CHAPTER 232: HORSE RIDE

Serena prayed silently that this horse would cooperate with her. This was one she had not ridden, a young stallion who was hellbent on embarrassing her.

"Come on now," she murmured, tugging lightly on the reins. The beast jerked its head sideways and stomped a hoof in clear protest. Serena bit her lip and resisted the urge to glare at it. A soft chuckle came from behind her, drawing her attention.

Amara sat astride a dappled grey mare, dressed in sleek riding leathers that gleamed faintly in the morning sun. Her cloak was pinned with a subtle silver clasp bearing Dawnbreak’s insignia, her dark hair tied back in a practical braid.

"If I may?" she asked, gesturing toward the stallion.

Serena hesitated, pride bristling, but she finally nodded. "If you think he will heed you then yes, go ahead."

Amara dismounted in a smooth motion and approached the stallion with a low whistle and an outstretched hand. Her movements were easy, practiced. She whispered something Serena could not hear, and the horse stilled almost instantly, snorting once before dipping his head.

"Sometimes," Amara said over her shoulder, "they just want to be acknowledged."

Serena blinked, surprised. "Thank you," she said, her voice a little stiff but sincere.

"You are most welcome," Amara replied as she helped Serena into the saddle. "Besides, I was not about to let you be thrown off before the trip even began."

The route had already been marked out, along the ridge toward the lower Silverpine stretch, where the old ruins of outposts and watchtowers still dotted the landscape. Darius himself had approved the small expedition, granting Amara and Elen permission to accompany Serena and Charlotte after a brief, quiet discussion. Just before they set out, he had leaned in and kissed Serena on the forehead, his hand resting lightly on her waist.

"It will be good for diplomacy," he had murmured, "and you will be safe with Charlotte."

She’d hoped so.

Charlotte, as expected, took the lead. Her pale cloak rippled in the breeze, the sigil of Crimsonclaw stitched into the inner lining. Her mare trotted with steady, measured steps, Charlotte knew these roads, and it showed. Amara rode alongside Serena with ease, chatting as if they were old friends rather than political counterparts.

"I never grow tired of the Ironshade air," Amara mused. "There is something clean about it. Less perfume, more pine."

"Perfume is not always a vice," Serena said mildly.

"True," Amara replied, smiling. "But sometimes, too much scent masks a great many things."

Serena chose not to answer, instead focusing on the path ahead.

Elen trailed a few paces behind, unusually silent. She responded when spoken to but rarely volunteered conversation. It was odd, she was more chatty the first time they had met. She came off reserved but not so muted. Serena tried to slow her pace to draw even with her.

"Are you well?" she asked, voice lowered as the horses picked their way over a rocky incline.

Elen looked up, startled as though emerging from a daydream. "Yes, of course. Just taking it in."

"Only, you seem-"

"Distracted?" Amara called cheerfully from Serena’s other side. "She always gets like this when we ride anywhere new. You know the usual, just brooding like a duck. Don’t mind her, she is useless for conversation when the sun’s out."

Serena’s lips thinned. It was the third time Amara had cut across a moment of privacy between her and Elen. She offered a polite smile, but her mind was working furiously.

Amara never let Elen out of her sight. The older woman was always nearby, intercepting glances and soft exchanges. At first Serena had chalked it up to a protective instinct, perhaps they were close friends, or Amara was simply cautious with unfamiliar territory. But it was beginning to feel calculated.

Elen offered a faint smile, but her gaze dropped to her reins. "I am sorry, I don’t mean to be rude."

"You are not," Serena said quickly. But the damage was done. Whatever she had hoped to uncover with a discreet word or shared look had slipped away.

They crested the ridge, the city of Longdale vanishing behind them into a shimmer of grey rooftops and distant bell towers. Before them, a stretch of green and stone opened wide, the remnants of an old Ironshade waystation still standing in the valley below.

Charlotte drew her horse to a halt and raised a gloved hand. "We will rest there, briefly," she said. "There is fresh water for the horses and some shade for ourselves."

They descended in pairs, Serena still half-focused on Elen, who remained withdrawn. Amara, ever vibrant, dismounted and began inspecting the ruined outpost like an adventurer cataloguing relics.

"This must be centuries old," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Ironshade has such a history. You could walk through your own shadows here and not realize it."

Charlotte arched a brow. "That is the idea. We remember what came before, even if it no longer stands."

Amara nodded. "Spoken like a true Ironshader."

Serena stilled and then arched a brow in Amara’s direction. "An Ironshader?"

"Oh, you just seemed like the people. My apologies, daughters of Crimsonclaw," Amara said.

Serena took a deep breath. The conversation was civil, the atmosphere peaceful, but her mind was anything but. Amara was no fool, she was strategic, well-spoken, and masked everything in charm. And Elen, silent and twitchy under the weight of eyes that never left her, was either terribly shy or... closely watched.

More than ever, Serena felt the stirrings of worry in her chest. Something about Dawnbreak’s delegation did not sit right. And the longer Amara remained between her and the younger wolf, the more Serena suspected that Elen was not just a companion. She was a kept thing, tethered by unspoken chains.

Amara glanced between them all with a glint in her eye. "Shall we pass the time with a little game?" she asked lightly. "Something harmless, truths and tales, perhaps. It might make the break more amusing." She leaned against a stone wall, smile playful. "Unless you wolves lack the stomach for fun?"