The noon light filtered through rice-paper windows as Evelyn stretched upon the lacquered daybed. Ruth groaned beside her, kneading the small of her back. "By the Saints." Ruth complained, "How do Easterners cultivate serenity sleeping on what feels like a church pew?"
Evelyn got up to pace the room, as she moved toward a hanging scroll. Ink-wash mountains cascaded down silk parchment, mist clinging to pine-clad ridges above tiered courtyards.
"Ruth, look! This..." She muttered, tracing the unrolled edge, "is the Orient as poets dream it."
Ruth heard this and went over to look at it as well. "That's marvelous, I wish I could go there and see it one day."
A rustle of hemp curtains announced Jew's arrival. The maid observed the entranced pair with amusement before clearing her throat delicately.
"My lady." She curtsied, the jade beads in her hair chiming. "Sister Grace awaits in the hall. Your training this afternoon is: etiquette for different occasions."
Evelyn inclined her head in acknowledgment and followed Jew through the corridor.
Grace's laughter bubbled up like a spring as she took in the drowsy pair - the princess's coronet braid slightly askew, Ruth still discreetly rubbing sleep from her eyes. With a conspiratorial wink to her attendants, she snapped her fan closed with a crisp click. Immediately, two maids materialized bearing celadon teacups on a lacquered tray, the porcelain so thin it glowed amber in the sunlight.
"Drink." Grace urged, the steam curling around her smile. "This is Pu'er from the ancient trees of my hometown. A single sip will banish the lingering dreams still clinging to your lashes." She watched with amusement as Ruth's eyes widened at the tea's earthy fragrance, so unlike their usual floral infusions at court.
That's when Grace spoke up again. "Today's lesson..." She announced, "concerns a ritual you've heard since childhood—the Coronation Rites."
"Pfft-" Evelyn spewed out a mouthful of tea, so surprised that she repeated, ''Coronation?"
"Yes."
"I haven't even become Queen yet... Wouldn't this be too early? We shouldn't presume..."
Grace looked in a strange way. "You think Prince Werner intend to spare the throne?"
"No... of course not."
"Then there's no question of learning sooner or later."
Evelyn thought about it carefully and felt that make sense, so she changed her attitude and apologized. "My bad. I'm sorry, it's better that you thought of it."
Grace stepped forward, gently helped Evelyn up. "Save these formalities, for the thousand courtiers who'll dissect your every gesture."
What followed bordered on sacred violence. Grace circled like a sword master, adjusting the angle of Evelyn's bowed head by degrees, counting heartbeats between movements. Ruth bit through her lip watching her mistress tremble through the thirty-seventh repetition of the Scepter Receiving posture. She couldn't help wanting to help Evelyn.
When she surged forward, Grace's eyes froze her mid-step.
Ruth didn't understand that Grace was such a gentle person, but she was so full of authority that people couldn't disobey her orders.
Noticing Ruth's interruptions, Jew smoothly stepped forward and clasped the handmaiden's arm with practiced ease.
"Come, Ruth." She said with a smile, gently but firmly guiding her toward the door despite Ruth's anxious glances back at Evelyn. "The courtyard holds more interesting pursuits than watching etiquette drills."
As they passed through the arched tunnel into the sunlit backyard, Ruth gasped. Before them stretched a verdant paddock where two dozen glossy-coated horses grazed peacefully, their tails swishing like metronomes against the summer air. Beyond the fence, an assortment of weapons and curious implements lay arranged with military precision.
Jew's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Tell me, dear Ruth, have you ever felt the wind rush through your hair astride a galloping steed?"
Ruth clutched her skirts. "Certainly not! What proper lady would engage in such unseemly—"
A shrill whistle cut through her protest. From across the field, a snow-white mare raised its head and came thundering toward them, hooves pounding the earth like war drums. The magnificent creature skidded to a halt before Jew, blowing steam through flared nostrils.
Before Ruth could react, Jew pivoted on her heel—skirts whirling like lotus petals in a storm—and vaulted onto the horse's bare back with the grace of a sparrow hawk taking flight. The mare danced sideways, its muscles rippling beneath moon-pale hide.
"Come!" Jew declared, stretching a hand down to the dumbfounded Ruth.
Ruth hastily waved her hands in refusal. "No, no... I wouldn't dare—"
"Ah—"
Before she could finish, Jew seized her arm and pulled hard. In an instant, Ruth found herself seated firmly on the horse, nestled against Jew's chest.
With a sharp "Giddy up!" from Jew, the horse surged forward.
At first, Ruth was too terrified to even open her eyes. She clung tightly to Jew, her fingers gripping the reins in a white-knuckled hold. But as she adjusted to the rhythm of the gallop, she dared to steal a glance—and the world rushing past sent a thrill coursing through her.
