A Wild Stallion

"The one who starts first, doesn't win. But the one who ends it first, wins." Affirming this into her deep soul, Ilene crossed the finish line successfully.

A fresh wave of pride heaved her chest, whipping out all of her worry and stress. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, feeling the calm within herself.

Yes, this was the feeling she wanted to feel for so long. A sense of triumph.

A gust of chilly air greeted her. Her two face-framing silver hair tendrils were twirling in the breeze. The fringes of hair stuck to her forehead.

Rare Purple eyes. Glossy porcelain skin. Silver hair. These striking features complimented her swan figure, covered with redingote worn over a long black skirt.

Ilene inhaled a deep breath, opening her eyes accompanied by her long fluttering lashes. Those beautiful purple irises glistened with delight and gratification.

Boisterous chatters had echoed all over the arena, which prompted more disappointment and dismay than it should've been.

The same arena where Ilene was with her horse, Damien.

These people must be disappointed knowing that a woman won the horseback riding tournament, this year.

Her victory is a direct rebuke to those conceited, pompous men who believed women are somehow inferior to men. Her triumph demonstrated that women exhibit the ultimate braveness, which society has traditionally reserved for men only.

"Ladies & Gentlemen! Lady Ilene Valkyrie is the champion of this year's horseback riding tournament. Let's celebrate her victory with a round of applause." the speaker announced with much enthusiasm and excitement.

The announcement brought Ilene's drifting thoughts back into reality.

She scanned her surrounding, her gaze traveling over a figure in the centre of the stage who was residing regally in one of the places set out for him. She broke into a respondent smile seeing him.

The young man's eyes greeted that of Ilene's with a warm invisible gesture. With a far more refined & compassionate smile, he returned hers.

The outfit he wore and the appearance he bore, they all screamed royalty. He was the youngest prince of Valkyrie Empire, Theron Ravenswood.

The arena was composed of a sizable, circular open area that was encircled on all sides by spectator seating that was arranged in tiers.

There was a central stage, higher in place amidst the seating, only designated for royalty.

This tournament organized by His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Rowan Ravenshood, has always been the buzz of the Valkyrie capital.

Every year, a total of twenty participants with their horses participated and the rewards varied each year. This year, the dynamic of tournament was turned upside down.

A woman competed along with the nineteen male competitors and she even won the tournament. Ilene truly made a history.

Ilene was always certain that she would emerge as a winner. As much brazen and rebellious she is, nobody and not a single rule can stop her from doing what she truly wants. Not even her mother.

Within an hour, everyone had left the arena for their dear homes. Ilene received praise from some, while others felt she wasn't deserving. But, her victory was all that mattered.

Prince Theron joined her. On the other hand, Ilene was picking Damien's hooves and currieng his chestnut flanks after she dismounted from the horse.

"Ahm, congratulations, lady." Theron cleared his throat, trying to initiate a conversation.

"Your Highness, I sincerely appreciate it." Ilene answered with a curtsy bow.

Then she lifted her head, and bursted into a laugh.

"Stop teasing me."

"And what about you making fun of me?" Theron made a face not surprised by her imperative tone.

Why would he be? After all, they are childhood sweethearts. No amount of stratification can bar their friendship.

"I knew you would land as a winner. So, how it feels to live your dreams?" Theron held an invisible microphone to her face.

"Amazing. Surreal. Thrilling. Everything, I can't describe in my words."

"How cute!" Theron pressed a palm to his heart, batting his lashes at her.

Ilene threw a punch at his ribs. Theron laughed as he rubbed his chest.

"There are so many horses around the royal stable, yet you chose Damien for your tournament?" He questioned as they strolled around.

"Horses only see how much braveness is in the hands of those who ride them. In this matter, Damien knows me the best. He has been my best buddy growing up along with me. When I found him, I knew he would be my companion in my every ride." She responded, leading Damien by the leather reins.

