my fear, my revenge, and my identity.

​Behind me, Lucian’s arms held me steady and secure, his chest rumbling with a quiet, triumphant laugh of his own as we rode together into the sun.

Laura’s POV

​I carried the heavy silver tray up the grand staircase, my knuckles white against the handles.

​My assigned task for the afternoon was to serve tea to Lady Genevieve in the guest wing. I hated every second of it, but what I hated even more was the girl who should have been carrying this tray alongside me.

​Eva.

​While the rest of us broke our backs scrubbing floors and polishing cutlery, she was living like royalty, granted a full week of luxury rest just because she had a little fainting spell in the drawing room. It was infuriating.

​I pushed open the doors to Genevieve’s lavish chamber, stepping quietly across the thick carpet. Genevieve was sitting before her vanity, aggressively brushing her dark hair, her reflection twisted into a bitter scowl.

​"I brought your tea, My Lady," I murmured, setting the porcelain saucer down on the side table near the open balcony window.

​As I straightened up, a burst of bright, clear laughter floated up from the gardens below.

​I paused, glancing out the window. My jaw tightened, a surge of pure disgust knotting in my stomach.

​There, out on the sprawling lawn under the afternoon sun, was Eva. She was sitting atop Lord Lucian’s prized black stallion, throwing her head back in unfiltered delight. And pressed directly behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist as they rode, was Lord Lucian himself.

​He was smiling. The man who barely humored the high nobility was practically glowing as he held a common maid against his chest.

​Unbelievable. The girl faked a blackout for attention, and now she was shameless enough to parade around on the same horse as the future Duke.

​"Lady Genevieve," I said smoothly, stepping back from the table. "Would you please come here? I want to show you something in the garden."

​Genevieve paused, throwing her brush down onto the vanity with a harsh clack. She stood up, her velvet gown rustling as she tiptoed over to the window.

​She leaned out slightly—and instantly gasped.

​"Is that..." Genevieve’s voice cracked, her pale skin draining of all color. "Is that Lucian? On a horse... with the maid?"

​"Yes, My Lady," I whispered, stoking the fire. "It is."

​"What?" Genevieve breathed, clutching the silk curtains so tightly her knuckles turned ghostly white. "How is this possible? He barely spends five minutes in the same room with me! He won't even give our betrothal a chance, yet he can ride a horse with a servant?"

​"Believe me, My Lady," I said, leaning in closer, "no one is more tired of that girl than I am."

​Genevieve’s eyes flared with a sharp, vengeful fury as she watched Lucian laugh at something Eva said. "I must do something about this. I need to get her kicked out of this house immediately! I will speak to Lady Eleanor."

​"My Lady, I do not think Lady Eleanor will kick her out," I interrupted quickly. "Lady Eleanor made Eva her personal maid over a countess's daughter. She adores her. If you want Eva gone, you cannot just complain."

​Genevieve turned her head slowly, fixing me with a calculating, sharp gaze. "What are you suggesting?"

​"We have to frame her," I said, a slow, dark smile creeping onto my face. "We have to make the entire family hate her."

​A slow, wicked grin spread across Genevieve’s lips, replacing her hurt with cold, deliberate malice.

​"I like you," Genevieve purred, her eyes narrowing as she looked back out at the couple in the garden. "Speak more."

​I smiled to myself, a thrill of deep satisfaction washing over me. Everyone in this cursed house had suddenly become hypnotized by Eva, treating a nobody like she was made of glass. But now, I finally had an ally—and together, we were going to tear Eva down to the dust where she belonged.