Lira

Chapter 3: Hoofbeats Shatter the Calm

Ten days later.

Mornath Manor was expecting two guests, and they arrived right on schedule.

Lira stood by the second-floor window, watching two carriages roll one after another onto the manor's cobblestone drive. The first bore the silver-gray crest of House Gray—a falcon with outstretched wings. The second was the understated yet exorbitantly priced black lacquered carriage of the Merchant family. It bore no crest, but its four pure black stallions spoke volumes about their owner's wealth.

She drew the curtain closed and turned to face her reflection in the dressing mirror.

At fourteen, her waist was impossibly slender, honey-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her features soft and gentle, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile played at her lips. Her face was identical to Liora's, yet everyone said their temperaments were polar opposites—Liora was fire, blazing bright wherever she went; she was water, flowing silently in the shadows, unseen and unheard.

In her previous life, she had liked it that way. She liked being unnoticed, hiding behind her books, living her quiet life in the corners. Now she understood that still waters run deep, and they are the most dangerous of all.

"Sister!"

The door burst open, and Liora strode in wearing her riding habit—a navy blue jacket paired with cream-colored breeches and polished brown calfskin boots, looking every inch the dashing young equestrienne. Her hair was tied high in a ponytail, revealing her slender neck, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"Why are you still wearing that?" Liora looked her up and down disdainfully. "Lord Gray and Mr. Merchant have arrived. Father wants us downstairs to greet them. You're wearing that old thing?"

Lira glanced down at her light gray morning gown and said flatly, "I'm not going yet."

"Why not?"

"I'm reading."

She held up the book in her hand—Discourse on the Origin and Basis of Inequality Among Men. Liora glanced at the title and scoffed. "More of this tedious drivel. Sister, when will you stop being such a bore and act like a normal girl?"

Lira didn't answer, just turned a page.

Liora curled her lip and turned to leave, but paused at the threshold and looked back. "Oh, and we're going to the riding grounds later. Even if you have to fake it, at least put on a decent show. Don't make Father look bad."

The door clicked shut, and her footsteps faded down the corridor.

Lira set the book aside and returned to the window, watching Liora's figure flit across the garden toward the stables.

The riding grounds.

In her previous life, during this very same visit ten days later, her sister had never suggested going to the riding grounds. In fact, Liora had never known how to ride at all back then—she'd complained that riding dirtied her dresses, that horses smelled, and that the sport was unladylike. It wasn't until she married Theodore Merchant at seventeen that she'd started learning equestrianism under her husband's influence.

Yet now, she was the one who'd proposed the outing.

Lira tapped her fingers lightly on the window frame twice.

She remembered the ball ten days ago, when Liora had walked up to Kael Gray of her own accord; remembered her sister saying "people need to change their tastes sometimes"; remembered all those seemingly casual but deliberately calculated moves.

A thought slithered into her mind like a venomous serpent, coiling tight and flicking its forked tongue.

But she wasn't certain yet.

Lira stepped away from the window and changed into her pale blue riding habit. She'd barely ridden in her previous life, but in this one, there were countless things she had to master. She walked out of her room, descended the grand staircase, traversed the long gallery, and made her way to the riding grounds at the rear of the manor.

The sun was bright, and the spring air was redolent with the scent of fresh grass and turned earth. A small crowd had gathered by the railings—her father, Rowan Mornath, was dressed in a dark brown hunting coat, conversing with Kael Gray. Kael wore a dark silver-gray riding jacket today, which lent him an air of gentle refinement, a perfectly practiced smile on his lips as he nodded along from time to time.

Her stepmother, Joan, stood a little apart, with Liora and Theodore Merchant beside her.

Theodore Merchant was nineteen, a year younger than Kael, but already tall and broad-shouldered. He wore an immaculately tailored black riding habit, a ruby brooch pinned to his collar, his black curly hair falling artfully over his shoulders. His features were sharp and deep, and a perpetual sardonic smile played at his lips. That was what had drawn Liora to him in her previous life—his reckless, untamed spirit, so different from the stuffy, pretentious nobles.

At that moment, Theodore was leaning down murmuring something in Liora's ear, and she laughed, her laughter as clear as wind chimes.

"There's Lira." Joan spotted her first, her smile warm but distant. "It's quite a surprise to see you out riding today."

"I should get some exercise every now and then." Lira walked to her stepmother's side, her gaze sweeping over the assembled guests before finally settling on Liora.

Her sister was excitedly stroking a chestnut mare led out of the stables, her touch surprisingly adept. She patted the horse's neck, then slipped her foot into the stirrup and swung herself up into the saddle in a single fluid motion, without a hint of awkwardness.

Lira's stomach dropped.

