Embers

Preface

The grand, storied halls of Henfordshire Palace could never fully conceal the scars of the royal family’s past, there had been countless across the many centuries of its existence, but some were more recent. At its center currently was Vivienne Grace Cromwell, the third child of Queen Aria Grace and—though few knew the truth—not the biological daughter of King Maximilian Cromwell. Vivienne’s very existence was a testament to love, resilience, and the hard-fought reconciliation of a once fractured family.

Years ago, an unthinkable betrayal nearly destroyed the Cromwell dynasty. Aria Grace, beloved queen consort and mother, was assaulted by Maximilian’s younger brother Leopold–since passed—a man consumed by bitterness, alcoholism and envy. The heinous act shattered the family, but what broke Aria Grace’s heart even more was Maximilian’s first instinct: to sweep the crime under the rug to preserve the Cromwell name. It was a reflex deeply ingrained in generations of royal tradition, but to Aria Grace, it was an unforgivable betrayal.

Shattered inside, she left him that very day, him and their two children, who had a better life at the palace, for now, as she sought solace and healing with her parents. Maximilian was devastated. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and he knew almost immediately that his reaction had been wrong. He tried to apologize, to mend what he had broken, but Aria Grace had reached her limit and lost all her faith in him. Their marriage ended in divorce—a quiet yet seismic event that reverberated through the kingdom.

During her time away, Aria Grace found refuge far from the palace, in the pastoral serenity of an upscale seaside town called Brindleton Bay. Her love for horses led her to look into purchasing one, which ultimately carried her across the country to Chestnut Ridge. Nestled in a rugged landscape of rolling hills and endless prairies, Chestnut Ridge exuded a timeless charm, with its wide-open skies and the warm, earthy scent of hay and leather. It was there, amidst the unspoiled beauty of this frontier, that she met Jack Kershaw—a horse rancher with weathered hands, a steadfast gaze, and a quiet strength that spoke volumes without words. Jack was everything the palace was not—rugged, unpretentious, and deeply rooted in the land he loved. His shaggy, sun-kissed hair brushed against the brim of a weathered cowboy hat, and his brilliant blue eyes sparkled with warmth and sincerity. His well-worn jeans and boots spoke of a life spent working hard, and his presence exuded a quiet strength.

Jack was a balm to Aria Grace’s wounded spirit. Their connection was effortless and immediate, built on shared humanity rather than status or obligation. For the first time in years, she felt free to simply be herself—just Aria Grace, AG. Not the Queen of Henfordshire, not the daughter of someone famous, just her. To protect that freedom, she hid her true identity from Jack and embraced the adventure with open arms. Their love, though fleeting as they were just too opposite to be able to make it work, left an indelible mark: Vivienne.

Before Vivienne was even born, Maximilian had never wavered in his pursuit of Aria Grace. His love for her remained steadfast, and he worked tirelessly to prove he had transformed. Facing the weight of his past failures, he resolved to become the man she deserved. Slowly but surely, Aria Grace began to trust the sincerity of his efforts. Despite the scars of their history, she realized her love for him had never truly vanished. Their reconciliation was far from a fairy tale—it was a hard-won triumph of forgiveness, growth, and renewed commitment.

When Aria Grace returned to Henfordshire, newly remarried to Maximilian, it was only a few more weeks until she brought Vivienne into their shared life. Maximilian embraced the little girl without hesitation, his deep hazel-blue eyes—often likened by Aria Grace to the vast ocean—brimming with boundless affection for her. Vivienne, with her mother’s soft green eyes and warm brunette hair, was a reflection of Aria Grace in her youth. Maximilian cherished her unreservedly, well aware he wasn’t her biological father, but her father in every way that counts, and Vivienne, in turn, adored him.

Barely two years after Vivienne’s birth, the king and queen welcomed their third child together and Aria Grace’s fourth: a daughter named Veronica. A love child in every sense, Veronica symbolized their reconciliation and renewed bond. With her father’s light blonde hair and hazel-blue eyes, Veronica was unmistakably Maximilian’s child, a striking reminder of the love and commitment that had brought their family full circle.

