Page 106 of My Dark Horse Prince

So does my heart.

Waiting.

To see what he’ll do next.

“You’re the boss, now,” he says. “Because I discovered that more than keeping you alive, it’s my job to keep you happy. I think that’s what real love is. When nothing matters more to you than the other person’s happiness, you’re in love. So now, if you’re alive but not happy, that means that I’ve failed.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

He lifts his hand and cups my jaw. “Mirdza, I don’t intend to fail ever again.”

20

For the next two weeks, I make up reasons not to turn Charlemagne into a human. Or to keep him in the barn during his thirty-minute stint, while I’m pulled away to deal with other things. It’s fairly easy, between my mom and Adriana being everywhere, and Kristiana increasing the length of our workouts. Plus, with one lesson horse back, I start teaching a few of my students who are already sick of dealing with Brigita. It feels nice to be back to normal, at least a little bit.

By the time we finish our flat work, we’re usually both exhausted.

And when we circle back in the afternoon to work on jumps, after a little TLC from Aleks, Kris pushes even harder.

“It’s pretty neat that we can work this long, really,” Kris says. “If you tried to do this with a real horse, there’s no way he could hold up.”

Charlemagne’s ears both swivel forward and there’s a little more spring in his step.

“Then again, real horses listen to their rider better.” Kris scowls at him, but then turns the same look on me. “And other riders make the horse listen when he ignores them by using their spurs or a crop.”

That’s been our biggest issue, really.

It’s a little like having two drivers trying to control the same car.

“You need to do your job.” Kris glares. “And you.” She chucks a pebble at Charlemagne’s butt. “You need to remember you’re not the boss. She’s driving.”

He snorts.

“This is a team sport, but only one person can be making the decisions about where you go, how fast you get there, and when you turn. The other teammate is supposed to be listening.” Kris has taken to pacing back and forth along the side of the arena and barking commands like she’s the second rider. My poor friend, who’s supposed to be selling her practice and planning a wedding, looks stressed to the max.

I wish there was someone else who could coach us, but no one else really understands the fairly important dynamics of why our partnership exists.

Kristiana whips her head around and pins me with a stare. “Can you treat him like a real horse?”

I nod.

“And can you actually listen to her?” She drops her gaze to Charlemagne’s beautiful head.

He tosses his head and paws the ground.

“Is that a yes?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Alright, let’s try this again, but at speed this time.” She tosses her head toward the starting jump.

Before I can even ask for anything, Charlemagne’s cantering toward it, and I’m left scrambling to stay in my seat. We clear the first vertical, but I nearly topple over his ears when he pitches forward too much, and I’m not ready.

By the time we hit the combination, a single into a square oxer with two strides between, we’re going way too fast, and I fall forward, my hands scrabbling at Charlemagne’s mane.

“You two are ridiculous,” Kris says.

“It’s his fault,” I practically spit. “He just took off.”

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