Timmy didn't notice Elian's awkwardness and kept leading him deeper into the stables. "Anyway, the boss really has vision. What good are fancy designer bags? Better to put your effort into living, breathing horses. That's what makes a real enterprise."

  Elian didn't argue. He knew luxury goods made far greater profits, but he was grateful that Vance still poured his energy into running and advancing the equestrian world.

  Timmy led him into a row of iron-fenced stalls. "This is where the grooms clean the horses—tacking, bathing, brushing, hoof trimming, all of it. Behind here are the main stables. We keep Thoroughbreds, warmbloods, and cold-bloods."

  "Oh, and I almost forgot the most important part." Timmy stopped. "Your contract includes a horse. The boss asked me to let you take a look and see if any catch your interest. The left side holds Heaton's horses—you can choose from any of them."

  Elian's eyes lit up immediately. "Any of them?"

  Timmy nodded. "Any of them. Hold on, I'll grab the files."

  Elian wandered along the stalls, gazing at each horse with the rapt expression of a child in a candy shop.

  A sharp pounding echoed through the corridor. "Bang, bang, bang." Elian turned to see a black stallion hammering its hooves against the stall door.

  The horse's frame was long and powerful, its muscles taut with strength. Its coat gleamed so dark it shimmered with violet undertones.

  When it raised its head, Elian had to tilt his chin up just to meet its eyes. They were dark orbs that carried the weight of storm clouds, sudden downpours, and the hauteur of a god gazing down from above.

  "Zephyrus... you're still here!" Elian stepped toward the stall, entranced.

  He had seen this horse many years ago. Back then, Zephyrus had been wild and untamable, nearly sent to slaughter. But Elian had known from the very first glance that beneath the feral exterior lay a gentle soul.

  Even after all these years, he recognized him instantly.

  Elian had never stopped thinking about Zephyrus. The stallion was as fierce as a tempest, yet once tamed, revealed an astonishing brilliance. He had long assumed Zephyrus had been sold off, never imagining Heaton Stables had kept him all along.

  "It's so good to see you again." He reached out, wanting to brush his fingers along Zephyrus's face.

  "That horse is dangerous. Don't put your hand in there!" Timmy reappeared, arms full of folders, shouting in alarm.

  "He won't bite me." If Zephyrus remembered him, he wouldn't. Still, Elian drew his hand back slightly, then whispered through the bars, "Hey, Zephyrus. It's me. Do you remember?"

  What happened next was beyond expectation.

  The ears that had been pinned flat in warning flicked upright. Slowly, Zephyrus stepped forward and pressed his muzzle gently against Elian's hand.

  Elian laughed, giddy with relief, rubbing the stallion's face. "I knew you'd remember me, brother."

  Timmy gaped at the sight. "Wait—what? Zephyrus doesn't let anyone near him except the boss!"

  "You said I could pick any horse. Then I've decided. I want Zephyrus." Elian's voice was steady, without hesitation.

  "I'm afraid he's the one exception."

  "What? Why?" Elian's smile froze.

  "Zephyrus isn't just one of the stable's horses. He's the boss's personal mount. Only the boss can handle him."

  Elian's expression crumpled. "Oh... I see."

  Timmy gave him a wary look. "How do you even know Zephyrus?"

  "I came here years ago. Back then, the staff said he was impossible to control—maybe abused before, because he'd lash out at anyone, thrash in his stall, never calm down. Old Mr. Heaton even considered selling him."

  Stolen story; please report.

  "And?"

  "With the trainer's help and mine, he finally made it through riding training." Elian smiled faintly. "So I'd say at least he doesn't hate me."

  Timmy shoved a thick bundle of pedigree files into Elian's arms. "Either way, you'll still need to choose another horse."

  Elian fumbled with the weight, sighing. "Actually, I have another horse at a different stable. Her name's Diane." He paused in thought. "She's been with me for years. If I can persuade the owner, maybe I can bring her here to train."

  Diane was a dapple-gray mare, her coat like white paint scattered across pale ink, shading darker down her legs. When she ran, shifting light and shadow gave her a lavender sheen. Just walking her into an arena often drew praise for her elegance.

  "No."

  At the sound of that voice, both Elian and Timmy turned toward the entrance. Timmy quickly reacted. "Boss, you're back from the meeting?"