Jack, however, was not forgotten. In an extraordinary display of grace, Maximilian extended an invitation to Jack to come to Henfordshire and remain in Vivienne’s life. Though wary of the palace and all it represented, Jack agreed. His love for his daughter outweighed his misgivings, and he ventured into unfamiliar territory for her sake. The dynamic between the two men, so diametrically opposed in background and temperament, was as complex as it was surprising. Over time, a shared love for Vivienne forged an unlikely bond, transforming them from rivals to reluctant allies. Together, they became pillars of an unconventional but deeply devoted family.

For years, Jack lived near the palace, co-parenting Vivienne alongside Aria Grace and Maximilian. Their collaborative effort created a nurturing environment, but Jack’s heart never fully left the rugged frontier of Chestnut Ridge. Eventually, the call of open skies and unbridled freedom proved irresistible. He returned to his ranch with his young wife—a spirited woman with fiery red hair, a matching temper, and a voice as distinctive as her presence—and their teenage son. Though the farewell was bittersweet, Jack left Vivienne in the capable and loving hands of the Cromwells, knowing she would always be cherished.

Vivienne’s childhood, though unconventional, was one of love and care. King Maximilian always made her feel like his cherished daughter. He adored her just as much as her siblings, Crown Prince William, Princess Victoria and the youngest daughter Princess Veronica, and never once let her feel the shadow of her biological origins. Jack Kershaw, her biological father, remained a steadfast presence in her life, a constant reminder of her roots in Chestnut Ridge.

However, as Vivienne grew into a young woman, her idyllic and deliberately sheltered world began to shift. At sixteen, she was presented to Henfordshire society as a debutante. Draped in shimmering silks and adorned with jewels, she looked every bit the part of royal perfection, her light green eyes and warm brunette hair a reflection of her mother’s beauty. Yet, despite her grace and charm, the whispers in the ballroom were impossible to ignore.

The old aristocracy, steeped in tradition and pride, saw her as an outsider. Though King Maximilian’s love for her shielded her from outright criticism, the truth of her parentage was no secret among the blue-blooded elite. Their sons bowed politely and danced with her out of obligation, but when it came to courtship, they turned away. The words “bastard child” were never spoken aloud, yet they hung heavy in the air like a dark whisper.

Vivienne’s confidence began to falter as she grappled with her identity—neither fully royal nor truly common. Seeking solace, she turned to the artistic legacy of her family. Her mother, Queen Aria Grace, had grown up as Del Sol Valley “royalty” in the limelight, a musical prodigy herself, not to mention the daughter of pop icon ViVa, whose music and performances had captured the hearts of millions. That world of creative freedom and expression seemed like a liberating contrast to the rigid expectations of court life. Inspired by tales of her Hollywood-royalty grandparents, now retired in Del Sol Valley, and her mother’s vibrant past, as well as many other relatives on her mother’s side with careers in show business, Vivienne began to imagine a different future for herself.

At seventeen, a dream took shape: upon graduation, she would move to Del Sol Valley to live with her grandparents and study drama at a local academy, while pursuing a career in acting. For the first time, she felt a spark of purpose. But her parents were far from supportive. Queen Aria Grace, who knew all too well the pressures and pitfalls of fame, feared for Vivienne’s well-being. King Maximilian, protective and pragmatic, was deeply concerned about her leaving the safety of the palace for an uncertain and unforgiving world.

Despite their concerns, Vivienne was resolute. On her eighteenth birthday, emboldened by her newfound independence, she declared her intention to leave Henfordshire. The announcement ignited a storm of emotion, particularly from Maximilian. He insisted she stay, forbidding her from leaving the kingdom. The argument that followed was fierce, but the breaking point came when Vivienne screamed words she would soon regret: “You’re not my real dad!”

The room fell silent, the weight of her declaration hanging heavy in the air. Maximilian’s calm exterior betrayed none of the pain Vivienne knew she had caused, but the devastation in his eyes was unmistakable. In that moment, she realized the depth of his love for her—but her determination outweighed her guilt.

