The Warrior of Avelyn

Ⅷ

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since Clara had stopped training with the rest of the knights to protect the prince from any harm that may come his way.

She was changing the prince's sheets when he barged in his room, startling her.

"Cleo, grab my hunting attire."

"We're going hunting?" she perked up, getting a chance to get out of the castle and roam the woods.

The prince stared at her for a moment, studying her expression. She was beaming. He then rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath.

"I suppose you might as well come along." Not that he had a choice.

Clara's grin widened as she hurried with making his bed, to move onto packing his things. She knew exactly what he would need since she had always helped Edwin gather his things for when he accompanied the king.

He only took her with him once, and that was two years ago, so she was beyond excited to join this hunting party.

Of course she wasn't excited for the hunting itself, rather the journey in the woods. The thought of taking a life scared her to...ironically, death.

But she knew that day would come soon, as much as she wished it wouldn't.

Much faster than what the prince had expected, Clara had gathered all the essentials and stood before him, grinning. He couldn't help the small tug at his lips, but he quickly hid it with a cough.

"Let's get you a horse then, shall we?"

That was the first time he saw a twinkle in her eyes directly.

He stared for a moment longer and then made his way out the door without another word, Clara following behind him with two bags on her shoulders, trying to keep up with him without tripping on the hem of her dress. Soon enough they arrived at the stables, where the accompanying knights were waiting and preparing.

"Clara?"

Both the prince and his maidservant turned to the voice, seeing Julian checking the saddle of his horse. With a wide smile, Clara waved at him excitedly, making the prince roll his eyes and put an arm over her shoulder to grab her attention.

"Go on then, choose a horse."

Both men watched as her face brightened up even more, and they wondered how it was even possible to do so. She walked closer to the horses, petting them; and as if the horses had seen her a million times, they leaned into her touch, showing no fear, only trust.

Clara stopped in front of a pitch black horse, so dark it seemed as if the light did not reflect off it.

Victor's chest tightened and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the interaction. He knew that horse very well, as he had many fond memories riding him.

But never alone, for he rode him as a child, with his mother.

She called him Shadow, not because of his color, but because he's been with her so much, as if he was her shadow. She was the one who took care of him as a foul. Victor's father had told him many stories of how protective shadow was of his mother, especially when she was pregnant with him. And when he was born, he had been incredibly gentle with him, even as he grew up, Shadow was always watching out for him, like a guardian angel.

Ever since the queen had passed away, her son avoided Shadow like the plague, the memories haunting his still healing heart.

And now he was watching another woman interact with the same horse. Tears welled up in his eyes; the blur making it look like his mom was standing there once again.