6. Maximillian
— ? —
Maximillian
The morning light cuts through the bedroom curtains in pale stripes, and I lie still for a moment, watching Elle sleep.
Her hair has come loose from whatever she did to it before bed, spreading across the pillow in tangled waves that catch the early sun. The tight set of her jaw softens in sleep, and sometimes her mouth moves like she’s having a conversation I’m not invited to hear.
I could wake her and ask if she wants to come down for coffee before I go to the arena. Instead, I ease out of bed and find my training clothes in the soft light, pulling them on while she breathes steadily behind me.
She needs the rest. That’s what I tell myself as I pull on my boots in the hallway. She was quiet last night after dinner, after her mother left and Giselle went upstairs.
I asked if she was all right, and she said she was tired, and I didn’t push because I didn’t know what to push toward. I nearly brought up the championship again, but she was already turning toward the pillow.
There are weeks before we leave, plenty of time to figure out what that means for us.
The kitchen is empty when I pass through, but someone has already started coffee. I pour a cup and drink it standing at the window, watching the grooms cross the courtyard below.
Marco leads the young gray out of his stall, and I watch the horse plant his feet at the threshold, ears flat. Marco waits. He doesn’t pull. After a moment, the gray walks forward on his own.
I passed on Elle’s advice before we went to bed. She noticed something I missed, and she was right about it. I finish my coffee, pleased to have that to tell her when I get back, and head for the arena.
Giselle is already warming up when I arrive, walking the pale lesson mare around the outside track with her heels down and her shoulders back.
All those lessons have given her a decent seat and hands that are learning to follow the horse’s mouth instead of fighting it. She’s promising for a beginner, and I can see her thinking through each movement instead of reacting in panic.
She spots me before I reach the fence. Her face brightens, and she brings the mare around toward me.
“Morning! I was beginning to think I’d have to manage without you.”
“You managed to get her warmed up.” I swing myself over the fence instead of walking around to the gate, an old habit Elle used to tease me about. “How does the contact feel today?”
“Better, I think.” Giselle brings the mare to a halt a few feet away. “Although everything seems easier when you’re here.”
“Let’s see whether your elbows agree.”
She laughs and gathers her reins, but she doesn’t move off immediately.
“Was Georgina awake when you left?”
“No. I let her sleep.”
“That’s probably best.” Her smile softens. “Poor Georgina. She needs so much looking after lately.”
I glance up at her. “She’s been sleeping badly.”
“I know. I worry about her.” Giselle strokes the mare’s neck, smoothing the same patch twice. “And you, sometimes. You have enough people needing things from you without coming home to more of it.”
There’s a faint crease between her brows. I’ve seen her watching Elle at meals, trying to draw her into conversations that don’t always go anywhere. It can’t be easy, not knowing how to help her sister.
“Elle isn’t another job,” I say. “She’s my wife.”
“Of course she is.” Giselle answers quickly, her eyes lifting to mine. “I only meant you deserve someone looking after you too.”
“I have an entire staff attempting it. Most of them think I should be eating something right now.” I gesture toward the outside track. “Walk on. Show me what you’ve been doing.”
She holds my gaze for another moment, then asks the mare forward.
I watch her circle, looking for the tension that used to creep into her grip. It’s less pronounced today. Her shoulders settle as the mare finds a steady rhythm, and when she passes me again, her hands follow instead of pulling back.
“There. Feel the difference?”
Giselle looks toward me. “She’s not fighting me.”
“Because you’ve stopped fighting her. Keep your elbows like that.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“This part is simple. Remembering to do it is the problem.”
She smiles, apparently pleased with that, and lets the mare carry her through another circuit. I leave her alone for a few minutes. She needs to feel what she’s getting right as well as hear about what she’s getting wrong.
By the time I call her in, the mare is stretching comfortably into the contact.
“That’s enough for today. Walk her out, then take her in.”
“Already?” Giselle brings her to a halt beside me. “You’re very difficult to get to myself.”
“The mare gets a vote too.”
“I suppose I’ll have to share.”
She says it lightly, smiling down at me, and I reach for the bridle while she dismounts. Her landing is steadier than it was last week. She runs the stirrups up without being reminded, then turns toward me.