Determined to prove herself, Vivienne left Henfordshire on a bitter note, bound for the glittering promises of Del Sol Valley. However, the reality of the city of dreams was far harsher than she’d envisioned. Amid a sea of aspiring actors, her noble lineage mattered little. Casting calls were brutal, and critiques stung deeply. One director’s dismissive comment—“Devoid of any shred of talent-pretty enough, but you’re just nothing special. You don’t belong in movies”—echoed in her mind long after.

Her struggles were compounded by personal betrayal. Nineteen now, seeking comfort after a particularly crushing rejection, she arrived unannounced at her boyfriend’s apartment, hoping for reassurance. Instead, she walked into heartbreak: her boyfriend in the arms of another girl, both unclothed, their betrayal painfully clear. Frozen by shock, she left before they noticed her, retreating in silence as her world crumbled. When his texts and calls became relentless, she first ghosted him, then broke up with him. Over text. She just didn’t want to see him again. 

Shattered, Vivienne sought refuge in the only other place she knew—Chestnut Ridge. She hoped her biological father, Jack Kershaw, would provide the sanctuary her soul craved. But life on the ranch was far from the escape she had imagined. Jack, though kind and very welcoming and accommodating, was preoccupied with the demands of ranch life and his bustling household. His humble cabin, shared with his wife and teenage son, was already full.

Vivienne quickly realized that her polished knowledge of royal stables offered little preparation for the gritty reality of ranch life. The relentless work and rustic accommodations left her feeling out of place, and a series of embarrassing missteps deepened her frustration. Overwhelmed by the harshness of this new world, she climbed a hill to find cellphone service. When her mother didn’t answer, probably preoccupied with her other duties, she made the call she had resisted for so long—to the man she had once called “Papa,” King Maximilian.

Her stepfather’s calm, steady voice reached through the chaos of her emotions. He listened as she sobbed, never interrupting, never judging. When she finally quieted, he spoke with the same gentle authority he always used when guiding his children. “We’ll bring you home, darling,” he assured her. He immediately arranged for her to wait in comfort at a nearby luxury hotel until the royal jet arrived to take her back to Henfordshire.

When Vivienne returned to the palace, Maximilian was waiting for her, his arms open wide. She ran to him, tears streaming down her face, and he held her tightly, whispering words of comfort and love. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“Thank you! Oh my God I missed you so! Thank you for letting me come back, after all I put you through.”

“Of course you come back home. You’ll always have a place here,” he told her. “This is your home, Vivienne. And I will always be your Papa, no matter what you say. Never doubt that.”

Through her tears, Vivienne looked up at him and spoke the words she had held back for so long. “I’m sorry for everything I said, I swear I didn’t really mean it. You’re more my father than any other man ever could be.” Her voice trembled with emotion, but her eyes shone with sincerity. Maximilian’s embrace tightened, and in that moment, the bond between them felt unbreakable. “I know you didn’t mean it, and I love you too, sweetheart. Always have, always will. Just as you are my child, always have been, always will be my child.” 

The days that followed Vivienne’s return to Henfordshire were marked by quiet reflection. She spent her mornings wandering the palace grounds, her light green eyes tracing the familiar paths where she had once played as a child. She had long talks with her mother, and sought solace with her favorite pastime: horseback riding in the beautiful rolling hills of Henfordshire, the place of her birth, her home.

The world beyond the palace gates had felt cold and unwelcoming. But here, with the steady presence of her family, she began to feel the faint stirrings of belonging again.

Cromwell Palace, Henfordshire
Moving on

The royal house of Cromwell had long been synonymous with equestrian excellence. For centuries, their stables had bred stellar and coveted horses, the Cromwellers, prized by upper class and noble houses alike. The stewardship of this legacy was a matter of pride, traditionally overseen by the king and the Crown Prince themselves. Riding was more than a pastime for the Cromwells—it was a tradition that bonded the family through generations, and all its members were avid equestrians.

One evening, Vivienne found herself standing in King Maximilian’s study. The room, with its rich mahogany furniture and walls lined with timeworn books, exuded the quiet authority and comfort she associated with her stepfather. It was a place of safety, a refuge from the storm of her emotions. Maximilian sat at his desk, typing on his laptop under the soft glow of a brass lamp. He looked up as she hesitated in the doorway.

