Chapter 3
Violet
Wednesday’s Sociology lecture droned on about social stratification while I counted beige ceiling tiles and contemplated whether a lobotomy might finally grant me some peace.
My professor’s voice blurred into white noise as exhaustion clawed at the edges of my vision.
Night after night of broken sleep had left me raw, caffeinated beyond reason, and ready to crawl out of my own skin.
My roommate had tried to cheer me up that morning with her usual sunshine and small talk, bless her heart, but I’d barely managed civility before escaping to class.
You don’t have to be everyone’s cup of tea, I reassured myself.
Sometimes you just need to be gasoline and set that shit on fire.
I had to remind myself she was only trying to be kind.
Now, even the thought of returning to our shared space made my chest tight.
I’d given up by Thursday when I’d tossed and turned through another failed attempt at sleep. I needed to feel like myself again, even if it meant breaking a few rules. I needed Hyacinth.
The bus carried me across town to the Equestrian Facility as the sun began its descent.
Atlanta’s August heat still pressed down like a living thing, the kind of suffocating weight that made even breathing feel like work.
But as we passed the grove of Virginia Pine before the gate, I felt something in my chest loosen for the first time all week.
The stables greeted me with their familiar symphony: the earthy perfume of hay and manure, the creak of settling wood, the soft whicker of horses preparing for the evening. Students and staff moved through their routines, voices carrying across the barn as shadows lengthened through the slats.
And there he was.
Hyacinth was a Cleveland Bay—sixteen-hands high, with a shiny coat like polished copper and a black mane.
His ears flicked forward the moment he spotted me, nostrils flaring as if to scold me for taking so long to visit him.
His proud head arched, muscles shifting beneath his burnished coat, and warmth spread through my chest in a way I hadn’t felt all week.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered, stepping into his stall. His familiar scent wrapped around me like a memory: warm hide, sweat, leather, and hay. My fingers threaded into his thick mane, and for the first time in days, my pulse slowed.
I can finally breathe.
I pressed my forehead against his neck, inhaling the salt and earth that clung to him. My hands worked through his mane, untangling knots in motions we’d performed a thousand times before. He snorted and shifted his weight in that way that dared me to hurry up.
I smiled despite myself. “Impatient, aren’t we? Hold on, let me grab at least the bridle.”
By the time I led him from the barn, the world felt suspended, time bending just for me. I slipped onto his back without a saddle, feeling the warmth of his hide against my legs as his hooves struck a steady rhythm against the packed dirt.
We started slowly, weaving through trails I’d explored with him in previous weeks. With each breath, with each rise and fall of his gait beneath me, the knot in my chest loosened. For precious minutes, I felt unshackled.
When we reached the open field, I couldn’t hold back.
“Go,” I whispered.
Hyacinth surged forward like lightning freed from a storm.
I leaned into the motion, hands steady on the ebony reins as wind ripped past me, tangling my hair and stealing breath from my lungs.
The world blurred: gold streaking along the horizon, shadows reaching like dark fingers, the burn in my muscles as I held tight.
For a moment, it wasn’t this life or the last. It wasn’t Violet the student or Violet the broken girl who’d been bought and sold. It was just me, bare and unbound, freedom pulsing in time with Hyacinth’s stride.
We galloped until his breathing turned harsh, and only then did I draw him down, circling slowly until his muscles eased. My legs trembled from the strain, but I laughed: an unguarded, reckless sound that startled even me.
When I finally slid down to walk him back, the sky had shifted to indigo, stars pricking faintly against velvet. Grass cooled under nightfall, cicadas humming somewhere in the distance. Hyacinth lowered his head, nudging my shoulder with a huff that nearly knocked me off balance.
“I missed you too,” I murmured, stroking his muzzle.
We were approaching the gate when a voice—thick with an Irish accent—cut through the evening air. “Sure, you know fine rightly, ya shouldn't be goin' out without protection.”
Stablemaster Aaron stood by the entrance, his red hair catching the stable lights as he clicked open the gate.
Those ice-blue eyes fixed on me with a familiar, stubborn set jaw I’d seen countless times on Rowan.
I’d learned quickly after starting school that Aaron was nearly as headstrong as Hyacinth and Rowan combined.
A common theme with the men in my life, it seems.
