“Very well,” she agreed. “For Tempest.”
Dorian smiled faintly. “For Tempest,” he echoed.
The walk toward the stables felt unfamiliar despite the route becoming routine over recent weeks. Usually, they spoke easily together. Dorian would tease her relentlessly, and she would correct him with growing ease. Somewhere between irritation and amusement, they had developed a rhythm neither of them seemed to notice.
But that morning, silence stretched awkwardly between them. Dorian glanced at her more than once as they crossed the yard, though she kept her attention fixed firmly ahead.
The stablehands moved quickly through the yard, preparing horses for training. Somewhere nearby, a mare protested loudly while another trainer attempted unsuccessfully to calm her. Normally, Anne would have commented on it, but that day she said nothing.
Finally, Dorian broke the silence.
“You are unusually quiet.”
Anne kept walking. “I have already spoken. You know why I am not my usual self.”
“Yes,” he said. “But that does not mean I cannot be concerned.”
“That sounds most dramatic.”
“You generally enjoy it when I am dramatic.”
“I do not recall saying that.”
“You implied it,” he replied. “Repeatedly.”
Anne exhaled quietly. “You seem determined to continue speaking regardless of whether I encourage it or not.”
He looked sideways at her. “That is because you are behaving strangely.”
“I am behaving normally.”
“No,” he said gently. “You are behaving politely.”
She glanced at him. “And those are different things?”
“With you?” he asked. “Very.”
The answer unsettled her more than she wanted to admit, because some dangerous part of her still wanted to believe he paid attention in ways that mattered.
The stables appeared ahead before she could respond. Tempest noticed her immediately. The black horse lifted his head sharply, ears pricking forward before he moved instinctively toward the edge of the enclosure.
Anne softened automatically.
“There you are,” she murmured quietly.
The horse pressed closer at once, calmer already beneath her hand as she reached for his neck. Dorian stood nearby, watching the transformation happen, and she was tempted to look back smugly.
“He has improved,” she said after a moment, examining him carefully. “His gait looks steadier.”
“You were right about adjusting his training schedule,” Dorian acknowledged. “Pembroke has become intolerably pleased with your success.”
“That must be difficult for you.”
“It is unbearable.”
Ordinarily, she would have smiled, but this time only the faintest hint of amusement touched her lips before disappearing again.
Dorian noticed.