“Papa,” she began softly, the word trembling with emotion. It was a name she hadn’t barely dared to use since their fight, and saying it now felt like both an apology and a plea.

Maximilian’s eyes softened. He set his pen down and gestured for her to sit beside him. “What’s on your mind, darling? Come in, come in, have a seat.”

She sank into the chair opposite him, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “I feel so lost,” she admitted, her voice faltering. “I don’t know where I fit. I’ll never be like Victoria and Will, married into aristocracy, with a clear path ahead, and even Vero now—not even 17 yet and already not a day passes without a marriage proposal fluttering into the palace for her from aristocrats of all levels. I’m two years older, and nobody wants me. I’m either too royal or not royal enough. I can’t be a commoner; I can’t be a royal. I tried acting, but I wasn’t good enough. I have no talents. I missed the university deadlines, and none of their classes interest me anyway. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is…” She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know, Papa. Maybe horses. At least, I thought so. But at Dad’s horse ranch, where you’d think I’d excel, I downright failed at literally everything. I was just in the way everywhere; I didn’t belong at all. I am useless, Papa.”

The words tumbled out of her, raw and unvarnished, and hung in the heavy silence that followed. Maximilian’s piercing hazel-blue eyes softened as he watched her. He rose from his chair and moved around the desk to crouch in front of her, his hands gently settling over hers to still their restless motion.

“Vivienne,” he said quietly, his voice calm but resolute. “Look at me.” She hesitated before meeting his gaze, her tearful green eyes shimmering with vulnerability.

“You are not useless,” he said firmly. “You have a path, just haven’t found it yet. Let’s see, you’ve always had a way with horses—a connection that goes beyond training. Your father’s horseranch is not the same as our Cromwell Stables, Jack and I well established that when he came to live here after you were born. He had a lot to learn, just like we all do. But you are a natural with equines, it’s a gift, one that no amount of failure or insecurity can take away, and no amount of training can instill. And right now, it’s a gift we need. Your gift is what the House of Cromwell needs. The only question is, are you ready yet?”

He paused, letting his words sink in, before continuing. “Our stablemaster, Roland Hawthorne, has been struggling with his health, arthritis, rheumatism, and what not. He’s served our family faithfully for decades, but the time has come for someone new to take on his responsibilities. We are shuffling those responsibilities around existing staff, and Liam has kindly stepped in to help out, but we could really use a new horse trainer, someone to work with them right away before we get too far behind. When I think of who might carry on this vital part of our family’s legacy, the list of potential candidates I would even remotely consider for such a vital task is notably short, and instantly, your name comes to mind.”

“Me?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Maximilian gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Yes, you. This isn’t just a job—it’s a calling. You have the passion, the understanding, and the heart for it and all my faith and trust. I believe it could bring you the sense of purpose you’ve been searching for. It is a very important task.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, they weren’t born of despair. “But what if I fail you too, Papa?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Maximilian rose to his feet and gently pulled her up with him. Without a word, he led her to the couch by the window and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You won’t fail. You can’t fail. If you stumble, we’ll be here to help you back up,” he reassured her. “Roland will guide you, and you’ll have everything you need to succeed. The rest is up to you. But I believe in you, Vivienne. More than you can imagine. I am not tasking you with busy work, I truly believe this could be what you have been seeking for.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his words and embrace steady her. “Thank you, Papa,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“You’ve always had a home here,” Maximilian murmured softly. “This is where you belong, Henfordshire and more specifically, Cromwell Palace. Never forget that, my sweet and precious little daughter. But I do think you should consider living on site at the stables, in one of the vacant apartments. They are humble but lack no creature comforts and I am sure your mother, Mina and Veronica would LOVE to help you decorate it to your liking. At least at the beginning I think it may help you to live on site. If you don’t like it there or get lonely, come home, we are just a short walk or a phone call away. But I heard you, you want independence, and you need your independence, you are a brilliant young woman now, and this is that with a security net.”