"Shout it out." Jew murmured in her ear, sensing her easing fear.
"But..."
"You're not in the palace. No one's asking you to be a lady."
Ruth hesitated only a moment before throwing her head back with a joyous "Woohoo—!"
"Yeah!"
Cheers erupted around them. Ruth turned to see the other maids of the dojo gathered by the stable, clapping and laughing in delight at her newfound boldness.
Inspired, Ruth forgot all about being a proper lady. Her eyes shone wide, her hands gripping the reins—no longer clinging to Jew in fear, but reveling in the thrill of the gallop, even as her steady presence anchored her.
Meanwhile, in the inner yard, Grace dabbed Evelyn's glistening forehead with a handkerchief. "That's enough for today," she said warmly. "Come, let's find Ruth. By now, she's probably having the time of her life."
Evelyn rose, stretched her stiff limbs, and trailed Grace toward the backyard.
Just as they arrived, a gust of wind and laughter announced Ruth's approach—her horse thundered across the clearing, Ruth waving joyously from its back.
"RUTH!" Evelyn gasped, torn between shock and worry as she sprinted forward.
The horse slid to a smooth halt before her, Jew's firm hand ensuring Ruth's safety. Ruth dismounted, cheeks flushed with exhilaration and a hint of sheepishness. She seized Evelyn's arm, breathless as she gushed about the rush of riding.
Evelyn's gaze drifted past her to the horses grazing nearby. An odd pull stirred in her chest—a longing to feel the wind tear through her hair, to command the stride of a beast beneath her. Though she couldn't recall ever riding, the instinct felt as natural as breathing. Almost trance-like, she found herself stepping toward a reddish-brown stallion, its coat gleaming like embers in the sun.
'"Wait—!"
Jew lunged forward, arm outstretched. "Princess Evelyn, that's a fiery horse!"
But Evelyn moved as if in a trance, her steps unwavering. She approached the crimson stallion, her voice a whisper: "Good boy…"
Her fingers hovered, then brushed its flank. "May I touch you? You're so… breathtaking."
A collective breath hitched. Even Grace—ever poised—clutched her skirts, knuckles whitening.
Then, the impossible:
The horse stilled. Not a flinch, not a snort. Instead, it pressed its forehead into Evelyn's palm, nostrils flaring as if tracing a long-lost scent. Then—slowly, deliberately—it bent its forelegs, bowing like a knight to its queen.
"This… can't be…" Jew's voice cracked.
Grace's hand shot out, gripping Evelyn's wrist. "Your Highness, this is no ordinary steed—its bloodline is forged in battle. Let us find you a gentler mount first."
But Evelyn only smiled, her fingers tracing the stallion's arched neck. "Sister Grace, I don't know why, but this horse feels like an old friend to me. I know he won't harm me." She turned, eyes bright with certainty. "But if it eases your heart, have a skilled rider join us."
Grace hesitated, then—with a resigned sigh—tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and tightened her sash. "Then I will be your guardian." She mounted behind Evelyn, arms encircling her waist like living armor.
The moment Evelyn took the reins, a memory flashed—a child's laughter, the thunder of hooves, the smell of wild grass. Instinct took over. Her heels pressed the stallion's flanks. "Giddyup!"
Wind roared in their ears as the horse surged forward. But Evelyn didn't flinch. Her body remembered what her mind had forgotten—leaning into the gallop, reins taut in one hand, whip steady in the other. Sunlight gilded her face as the world blurred into streaks of emerald and gold. No fear. Only freedom, wild and sweet as a half-remembered song.
Behind her, Grace had meant to shield Evelyn from danger, but now she realized her caution was unnecessary. Evelyn rode with the ease of a seasoned equestrian, but her unbound hair whipping like a banner in the wind—and directly into Grace's face.
With a quiet sigh, Grace tried to gather Evelyn's unruly locks, twisting them into a loose knot to tame them.
Then she froze.
Sunlight caught a few strands—not chestnut, but crimson, glowing like embers amidst the dark waves.
Grace's breath hitched. "You are...".
Jew's jaw went slack as the stallion tore across the field, its movements perfectly synced with Evelyn's commands. "That's what she calls 'never ridden a horse before'?" She muttered, turning to Ruth.
Ruth's hands flew to her cheeks. "Hmmm… We truly haven't—not once since I entered her service!" Her voice pitched higher with disbelief.
Jew's eyes narrowed. The way Evelyn leaned into the turns, the exact pressure of her knees—"That's not beginner's luck," she said lowly. "That's muscle memory."