The palace stables were bustling with activity. The air alive with the chatter of nobles and the occasional impatient whinny of a horse. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm, golden light that made the polished saddles gleam and the freshly brushed coats of the horses shimmer. There was an air of excitement among the gathered riders, though Isla couldn't tell if it was genuine enthusiasm or just people trying to outshine one another in their finely tailored riding attire.
Isla stood near the edge of the group, quietly observing the scene. Her riding habit—dark green with subtle gold embroidery—had been chosen by Martha, who'd insisted it brought out her eyes and made her look "approachable, but not too approachable." Isla wasn't sure what that meant, but she trusted Martha enough to not argue. Nearby, Clara waved at her, her face lit with a smile as bright as the morning sun.
"Lady Evangeline! " Clara called out, hurrying over and linking their arms. "You look stunning today! And doesn't the weather just feel like it was made for us?"
"I suppose it does," Isla replied, glancing up at the clear blue sky. Not even a single cloud dared to disrupt the picturesque scene. "It's almost suspiciously perfect."
Clara giggled. "Don't be silly! Days like these are a gift. And speaking of gifts, have you seen Lady Rosaline? She looks absolutely angelic this morning."
Ah, yes. Rosaline. Isla didn't need to look to know what Clara meant. Rosaline always looked angelic—like her face had been carefully crafted to invoke poetry and sonnets wherever she went. Sure enough, when Isla glanced over, there was Rosaline with her immaculate posture and soft smile, her pink riding habit flowing gently as she adjusted the reins of her delicate white mare.
And standing next to her, as always was Prince Louis.
Prince Louis looked precisely as regal as one might expect, his tailored coat and polished boots practically screaming, *Look at me, I'm the protagonist.* He was speaking softly to Rosaline, his expression unusually warm and Isla felt a pang of something she refused to name. It wasn't jealousy, of course. It was just…. mild irritation. Yes, that was all. Mild irritation at how they seemed to exist in a bubble of perfect romance, the rest of the world merely background noise.
"Lady Evangeline," the prince said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter as he turned to her. "You've joined us after all. I trust you're well this morning?"
Isla straightened under his gaze, forcing a polite smile. "Quite well, Your Highness. Thank you for inviting me."
The prince nodded, his expression unreadable. "I trust you'll enjoy the ride. It promises to be a pleasant morning."
Isla wasn't entirely sure if that was a warning or an actual pleasantry, but before she could analyze it further, Clara tugged on her arm. "Come, let's find our horses! I can't wait to see how you ride."
---
The ride began with a procession along the wooded trails that bordered the palace grounds. The path was shaded by tall trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, and the scent of wildflowers mingled with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil. Isla's horse, a sleek black stallion with a temperament that could only be described as "mildly annoyed," carried her with an elegance that felt entirely at odds with how awkward she felt in the saddle.
Clara rode beside her, chatting away about the latest gossip. "Did you hear about Lady Maribel? She's been trying to catch Lord Harcourt's eye for weeks now, but apparently he's more interested in pastries than romance. Isn't that hysterical?"
"Scandalous" Isla replied dryly, though she couldn't help but smile at Clara's infectious energy. It was hard to imagine how anyone could dislike her.
The group paused briefly near a stream, where the sunlight danced on the water like scattered diamonds. Isla dismounted carefully, her legs stiff but functional, and let her horse wander toward the grass for a bite to eat. Clara, as always, was quick to drag her into a conversation with the other young nobles.
"Lady Evangeline," one of them said with a polite smile. "Are you looking forward to the summer festival?"
"I suppose so," Isla replied, keeping her tone neutral. She'd heard endless chatter about the festival, from the masquerade ball to the rumored performances, but she couldn't say she was eager for any of it. Large gatherings always seemed like the perfect place for things to go horribly wrong.
"Oh, you must be excited for the masquerade," Clara interjected, her eyes sparkling. "It's always the highlight of the season! The gowns, the music, the intrigue—it's simply magical."
"Magical," Isla echoed, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't entirely sure she trusted anything described as "magical" in a world that seemed determined to cast her as the villainess.
As the conversation continued, Isla felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder and, sure enough, there was Duke Adrian Blackthorn, leaning casually against a tree and watching her with the same unsettling intensity as always. His dark riding coat blended almost too well with the shadows, and his sharp features gave him the appearance of someone who wasn't quite part of the lively scene around him.
"Is he always like that?" Isla whispered to Clara, nodding subtly in Adrian's direction. "Just… lurking?"
Clara glanced back and giggled. "Oh, don't mind him. The duke always looks like he's plotting something, but I'm sure he's perfectly nice once you get to know him."
Isla doubted that very much. Adrian's gaze met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though he could see straight through her. She quickly turned back to the group, pretending to listen as someone began recounting a particularly dramatic story about a misplaced heirloom, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Adrian was dangerous. Not in the obvious, swordwielding sense, but in the way he observed people, dissecting them with his eyes. Isla had no doubt he was aware of every move she made, every word she spoke. And the worst part was, he seemed to find it amusing.
---
The group resumed their ride, the horses moving at a leisurely pace as they followed the winding trails back toward the palace. The warm sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and the distant hum of conversation filled the air. Isla stayed close to Clara, answering her chatter with occasional nods and quips, but her mind kept drifting.
This world was beautiful—there was no denying that. The landscapes, the people, even the way the sunlight seemed to shine just a little brighter than it ever had back home. But beneath the beauty was a web of intrigue and expectations, and Isla couldn't afford to forget it.
As the palace came into view, Clara turned to Isla with a bright smile. "Wasn't that delightful? I do hope you'll join us again for the next outing."
"Delightful," Isla said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Absolutely."
Clara laughed, oblivious to the edge in Isla's tone. "Oh, Lady Evangeline, you're such a delight."
Isla smiled, though she wasn't sure if it was genuine or just muscle memory at this point. Either way, she had survived another day in this world. And for now, that was enough.