When Vivienne left the study that evening, she felt lighter than she had in months. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had a direction—and the belief that she might finally find her place.

Royal Cromwell Stables
About a week later

The stables were bathed in the soft light of dusk, the scent of hay and leather lingering in the cool air. Vivienne brushed down one of the stallions, her movements steady, as Liam entered, leaning casually against the door. His presence seemed to shift the air around her, though she quickly turned her focus back to the horse.

“You’re still at it?” he asked, his voice warm but teasing.

“The horses don’t brush themselves,” she replied with a small smile, brushing a strand of brunette hair from her face. She could feel his gaze linger a moment longer than necessary, and it sent an unbidden warmth creeping up her neck.

Liam stepped closer, resting his arms on the stall door. “You’ve impressed Roland,” he said, his tone softer now. “And that’s not easy to do. I’ll admit I am impressed to. You are good at this, and you are not afraid to get dirty.”

Vivienne paused, the brush still in her hand. “It’s the first thing I’ve felt I might actually be good at,” she admitted softly. “Out here, it’s just simpler. Everything is just simpler.”

Liam nodded, his hand now scratching the stallion’s neck, who visibly enjoyed it, while Liam’s green eyes were set intent on Vivienne’s, as if searching for something deeper in her words. “I get that. I grew up here—born just a few stalls down, actually. My dad, Roland, made this my whole world. Cleaning stalls, feeding horses, fixing tack—it’s in my blood. That’s why I was always here so much, even before I officially started helping out again. This is home to me.”

She looked at him, surprised by his candor and struck by the quiet vulnerability that surfaced in his voice. “So why did you leave it?”

Liam hesitated, his hand brushing the stallion’s neck, the gesture slow and thoughtful. “Because Kensington dragged me into his world when I was seventeen. Your father, well, the king found proof I was Kensington’s heir, he pushed for him to do the right thing, or so His Majesty thought. My dad wanted it for me, he pushed me, because of the opportunities he couldn’t give me, but Kensington could. I just was railroaded by it all, the man who was my dad suddenly wasn’t, I couldn’t even see beyond my own shock, how much this must have hurt dad, to find out seventeen years in that the kid you have been raising, sacrificing for, called your son, wasn’t even yours. So, I played the part—for him.”

“And you regret it?” Vivienne asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Every day,” he admitted, his words low, as though they carried a weight he seldom shared. He turned his gaze back to her, his intensity unmistakable. “I miss this. It’s who I am.” After a beat, he added, “It’s hard work, long hours, no weekends, but it’s honest and straight forward. No offense, but nothing among the aristocracy is what it seems like, everything is make believe, pretense, and nonsensical rules and outdated traditions. THAT is not who I am. THIS is who I am. And I think it’s who you are, too. I know you grew up at the palace among all the pretense and silly traditons, but still, you have never been like your siblings. You were always sneaking out to ride horses, skipping classes to ride horses, and playing in the streams and mud puddles.”

Her breath caught at the way he said it, something unspoken lingering between them. “I’ve luckily outgrown the mud puddles, but the rest is still kind of true. I have never been sure of who I am. You are right, I never really fit in with my siblings, not for lack of trying on their or my part. I know they love me and I them, but they are just … different. Or I am,” she said, her voice faltering. “Either way, you’re right, this… this feels right. For the first time in forever.”

“Then maybe you’ve found your answer. Maybe we both did,” Liam said, his voice steady, yet tinged with something that made her heart skip. “It’s not about who others expect you to be. It’s about what makes you feel at home.” Liam cleared his throat. “By the way, not sure if anyone brought that up, but dad and I were talking and we both agree, you’d make an excellent competitive rider. Just something to think about. That could easily be combined with your duties as a horse trainer. And you don’t have to rub down the horses, that’s what the stable crew is here for.”

Vivienne blinked, caught off guard. “I know, I find it oddly therapeutic to brush and clean them myself. But me? Competitive riding?” She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t even think about that right now. There’s too much I don’t know about this job yet. Can’t start something new again.”

Liam shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “You don’t have to decide now. But just so you know, it’s not a wild idea. You’ve got the talent for it.”

