"You've rode horses before, my dear Gala?" The prince asked, his voice louder than his normal tone, as he was ahead of her by about ten steps. For the first time, the prince looked like an actual prince—sitting on top of his black, muscular, thoroughbred horse, Paige, whose hair was as black as ebony and as sleek as silk. When the prince turned sideways, she caught sight of his dark, thick brows that were furrowed while looking at the horizon. His black, curly hair was dripping wet with his own sweat.
"I do, my Lord. My parents were actually farmers, and we bred horses in our backyard. During the summer, my family would have our own race. I always win that competition, by the way." She beamed proudly at the prince. She could not help but feel nostalgic, recalling bits of her memory of her home; she traced the pure, white hair of the horse that Dundeas gave her. She named her after her white pony back home, Paimone.
