Not everyone clung to tradition, and some were eager to see how the princess would fare against seasoned male riders.
The race marshal stepped forward, holding a bright red flag high.
The horses pawed at the ground, riders tightening their grips, eyes locked ahead.
"On my mark!" The tension thickened.
"Three…" The horses stirred.
"Two…" Abigail leaned forward slightly, fingers gripping her reins.
"One…"
The flag dropped, and with a mighty roar from the crowd—the race began.
Hooves thundered against the earth as the horses surged forward, kicking up dust in their wake.
The competitors leaned low, urging their steeds onward, while the spectators leapt to their feet, shouting encouragement and placing last-minute bets.
And in the midst of it all, Princess Abigail rode like a storm—unyielding, unafraid.
The race had begun.
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