Moments passed, they now brushed the horse down together, Vivienne broke the silence. “By the way, Liam. I do get why you don’t want your title. I’ve been toying with the idea of speaking to Papa about removing mine for a while now, still am, actually. I already would have, if I didn’t think he would take offense. Last thing I wanna do is hurt him. My Papa, like your dad, raised me with so much love, and mine knew from the start I wasn’t even his, and yet I held that against him before I left on my very failed stint to become famous. I will never not feel guilty about that. Really wish I could travel back in time and never say that to him.”

Liam frowned, caught off guard. “Viv, every child has something like that. That’s why we are the kids, we have to learn things, sometimes the hard way. I promise you, you are taking this much harder than he ever did. But your title? Why?”

“It was a sweet gesture by my dad to go against protocol and make me a princess,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Mostly symbolic anyway, but it’s rather pointless. I am not really a princess, I know it, you know it, everyone knows it, that was made very clear to me, that the rest of society is well aware during my very failed debutante ball. If I want to do this, if this is my place, being a princess only hinders me more than it helps. I know Papa loves me, and I know my dad loves me. That’s all I need. I don’t need a title to feel like I belong. Honestly, I don’t belong at all. I belong here, maybe. But who wants a princess horse trainer? That’s just awkward for everyone.”

Her words hung in the air, and when she looked up, she found Liam’s gaze locked on hers. His green eyes were steady, warm, and filled with something that made her chest tighten.

“I get it. When I came back here to help dad after getting the title, the rest of the staff acted very strange and they never went back to the way it was. To them, I was one of the 1%ers now. And Kensington just about had my hide whenever he caught me here. May he rest in peace, and finally I have my peace from him. Beyond me how Claire turned into such a genuinely sweet girl with those parents. She was the only one in that family who had ever been nice and welcoming to me. Without her, I would have not been able to make it this long,” he said softly, his deep green eyes locking on hers.

Vivienne’s breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Liam’s gaze held hers, and the unspoken understanding between them deepened, like a whisper of something yet to bloom. The entire mood changed from friendly to … something else.

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, though his words lingered in her mind longer than she expected. “Goodnight, Liam. I better turn in soon, days here start early as you know … will think about your idea with the competitive riding.”

“You do that. Goodnight, Vivienne,” he murmured, his tone quiet, almost reluctant. Their eyes met for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he turned and walked away.

As his footsteps faded, Vivienne leaned into the stallion’s neck, closing her eyes. She didn’t have all the answers yet, but for the first time, she felt not just a sense of direction—but the faintest flicker of possibility.

Royal Cromwell Stables
The Next Morning

The morning light streamed into the stables, casting golden beams over the rows of neatly groomed horses. Vivienne stood with Roland Hawthorne, listening intently as he demonstrated a new method for calming a nervous mare. His weathered hands moved with practiced ease, the years of experience evident in every gesture.

“You’ve got a good touch,” Roland said with a gruff smile, nodding at her attempt to mimic his technique. “Better than most who’ve started where you are.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hawthorne,” Vivienne said, her tone earnest. Before she could say more, she noticed Liam approaching, his strides confident but unhurried.

“Liam!” Roland called out, motioning him over. “Come here son, lend a hand will ya. I’ll be back in a bit—I think I left my coffee in the tack room.”

Liam shot him a curious look, but Roland’s knowing smile and raised brow told him all he needed to know. With a slight shake of his head, Liam stepped forward as Roland disappeared, leaving the two of them alone.

Vivienne glanced at Liam, a spark of nervous energy flaring in her chest. “So… I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About competitive riding.”

“And?” he asked, leaning against the stall door, his green eyes alight with curiosity.

“Maybe you’re right,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I think I’d love that. It could be a way to make a name for myself, to really do something I’m proud of and something all my family could be proud of. But how?”

“I know how,” Liam said with an easy confidence that sent a thrill through her. “My dad and I have helped train riders before. I can be your trainer. We just have to figure out what you’re good at. Show jumping, racing, dressage, maybe even eventing,” Liam suggested, his voice steady and encouraging. “There’s no shortage of options. Once we know your strength, we can build a plan to make you stand out. Trust me, you’ve got what it takes. My first instinct for you is dressage, maybe show jumping.”

