Chapter 76: A ride

Her chaperones led the way. They passed through a side gallery Lucrezia had not noticed before, its windows narrower, its walls less adorned.

The air shifted as they descended a short flight of stone steps and emerged into the rear grounds of the palace, a place half hidden from the grand courtyards and public gardens.

The space opened into what could only be referred to as magnificent. It was quieter than the places she’d been, enclosed by low stone walls veined with creeping ivy. Beyond it stretched a small training field brushed with pale winter grass, and further still, a thin forest line that swayed like a dark fringe against the horizon.

Lucrezia immediately spotted Vespera. She noticed what she had not before. Unlike the flowing silks and intricate gowns worn within the palace halls, Vespera was dressed in fitted riding leathers the color of deep plum, reinforced at the seams with subtle silver stitching.

A dark cloak was fastened at her shoulders, not ornamental but practical, lined with fur at the collar. Her boots were worn, complementing her outfit entirely.

She was beside a horse that stood at the center of the yard, brushing its mane with care as though it were the most important thing in the world.

It was white, but not the dull white of dust or age, but a luminous, almost pearled shade that caught the light. Its mane fell like silk over a long, elegant neck with a composed, steady posture.

Her chest loosened a bit. Her eyes darted to another animal that stood slightly apart. It was black, not merely dark but consuming as its coat held no sheen of brown or gray beneath the sun.

It was the kind of black that seemed to drink in light rather than reflect it. Its build was broader, its stance firmer, as though the earth beneath its hooves belonged to it. Something about it seemed familiar, only to shatter like glass on her feet when Vespera’s voice called out.

“Anastasia! Over here!”

She waved in a come-hither motion, and Lucrezia smiled at her warmth.

She walked towards her. Her boots crunched against ice and earth, breath misting in the air as she neared them. Indeed, the air was harsher, more aggressive than she imagined.

She fought the urge to draw her coat closer. Anything to not show her vulnerability. She needed fresh air. And there was no getting it anywhere around the palace where every step felt like a trap.

“I hope you don’t mind me referring to you by your name,”

Lucrezia shook her head. “No, not at all. I find formality rather draining. I don’t fancy it either. Please, call me whatever you wish,”

She smiled, resting her palm against its neck. “This is Purity. She’s the kindest and friendliest of all the other horses,”

The name fit too easily. Purity dipped its head slightly at the sound of its name, breathing a slow, patient air into the space between them.

“She’s calm,” Lucrezia murmured.

“She is deliberate,” Vespera corrected gently. “She does not startle unless given reason to. She’s quite a definition of ’Do Not Judge A Book By Its Cover’,”

Its ears swivelled in welcome while its flank twitched for more. A gentle huffing sound came from velvet nostrils —a sigh of contentment.

The woman’s expression softened further. “Sometimes, I think I must be out of my mind, standing here and talking to animals as though they understand the burdens of court.” She added quietly, and let out a small breath that was almost a laugh. “But they are the only ones who listen without interruption, strategy, judgment,” She listed and stroked Purity’s mane absently. “They keep my sanity entertained,”

The confession lingered between them and Lucrezia felt something fragile inside her loosen. “Such a beautiful name,” She admitted.

“Right? I thought it was absurd to name her such. Who would think to name an animal Purity?” she questioned no one in particular. “But she has never been just an animal to me,”

There was an unmistakable sense of emptiness in the air. Lucrezia could never imagined a god to feel the sense of loneliness for a fleeting moment.

Mortality looked up to them because they were superior. They had everything one could ever wish or dream of. Out of everything in the world, that was the least she expected.

Lucrezia cleared her throat softly. “I used to name things,” she admitted before she could reconsider, breaking the silence abruptly.

At her words, Vespera looked at her with gentle curiosity.

“A moth once, and an ant next,” She said. “It kept returning to my window no matter how often I shooed it away,” She recalled the little creature always bugging her at the Red Keep. The memory brought a smile to her lips. “I called it… Sir Fluffington.”

The name sounded absurd in the open air, and she felt heat creep into her cheeks.

“And the ants?” the woman prompted, clearly entertained.

Lucrezia exhaled softly, failing to conceal the embarrassment in her voice. “Bartholomew the Third,”

The woman blinked once, clearly dumbfounded. “Why the Third?”

“I assumed there had been others before him,” Lucrezia said earnestly. “He did not seem impressed by me,”

Expecting a weird reaction, Lucrezia was stunned when it drew an actual quiet, but genuine laugh, echoing around the yard. Vespera chuckled, obviously entertained by her honesty.

It was free and utterly careless, and her embarrassment suddenly paved the way to shame, as she joined her, snorting a laugh.

They both paused at first, their face flushed as a result of the effort, before resuming. The laughter did not fade easily.

It lingered in the cold air, unguardedly, dissolving into pale mist with every breath they released. For a moment, there were no courts, no trials, nor gods watching from marble halls. Only two women standing between winter grass and quiet sky, flushed from something so simple as shared absurdity.

Lucrezia had not realized how long it had been since she had laughed without caution. The sound startled her more than it should have.

They slowed gradually, the laughter tapering into breathless smiles. Vespera pressed her fingers to her lips as though attempting to compose herself, though the amusement still glimmered in her eyes.

“You see?” She said lightly. “Animals are not the only ones who preserve sanity,”

Lucrezia’s smile softened, but it did not disappear entirely. “I had forgotten what it felt like…”

There was no need to clarify what she meant, and her gaze shifted then toward the black stallion who had remained apart from them the entire time.

The winter light traced the hard lines of his frame, emphasizing the strength in his shoulders, the quiet tension in the arch of his neck. He stood as though the yard belonged to him, not out of arrogance, but certainty.

Lucrezia felt the quiet recognition beneath her ribs. Where has she seen it before?

“Can you ride?”

Her eyes darted towards Vespera who stared at her openly and she shook shook her head in response.

“No,” She replied honestly. “I never had reason to learn,” She wasn’t that acquainted with carriages either.

“Aren’t mortals allowed to learn how to ride horses?” She asked in curiosity.

Lucrezia took a few steps forward until she stood beside her, saying, “Not any mortals. Females,”

Vespera reacted with an ’oh’, nodding after. “That’s sad,” Then she smiled, “It’s a good thing I’ll be the first to teach you.”

Lucrezia blinked. “You?” That would explain her outfit, she thought. It was almost unimaginable, judging someone with that delicate build able to ride horses.

“Did you expect one of my brothers?” Vespera asked dryly. “They would turn it into a contest of endurance,”

That, strangely, did not sound like exaggeration. The word brothers struck her, and Lucrezia was suddenly reminded of Vaeron.

Her heart skipped. “How… is he?” She asked all of a sudden, and she felt the woman’s shoulder stiffen slightly.

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