In her previous life, Liora's first time on a horse had been at seventeen, when she'd been so clumsy she'd needed two grooms to help her mount, and hadn't even known which end of the reins to hold. Yet now—

"Miss Liora rides beautifully." Kael watched Liora on horseback, genuine admiration in his voice. "Do you ride regularly?"

"I've been riding since I was a little girl." Liora sat straight in the saddle, her smile dazzling. "Father says I ride like a tomboy, not a proper lady at all."

"A woman who can handle a spirited horse is the epitome of grace and poise." Theodore Merchant interjected, looking up at Liora with a spark of interest in his eyes. "Miss Liora, would you care for a race?"

"A race?" Liora arched an eyebrow challengingly. "Don't you dare underestimate me, Mr. Merchant."

They exchanged a look, then urged their horses forward in unison. Hoofbeats thundered against the ground, kicking up clouds of dust. Lira stood rooted to the spot, watching her sister's back as she leaned low over the horse's neck and galloped away, her fingers tightening convulsively around the reins she held.

She rode flawlessly.

This wasn't the skill of someone who'd started at seventeen—it was the instinct of someone who'd ridden every day since childhood.

Someone who'd never ridden in her previous life was suddenly an expert equestrian. If she hadn't been reborn, what other explanation could there be?

"Won't you join us, Miss Lira?"

Kael's voice came from directly behind her. Lira turned slowly. He was standing no more than three paces away. The sun was at his back, casting his face half in light and half in shadow. His eyes were gray-blue, like a lake frozen over with thin winter ice—deceptively gentle, but cold enough to chill you to the bone.

In her previous life, she had adored those eyes.

Now, she wanted nothing more than to carve them out of his skull.

"I'm afraid I'm rather poor at it." Lira ducked her head, her voice soft and girlishly shy. "I hope I won't embarrass myself in front of you, Lord Gray."

"No one is born a skilled rider." Kael took a step closer and extended his hand. "Allow me to assist you?"

Lira stared at that hand. Long, slender fingers, distinct knuckles, nails perfectly manicured—a nobleman's hand, elegant, proper, immaculate. In her previous life, this hand had led her down the wedding aisle, had clasped hers at her bedside and promised her she would recover soon. It had also roamed over Liora's waist, committing the vilest acts where she could not see.

She gave him a faint, demure smile and placed her hand in his.

"I would be most grateful, my lord."

His hand was warm, his palm dry, his grip firm but gentle. Lira slipped her foot into the stirrup and used his strength to swing herself up into the saddle—her movement was inelegant but far from clumsy. She settled into the seat, glanced down at Kael for a split second, then quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing pink as if she was too shy to meet his eyes.

Kael watched her, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Miss Lira is quite charming," he murmured, almost to himself.

No one else heard, but Lira did. She lowered her long, dark lashes, hiding that faint, calculated smile behind them.

Charming.

He had said that exact word in her previous life too. On their wedding night, he had lifted her red veil, looked at her trembling with nerves, and said the same thing—"You are so charming, Lira."

Back then, she had thought it was love.

Now she knew it was nothing more than a hunter's assessment of his prey. Charming meant "easy to subdue." It meant "won't resist." It meant "simple to deceive."

The sound of rapid hoofbeats echoed across the grounds. Liora and Theodore galloped back side by side, both grinning from ear to ear with exhilaration. Liora reined in first. Her horse whinnied loudly, rearing up on its hind legs, then came down solidly on all fours.

"I won," Liora announced triumphantly. Her hair had come undone, a few strands of golden hair sticking to her damp cheeks, making her glow like the midday sun.

"You cheated," Theodore dismounted, feigning indignation. "You cut the corner."

"Racing is all about finding the fastest route. How is that cheating?"

They bickered playfully, like old friends who'd known each other for years. Kael watched them, his gaze lingering on Liora for a long moment before shifting to Lira.

Lira was fidgeting nervously with the reins, looking as if she was too terrified to move. Seeing this, Kael stepped forward to steady her stirrup, his voice soft and reassuring. "There's nothing to fear. This horse is perfectly docile."

"Thank you, my lord," Lira said in a voice that was barely a whisper, like a wisp of smoke.

Liora's gaze suddenly snapped over to them, flicking between Kael and Lira. The smile on her face didn't falter, but there was a flicker of—Lira saw it plain as day—wariness in her eyes.

It was gone in an instant, but she had seen it.

She knew her sister too well. Liora never let anyone lay a finger on what was hers. In her previous life, she had clung to Theodore for two years, driving away any woman who dared come near him. In this life, she had set her sights on Kael, and naturally, she wouldn't let anyone take him from her.

Not even her own sister.

Lira lowered her eyes, burying all her emotions deep beneath her calm exterior. The sound of hoofbeats still echoed in her ears. The sun warmed her skin, and the spring breeze carried the scent of blooming roses from the gardens. Everything was perfect, so peaceful.

Only she knew that a storm was brewing on the horizon.