“I love it! I’d like to try both! Alright, you’re hired! When do we start?” she held out her hand, which Liam took with a smirk, shaking it. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Okay, I’ll shuffle the tasks around. I am excited.”

“Me too. I think it will be kinda cool.”

Their hands remained clasped, and the moment between them stretched a beat too long, their shared excitement and unspoken connection thickening the air around them.

The sound of footsteps and the distinct aroma of freshly brewed coffee made them snap apart as Roland entered the barn, his sharp eyes instantly taking in the scene. His brow quirked slightly as his gaze moved between the two of them, lingering on their flushed faces.

“Am I interrupting something? What are you kids plotting now?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement as he lifted his coffee mug.

Liam cleared his throat, standing a bit taller. “Dad, I’ll be training Viv in dressage and show jumping. We’re starting tomorrow morning.”

Roland studied them for a moment, then gave a slow nod, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Dressage and show jumping? Well, ambitious, but I think you can handle it, and I’d say she’s in good hands with you, son… assuming you both manage to stay on task. Dressage isn’t as easy as it looks, and show jumping is not easy either. You’ll both have your hands plenty full.” He took a sip of his coffee, the amusement in his tone unmistakable. 

Cromwell Palace, the royal study
Liam’s Choice

The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of King Maximilian’s study, glinting off the polished edges of his desk. Liam stood in the room’s center, his hands clasped tightly behind him, every muscle in his body tense with purpose.

“Your Majesty, I’ve made my decision,” he said, his green eyes unwavering as he met the king’s steady gaze. “I want to thank you for all you have done for me, but I’m stepping down as Lord Kensington. The estate, the titles—they don’t belong to me. They never did. I am going to assume my old last name again. Hawthorne. I spoke to my dad and he is fully on board. And I would like my job back at the stables, if you will have me. I know I am not my dad, but he raised me, he taught me everything I know, and he was your stable hand for most of my life so at the very least I could help tide you over until you hire someone to your liking.”

Maximilian leaned back in his chair, his hazel-blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Liam, I am not sure I am understanding you correctly. I know the title of Earl of Kensington has been in limbo ever since George and Beth passed. You’ve kept the courtesy title of Lord Kensington out of duty, but wouldn’t assume the title of Earl. Are you saying you wish to relinquish everything—Kensington Manor, the earldom itself? Fully? To be a stablemaster? I am starting to wonder if I am overpaying my stable staff. This sounds … dubious. Are you certain about this, my boy?”

“Yes,” Liam said firmly. “I’ve thought a lot about it, Your Majesty. The Kensington’s legacy belongs with Claire. She’s the legitimate heir, and more importantly, she’s the one who truly loves and understands that estate. It’s hers by right, and I’m ready to make it official. She is and always has been the real Kensington heir, I am just a …. fraud. An afterthought.”

The king rose from his chair, his tall, slender frame casting a long shadow across the room. He studied Liam for a moment, his expression unreadable. “May I inquire as to what brought you to this decision?”

Liam hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Someone held up a proverbial mirror to me, reminding me why I have been nothing but miserable for years. Truth is that I was born and raised in the stables and that I am happiest there. That’s my world. Horses, hard work, the smell of hay and leather—that’s where I belong. The Kensington legacy is foreign to me, still, was thrust upon me when I was seventeen, a dumb kid, and I accepted it because it was what was expected. But I’ve never felt like it was mine. Giving this to Claire feels… like righting a wrong.”

Maximilian’s expression softened, and he clasped a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “It takes strength to admit when something doesn’t fit. And it takes even more strength to let it go, especially something of this magnitude. If this is truly your wish, I’ll support you. I will have my staff make all the necessary arrangements. And I would be honored to have you take over your father’s job as my stablemaster. If you truly want that, it’s yours, Liam. I can’t think of anyone I’d trust with this task more than you, Mr. Hawthorne.” King Maximilian using his old last name, made Liam smile, as did the hand the king held out for him to shake.

