The second day's competition began in the gentle afternoon light. The cross-country phase, the highlight of the three-day event, covered a course filled with hedges, water jumps, ditches, and uneven ground. Riders had a single goal: to finish with the fewest penalties in the shortest possible time.

  Knowing Jasper Jell was watching from the sidelines, and that Vance was there as well, made Elian's nerves tighten.

  Sunlight streamed through breaks in the forest canopy, and the cool air carried the damp scent of churned earth. Horses tossed their manes, snorting white plumes of breath into the air as the riders prepared to set off.

  Elian adjusted the reins, gaze fixed on the winding trail of obstacles ahead. His pulse raced, and Zephyrus shook his head restlessly. Elian stroked the stallion's neck, trying to calm them both, though the long-forgotten thrill only stoked his excitement further.

  "Zephyrus." His quiet call made the horse's left ear swivel back toward him.

  "I know you hate the stiffness of dressage. Today you can run free."

  Zephyrus pawed the ground with force, as if in answer.

  "Next competitor—Elian Lien!" The announcement rang out. Elian nudged Zephyrus toward the start line.

  "I've heard that Zephyrus wasn't as gentle as the name suggests, but carried the heart of a conqueror." Elian's eyes locked on the course. "Show me that power today."

  His chest tightened, fingers tingling. He remembered the ecstasy of the finish line, the thunder of hooves, the wind whipping past his ears—freedom, fever, flight.

  "There he is!" Aria shouted from the stands.

  "He talks to his horse a lot, doesn't he?" Jasper Jell's arms were folded, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the course. Broad-shouldered and still powerful despite his age, he wore a dark jacket with rolled sleeves, boots muddied from the grounds.

  "Yes," Aria nodded. "He treats the horse like a true friend."

  Vance stood silently beside them. When the rider's eyes pierced through the crowd in their direction, his breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

  The countdown began: "Five... four... three..."

  Elian drew a deep breath, his thoughts settling into focus.

  "Go!"

  At the signal, he tightened the reins and pressed his legs to Zephyrus's sides. The stallion coiled and sprang forward like a loosed arrow, pounding onto the course with explosive force.

  Hooves struck the earth with steady thunder, mud and dirt spraying into the air. Elian leaned forward, moving as one with the horse, the cold wind searing his cheeks but setting his blood aflame. His heartbeat merged with the rhythm of the gallop, the stallion's strength coursing through him in every stride.

  His sharp gaze scanned the terrain—twisting forest trails, steep grass slopes, mud pits of uneven depth. Every patch of ground was a test. But there was no hesitation. Together, they stormed into the first turn without losing speed.

  The opening obstacles were a series of narrow log fences, demanding precise rhythm.

  "Come on, partner," Elian murmured.

  Zephyrus cleared the first, then the second. The landings were solid, momentum strong.

  But the angled stump ahead was trouble. The approach was too fast.

  Jasper's eyes narrowed. A jump like that required perfect placement at takeoff. A fraction off and the horse's hooves would smash against the wood. Disaster was only a heartbeat away.

  Elian hadn't checked his speed, hadn't given Zephyrus an extra stride.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The crowd held its breath.

  Then, at the last instant, the stallion launched. His forelegs skimmed past the stump's edge. The landing wavered, but they stayed upright, balanced.

  "A close call! He nearly clipped the fence!" the commentator exclaimed.

  From the sidelines, Jasper frowned slightly, his eyes locked on Elian.

  The next obstacle was the water complex. This time, Elian had learned his lesson. He reined in early, guiding Zephyrus to step steadily into the pool. Yet the instant they landed, he realized he had slowed too much.

  The horse's momentum faltered, the drag of the water heavier than expected, and their rhythm broke.

  Elian reacted instantly. He urged Zephyrus forward, hands tightening on the reins while his hips followed through. In a heartbeat he reclaimed the lost tempo, setting the horse up with just enough stride to take off cleanly.

  "Perfect takeoff!" the commentator exclaimed.

  "Well, that was a surprise," Jasper murmured, his interest piqued.

  They landed to a roar of applause. This was no lucky escape. Elian's split-second judgment had turned what should have been a mistake into a display of control and trust.

  "This boy's gutsy enough to change rhythm on the fly. He really trusts his partner. Fine horse, wouldn't you say?" Jasper said, raising a brow.

