ISLA
The saddle felt like it was made of spikes rather than leather, and I was sure the horse knew I had no idea what I was doing. The beast shifted beneath me, its muscles rippling with an energy I couldn’t control. My fingers gripped the reins so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The guards stood a short distance away, whispering amongst themselves, their amusement barely hidden. My face burned with embarrassment.
She was patient, though. The King—my wife, I reminded myself with a strange mix of disbelief and awe—stood beside me, one gloved hand resting casually on the horse’s flank. She hadn’t laughed, not once, even when I nearly toppled off the saddle moments ago.
“You’re too tense,” she said, her voice as steady as the ground beneath her feet. “The horse feels your fear. She’s not an enemy to conquer, Isla.”
I swallowed hard, nodding but not loosening my grip. “I—I think she hates me,” I stammered, glancing down at the enormous creature beneath me.
The King raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t trust you yet. Like me.”
My heart jolted at her words, and I dared to look at her. The sun caught in her dark hair, making it gleam, and her expression—stern but not unkind—held me captive for a moment too long. I quickly turned my attention back to the reins, fumbling with them awkwardly.
“You’re overthinking,” she said, stepping closer. “Trust yourself first, Isla. The horse will follow.”
I took a shaky breath and nodded, though her words felt easier said than done. “I’m trying,” I muttered.
She gave a low hum, her version of acknowledgment, before reaching up and placing her hand on mine. “Perhaps this will help,” she said, her voice softer now. Before I could protest, she was pulling me down from the saddle, her hands firm but careful as they steadied me.
“Come,” she commanded, mounting the horse in one smooth motion. “Ride with me.”
“But—” I began, glancing nervously at the guards, who were openly staring now, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.
The King didn’t give me time to finish. She reached down, gripping my waist effortlessly, and lifted me onto the horse in front of her. The movement was seamless, as if I weighed nothing at all.
My breath hitched as I found myself pressed against her, her arm circling me to take hold of the reins. The heat of her body seeped through the layers of fabric separating us, and I felt utterly overwhelmed.
“You don’t have to fear touching me,” she murmured near my ear, her voice low and teasing. “You’re my queen now, Isla. And after our first night, I think we’ve established that touching is the least of your worries.”
My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. “The guards,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “They’re watching.”
Her laugh was a soft rumble against my back. “Let them watch. They’ll grow used to seeing us together.”
When I didn’t relax, she sighed, her tone turning commanding. “Guards,” she called, her voice carrying across the field. “Stay behind. We’ll ride alone.”
The guards exchanged uncertain glances but bowed and stepped back. The King didn’t wait for further confirmation. She clicked her tongue, and the horse began to move, carrying us away from the small training field and into the open expanse of the countryside.
The tension in my chest eased as the noise of the castle faded. The air grew cooler, tinged with the scent of wildflowers as we entered a meadow painted in shades of gold, pink, and white. The sight was breathtaking, and for a moment, I forgot my nervousness.
She slowed the horse to a gentle pace, her arm still resting securely around my waist. “What do you think about when you look at this land?” she asked suddenly, her voice thoughtful.
I hesitated, unsure of what she meant. “It’s beautiful,” I said finally, though the word felt inadequate.
“It is,” she agreed. “But beauty alone won’t keep it alive.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I glanced back at her, startled by the seriousness in her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“The kingdom,” she said, her tone quiet but firm. “It’s been ruled by fear for too long. My father’s reign scarred the people. They hate me because they expect me to be him. If I don’t give them a reason to believe otherwise, they’ll tear this place apart.”
I didn’t know what to say. Her vulnerability was so unexpected that it left me speechless.
“You were one of them,” she continued, her grip on the reins tightening slightly. “A servant. A woman who lived among the poor and the forgotten. Tell me, Isla. How would you make them happy?”
The question caught me off guard. I looked down at my hands, thinking of the people I’d known—their struggles, their pain. “They need hope,” I said slowly. “Something to believe in. They need to know they’re not invisible.”
She didn’t respond immediately, but I felt the weight of her gaze on me. Her arm tightened slightly around my waist, pulling me closer. Her face brushed against the curve of my neck as she leaned in, her breath warm against my skin.
“Hope,” she echoed softly, her voice almost a whisper. “You speak of it like you’ve lived without it.”
I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Maybe I have.”
She said nothing, but her presence was a comfort in itself. For the first time, I felt that perhaps she wasn’t as untouchable as I’d thought.
The horse stopped, and we sat there in the meadow, surrounded by silence and flowers. Her arms around me felt protective, almost tender, and I found myself leaning into her warmth despite my anxiety.
“You’re not what I expected,” she murmured after a while, her tone carrying a hint of something I couldn’t place.
“Neither are you,” I replied before I could stop myself.
She laughed softly, a sound that made my chest ache in a way I didn’t understand. “Perhaps that’s why we’ll work,” she said, her lips brushing against my temple as she spoke.
****