I waved in acknowledgment, hearing gravel crunch under my boots as I threw the reins forward. “There are few things I can ride as well as my horse.”
Hyacinth snorted in response.
Aaron let us through, mindful of his manure-coated boots and Hyacinth’s hooves. The careful dance between them had me fighting back a smile. They really didn’t get along.
“The school’s legal team would have me head on a platter if anythin' happened, so they would,” he said, locking the gate and leaning against it.
His arms crossed over a charcoal grey shirt tucked into grass-stained jeans, sweat slicking his hair despite the cooling air.
His red hair and handsome face clashed with his gruff country boy aesthetic.
“Look here, Violet, it’s the insurance and the liability—the whole bloody mess.
This is your final warning, so it is. Catch me again, and I’ll be forced to file a complaint that’ll put your scholarship in real jeopardy. ”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a smile, though my face said, ‘Not a chance.’
Aaron huffed, reading between the lines and my look.
He pulled away from the gate, hand rubbing the back of his neck and leaving streaks of dirt mixed with sweat.
“Listen, Violet. I know you’ve got the trainin’, but you can’t break rules without consequences.
” His words softened, his accent lilting as he spoke.
“Even a blind man can see the bond between you and that horse.”
It was true. Hyacinth and I had grown up together in the fields that stretched between our home and my father’s business: both of us headstrong, both unwilling to yield.
I loved him with a fierceness that ached, though it hadn’t always been this way.
The early years had been blood, sweat, and tears until my father hired the trainer who’d finally gotten through to both of us.
“My trainer refused to coddle either of us,” I said, leading Hyacinth towards the grooming area. “Forged together in frustration and discipline.” I looked pointedly at my horse, making kissy noises. “He won’t ever buck me, right, baby?”
“Ah, sure you can’t know that for certain, now. A horse is still an animal, and an animal still has instincts.” Aaron’s voice carried exhaustion and concern in equal parts. “Besides, there’s been somethin’ in the woods spooking the horses something awful ever since the semester started.”
Guilt crept up from somewhere deep as I began preparing to groom Hyacinth. The last thing I wanted was to get Aaron in trouble for my selfishness.
The joys of having a conscience.
“Aaron, listen. . . I’m sorry.” The words felt strained but genuine. “I’ll try to be more mindful about riding bareback here. Back home, there wasn’t a single day I didn’t ride. It’s like breathing for me.”
I knew I had him then. He studied me as I moved around Hyacinth’s flank, then handed me a brush. “A good rider can hear his horse speak. A great rider can hear his horse whisper.”
I was intimately familiar with the quote. I went to work removing sweat, stimulating circulation, and promoting relaxation. Silence stretched between us until I heard his sigh of surrender.
“If someone else brings it up, I'll have to back them up, so I will.”
I peeked over Hyacinth’s withers, careful not to let my grin show. “You got it. I swear to be careful, only ride bare when no one’s looking, never to endanger you or us.” I knew I was admitting to my continuation of breaking school rules, but at least I was honest.
“Don't be comin' late for archery this week. It’s me own free time your folks are payin' for, so you should make the most of it.” Aaron grumbled and walked off, mumbling about being too soft.
I had the best night of sleep since I’d started college.
The next afternoon, after classes finished for me, Daddy picked me up from the Main Hall. Nerves made me slam my door too hard, which didn’t help the tension radiating from him before I’d even stepped in. He was upset, and I hadn’t even brought up the money yet.
“Hey, Daddy.” I kissed his cheek and settled into the passenger seat. He was in his typical black T-shirt and dark jeans. I ignored the anxiety threatening to crest and asked, “Are you okay?”
He gave me a gruff, “Yeah,” before pressing a kiss to my temple. “Better now that I’ve got you here.”
His tone was softer than his body language suggested. His jaw remained tight, his grip on the wheel just shy of white-knuckled. But he relaxed slightly once we both clicked our seatbelts.
“Surprised you wanted me to pick you up for the weekend,” he said, backing out of the lot. His voice carried careful weight, testing. “Is everything okay?”
The question held more than concern about school.
Daddy was asking how I was adjusting to being so recently reborn—just like he had been over a decade ago. While I hadn’t shared any details with him of how awful my first life had been, he knew I carried the dual memories from two wildly different lives with me.