Not surprised by her response, Theron looped his arm through hers, "Nice. If that's the case, will you be my companion and walk along with me in my every battle?" Theron stretched out his next hand to her.

Ilene scrunched her nose, pulling her arm off his. "Will you please already stop?"

Not that she won't be his companion, but Ilene finds this kind of behavior cringey in all men.

"Seems like you are really a wild stallion. Relentless." He used his finger to prick Ilene's crinkled nose.

"And this wild stallion is your best friend." She nudged him in the ribs. His words somehow managed to pull out a laugh from her.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Theron narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

"If by love, you mean hate then I already know." Ilene looked up at him, goading him with her smile.

"You are a red flag. A huge red flag that walks, talks and eats my brain." He rolled his eyes, ignoring her.

Ilene winked at him, "And I am waving this red flag, louder and prouder."

Being the youngest prince of Valkyrie Empire, Theron was also a fairly handsome man with polite manners, which had attracted enough affection from the women in this capital. He was Ilene's best friend, her ride or die.

They were already halfway to the exit before someone obstructed their way.

"Your Highness." A smooth voice interrupted them.

Theron stifled a groan. "Duke Stevan."

The Duke of Valkyrie Capital, Stevan Guinevere stared down his nose at Ilene. He was a tall, thin, spindly man with graying hair slicked back and black wide eyes as inky pools. Evilness and wary somewhere glinting there, but hidden with an amity. And his left brow marred by a tiny scar.

"His Highness Crown Prince is looking for you." The Duke stated as elegantly as he could, his voice gentle. "Oh, you are here with Lady Ilene." He shifted his penetrating dark eyes on her.

And Ilene certainly caught the undertone of his mockery.

"I hope you enjoyed the tournament, lady. And congratulations on your win." A courteous smile etched on his lips.

"Well, Thank you Duke." Ilene responded coolly. If he wanted to, he wouldn't even bat an eye on her, let alone congratulate her. But, considering the powerful family Ilene belonged to, he can't help but put up a pretense.

"You two seem to get along with each other. Keep conversing." Theron said before bowing and picking up her hand. "I will see you tonight at the banquet." He then kissed the back of her hand, and Ilene nodded her head in response.

"Yes, Your Highness." Stevan posed a bow, dipping his head before Theron spun on his heel and departed.

With the rise of his head, the before compassionate eyes turned into the eyes of a hawk: cold, sharp and predatory. The then hidden malevolence clearly flickering in those gazes.

"How is Lady Iris doing? I believe you have made her the proudest mother." He smoothed his cravat tie. "See, you are a lovely young woman, but you are not suitable for these manly hobbies." His words stung her, but she didn't allow him to upend the land beneath her.

He was among those men who didn't prefer Ilene or any other woman on the front foot.

In a society they lived, women were expected to maintain the etiquettes, and engage in ladylike pursuits such as sewing, painting, dancing, writing, reading and the list goes on.

Ilene Valkyrie, however, was an exception. She is eager to forge her own identity and carve her fate.

Her mind swirled with a dozen different responses, but the one that came out wasn't the one she had intended to say at all.

"I see the crease on your forehead has deepened. Is it a result of putting your nose in everyone's business?"

His jaw twitched as a response. His face hot and blotchy from embarrassment, but he pushed past it before scrutinizing her from head to toe. "Your delicate hands, petite figure can't compare to the strength a man has."

"And these delicate hands did what was needed to be done. They ensured victory."

"Consider this your first and last win, Lady." He wore a small devilish smile, gritting his teeth.

"Time will say so, Sir." An acerbic smirk flashed across her lips. His face darkened at her with the way she grinned a polite smile.

Ilene wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he had gotten under her skin. "Now, if you excuse me, I shall take my leave."

An awkward spooky silence fell before Ilene took her departure, leading Damien with the reins and left Duke Stevan standing in the entrance, with his hands balled into fists and jaws clenched.

Note:

This is a historical-fantasy-romance fiction book.