“Thank you, Max. Really.”
“You did the work.”
“Because you’re so patient with me.”
Her hand settles on my forearm. I expect a quick squeeze, but it stays there while she steps closer, her thumb moving slowly against the inside of my wrist.
“I look forward to this,” she says. “More than you probably realize.”
I know that feeling. For weeks after my first proper lessons, I used to wake before anyone came to fetch me, already impatient to get down to the horses.
“It gets under your skin.”
“Yes.” Her eyes stay on my face. “It does.”
The mare nudges my shoulder, searching for a treat. I turn toward her, and Giselle’s hand slips from my arm as I pass the reins back.
“No carrots on me, sweetheart. You’ll have to ask your rider.”
Giselle laughs a little and catches the reins.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Same time.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
She rests her hand on my arm once more before leading the mare away. I watch them reach the gate, pleased by how much more confidently she handles the horse now.
Elle’s little sister has always been affectionate. Lately, with so much of the family worrying about Elle, I suppose she’s grateful for something she can actually do well.
I understand that too.
This morning, I could see where she was struggling and give her a correction that helped.
Tomorrow, we can build on it. I stay by the gate for a moment, thinking about the lesson, then turn toward the training yard with the comfortable certainty of knowing what comes next.
***
Elle is awake when I get back, sitting at the table on the terrace with a cup of tea and an open book.
She’s pulled her hair back loosely, and she’s wearing the blue dress I bought her last spring.
She glances up when she hears my boots on the stones, and her mouth curves into something that’s almost a smile.
“You finally came.” She sets the book down as I drop into the chair across from her. “I was starting to think you’d moved into the stables.”
“I’m considering it.” I stretch my legs out under the table, letting my foot brush against hers. “The horses don’t complain about my schedule.”
“The horses don’t know any better.” She picks up her tea, watching me over the rim. “How was the lesson?”
“Good.” I reach for the water pitcher and pour myself a glass. “She’s starting to feel the rhythm instead of fighting it. Another few weeks and she might be ready to try some basic patterns.”
Elle nods, and I see her tuck something away behind her eyes. I’ve learned to recognize that look, the one that means she’s decided not to say whatever she was thinking. I used to push when I saw it. Now I tell myself I’m giving her space.
“What are you reading?” I nod at the book, hoping to find easier ground.
Elle holds it up so I can see the cover. Some historical novel with a castle on the front and gold lettering. “It’s terrible. The heroine keeps swooning, and the hero hasn’t done anything worth swooning over.”
“Maybe you should write him a letter.” I feel my shoulders relax at the familiar rhythm of her wit. “Give him some pointers.”
“Maybe I should.” Her mouth curves properly now, closer to the smile I remember. “Dear fictional duke, your horse is better developed than your personality. Please consider having a conversation with your alleged love interest before proposing marriage.”
I laugh, and she looks pleased with herself in a way that makes me want to reach across the table and pull her onto my lap. I don’t, because the morning staff are moving around inside and I’m still dusty from the arena, but I want to.
“I was thinking…” Her smile makes it easier to say what I’ve been putting off. “About spending some time together today. After training, maybe we could take a walk, or go into town?”
Elle closes the book with her finger between the pages. She’s heard the suggestion, but she isn’t getting up to make arrangements for us. “I’m actually going into town myself this afternoon. There’s a bookshop I’ve been meaning to visit, and the woman who runs it is holding something for me.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected her to have plans. Why hadn’t I expected her to have plans? “What time are you leaving?”
“Two o’clock.” She picks up her tea again, and there’s something careful in the way she’s not quite looking at me. “I asked Maria to arrange the car.”
“I could come with you.” Even as I say it, I’m calculating the training schedule in my head. Dante needs flatwork this morning, and I wanted to review some footage from last season before the grooms leave for the day. “After training. What time will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” Elle sets down her cup with a small, precise click. “I might stay for a while. Browse. Have coffee at that place near the square.”
I should offer to meet her there. I should pick a time and commit to it, the way she’s committed to her own afternoon. Instead, I hear myself say, “Perhaps I could catch up with you, if training doesn’t run long.”
She slips the receipt into her book to mark her page. “If you’re free. I’m still leaving at two.”