  Vance's figure came into view, and Elian's pupils widened as his heart skipped a beat. Vance wore a tailored suit, platinum blond hair slicked back with a few strands falling over his temple, swaying with his stride. Unlike his father's impenetrable gray eyes, Vance's icy blue gaze was like a frozen vault, cold enough to pierce straight into the mind.

  "Diane's graceful, supple frame might earn you high marks in dressage, but she lacks the explosive power for show jumping. Besides, any serious competitor must have more than one horse."

  Elian froze, only realizing after a long pause that Vance was addressing him. He opened his mouth, but his throat was dry.

  "Mr. Heaton... hello." Elian's greeting came out stiff, and he wasn't even sure what kind of smile he was forcing.

  But Vance, as if bearing no grudge at all, simply nodded and repeated, "So, you really mean to race with Diane as your mount, even though she isn't strong at jumping?"

  "Of course not." Elian scratched his hair nervously. "As long as I time the jumps right, Diane can clear them."

  "You can race with Diane as your mount, but as a rider you should be equipped with at least two or three horses." Vance's eyes narrowed slightly. "Or are you saying none of the horses in my stables are good enough for you?"

  "It's not that." Elian waved his hands, but his gaze instinctively flicked toward Zephyrus. "I just feel lucky to even have Diane."

  Vance followed his line of sight to where the black stallion was slamming against the bars in agitation.

  "You want Zephyrus?"

  "No, no, I heard he's your private horse."

  Vance's gaze slid toward Timmy. "Did he tell you he wanted Zephyrus?"

  "Uh, yes... but I told him it wasn't possible."

  Vance's eyes returned to Elian, studying him deeply. "And you still recognize Zephyrus?"

  "I do."

  "Then tell me, is he the one you want?"

  Elian gave a reluctant nod. "Yes."

  "No problem. If that's what you want."

  Elian lifted his head in shock, as did Timmy, both stunned by the decision.

  Vance unlatched the gate himself, slipped on Zephyrus's reins, and led the stallion out.

  "Before you make up your mind, you must test the partnership for yourself," Vance said.

  Under his hand, Zephyrus was more restrained, though once brought to the saddling area, he pawed the ground with restless energy. Timmy nearly got his arm caught when the stallion snapped at him as he set the saddle in place.

  "Zephyrus is intelligent. Even with less training than the others, he understands commands well." Vance stepped aside to let Elian approach. "But he has bad habits—snatching the reins, losing focus on his rider. You must never indulge him."

  "No problem." Elian placed his boot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle, immediately shortening the reins.

  "His trot has a violent surge. Keep to his rhythm." Vance gave a signal, prompting Zephyrus forward.

  Elian pressed his heels lightly into the stallion's sides, urging him into a trot. The surge of energy was rough, almost unruly, but Elian adjusted quickly.

  Moments later, he was grinning from the saddle, his flaxen-brown hair whipping across his forehead, eyes gleaming with exhilaration. "This feels incredible! Zephyrus is exactly the horse I've been looking for!"

  Vance stood outside the training ring, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the boy astride the black stallion.

  Timmy looked from Zephyrus back to Vance. "Boss, are you really giving him Zephyrus?"

  "As long as he and Zephyrus can shine together in the arena, why not?" Vance's voice was calm, almost distant.

  Timmy muttered bitterly under his breath, "So I train that beast for two years and he still tries to bite me, but this kid walks in and the horse obeys?"

  Elian, wiping sweat from his brow, forgot for a moment how little Vance liked conversation. Brimming with excitement, he blurted, "Zephyrus has such explosive power!"

  "Mm." Vance gave a brief response.

  Elian glanced at him, then at Timmy, and offered an awkward smile. "Of course, I owe it all to the generosity of Mr. Heaton and Timmy's skilled training."

  Timmy snorted. "Flattering the boss already, huh?"

  "Elian."

  Vance's voice cut through the air, making him flinch.

  "You'll be housed in the staff quarters. From now on, focus solely on your training for the competitions. Stop taking work as a racetrack jockey." He lowered his gaze slightly. "Don't do it again."

  "...All right."

  Elian thought he might say more, but in the end, that was all.

  The air was thick with the scents of hay and bedding, light spilling through the slats in shifting patterns. Elian looked at Vance, whose face overlapped with the one in his memory. The words he wanted to say caught in his throat, and he swallowed them down.