  "Zephyrus is a fine horse," Vance answered evenly, "but a talented horse still needs the right rider to bring that out."

  "Coach Jell, you don't know the half of it," Aria chimed in, smug. "No one at this stable can really ride Zephyrus except Elian."

  "Oh?" Jasper's interest deepened.

  "Well, apart from Mr. Heaton, of course." Aria stuck out her tongue. "The boss can handle him too."

  "It's been a long time since I worked with Zephyrus," Vance said quietly. "Even then, I could control him, but I never reached the kind of harmony he's showing now."

  Jasper laced his fingers beneath his chin, eyes fixed on the screen. The black stallion surged over each fence with power, yet the rider always seemed to catch him at the brink of chaos, turning it into a precise landing.

  "I see it now. A horse with a temper like that isn't easy to manage. But for his age, the boy handles him with remarkable skill."

  The course was nearly over. The finish line loomed ahead. Elian crouched low and urged Zephyrus over the final fence.

  The horse cleared it in a powerful leap, landed square, and thundered across the line.

  Cheers swept through the crowd. Zephyrus panted heavily, his coat splattered with mud, but together they had done it.

  "Well done, Zephyrus!" Elian cried, patting his horse's neck.

  "Not bad at all," Jasper said after a pause. "Considering this is his first competition after years away, it shows real promise."

  He wasn't dismissing Elian's talent. If anything, the ride proved the boy had skill, calm judgment, and even the spark of a top rider. The only question was whether he could sustain it—or if this was just a fleeting glimpse.

  Either way, few riders his age could match it.

  Elian pulled off his helmet, his ash-blond hair damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead. Breathless but grinning, he ran toward Aria and the others. Almost unconsciously, he searched for Vance in the crowd, hoping to catch even a flicker of approval.

  Maybe he didn't realize it himself, but more than the coach's praise, what he wanted was Vance's recognition.

  Unfortunately, those blue eyes were as cold and unreadable as ever.

  "Elian, watch your step!" Aria shouted.

  He stumbled, about to misstep, when a firm hand caught him.

  "Be careful," Vance said.

  Mud splattered from Elian's boots onto the other man's expensive leather shoes, and his competition jacket was soaked with sweat and dust. Yet Vance didn't so much as cast him a look of disdain. Instead, he simply steadied Elian onto solid ground.

  "Thanks..."

  Elian braced himself, half-expecting Vance to snap; after all, the young master of the Heatons had always been something of a neat freak, loathing the touch of sweat. But he quickly forgot his worry, because Jasper Jell was walking toward them with his hands tucked in his pockets.

  Jasper wasn't tall. Compared to the riders around him, he was even a bit short. But when he stood there, he carried a presence that couldn't be ignored. His back was ramrod straight, radiating a soldier's discipline. His cropped hair showed streaks of silver among the deep brown, but the years had done nothing to dim the sharpness in his features.

  "Not bad," Jasper said, his voice stern. "But not good enough."

  "I know. Some of my takeoffs could've been better," Elian admitted.

  "This sport isn't just about speed. You need to ride with your head, understand?"

  "I was riding with my head," Elian shot back, one brow lifting.

  Jasper paused, then his tone eased slightly. "You do have talent. But what I need to see is you turning instinct into consistent performance."

  "I'll work on it." Elian said, already lost in thought.

  Next up was Dylan Fitzgerald.

  The screen flashed his strong dressage scores along with the blue field and red-crossed Union Jack of Great Britain.

  "Watch closely, little one," Dylan called over with a grin. "I'll show you what real control looks like."

  He flicked his fringe out of his eyes, earning an eye roll from Elian, who nevertheless kept his gaze on the ring.

  Dylan's horse had even more explosive power than Zephyrus. The moment they launched from the start, they showed staggering drive. Dylan's technique was still razor-sharp, his posture immaculate, handling each obstacle with practiced ease.

  Yet his rhythm faltered more than once. At a set of combination fences, his horse had to add an extra stride on the landing before clearing the next jump, bleeding precious seconds.

  "Fitzgerald played it a little safe there," the commentator noted. "Still, his speed is top-tier. He should be able to hold on to first."

  In the end, Dylan secured the top spot by a slim margin, while Elian moved up to fourth.