Kensington Manor, Liam’s current home
Conversations with his halfsister and brother-in-law

That afternoon at Kensington Manor, the estate’s grandeur was bathed in the warm glow of the late-day sun. Liam led Jake and Claire into the sitting room, its familiar elegance stirring quiet memories within her. Lady Claire’s soft blonde hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, a delicate reflection of her composed demeanor. Her kind green eyes, wide with curiosity, drifted over the room she had known so well in her childhood, a warmth in her gaze softening even the ornate edges of the manor.

Beside her, Lord Jake Cameron stood tall and steady, his light green eyes calm yet perceptive. The rays of afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, catching in his chestnut hair and casting a soft, golden hue.

“Liam,” Claire began, her voice a quiet melody of concern and grace. “What is all this? You’ve had us worried, asking us here with so little explanation. Is everything all right? You look… troubled.”

“I’m fine, thank you, Claire,” Liam replied simply. “I wanted to tell you in person that I am renouncing my title. And everything that comes with it—the estate, the earldom, the Kensington name. It’s all yours, Claire. Your parents’ official titles of Earl and Duchess will transfer to you and Jake, along with this estate. All you have to do is accept and sign some documents. I’ve already spoken to the king.”

Her lips parted in astonishment as her gaze flickered to Jake. Their eyes met, sharing a moment of unspoken bewilderment. Jake’s hand moved instinctively to her shoulder, a gentle squeeze grounding, calming.

Claire eased back against the sofa cushions, her fingers brushing over Jake’s as she tried to steady herself. “Are you…sure?” she asked softly, her words laced with disbelief, her kind green eyes wide and searching.

“I’ve never been surer,” Liam said. “You’re the rightful heir, Claire. You’re the legitimate child of George and Beth, you have always been Lady Kensington, even if you have a different last name now, and you embody what it means to lead and protect the Kensington legacy—a legacy that stretches back centuries as one of the oldest noble families in the kingdom. This estate is your roots, the place you grew up in, where you belong. YOU belong here, you and Jake, not me,” He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I was plucked from the royal stables at seventeen—a stable boy with no plan, no preparation—and tossed into a life that was never meant for me.”

“Your late father, and yes, I know, DNA, but he was YOUR father, he loved you, never me, he only gave me your life because I’m male and he thought I would carry on the Kensington name, and that was wrong. It never sat right with me, Claire, not then, and not now. All that really did was take from you what was rightfully yours. I finally realized it, and I’m finally making it right. I’m returning to my roots, to the stables where I belong, as a Hawthorne once again. The king has graciously reinstated me in my old position, or rather my dad’s, meaning Roland Hawthorne, since he must step down due to his health. I’ll take over his duties and help train Vivienne as she takes on her new role. It’s what I want. What I need.”

Claire’s lips parted, and her green eyes shone with emotion. “But Liam… you’ve been Lord Kensington for years now. Are you sure about this? And to work at the stables again? No offense, but that sounds … crazy.”

“I am sure,” he said firmly. “Look, you said it yourself, I have had the name and title for years, it never felt right, and I realized now, it never will, it only ever made me feel like an imposter. You’re the one who should have it. You are the rightful Kensington heir. I will change my name back to Hawthorne and Kensington will be all yours. This estate, these lands, the responsibilities—they belong to you, Claire, you and Jake and to the children you will have one day. I was only 17 when I got dragged into all this, I didn’t know any better, or I would have declined it then, as I should have.”

Jake placed a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder, his calm demeanor steadying the emotion swirling in the room. “If this is what you truly want, Liam, we’ll do everything we can to honor the legacy. You will, of course, keep part of the estate. At least monetary. There is no reason for you to give up everything.”

Liam smiled faintly. “You both are good people. That’s why this feels right. You both deserve this so much more than I do. And let’s face it, there will be a baby before too long, let the child be born into their rightful home and its rightful legacy.”

After a moment of quiet, Jake added thoughtfully, “You know, if we’re stepping into the roles of Earl and Countess of Kensington… maybe we should make it more meaningful. Take a page from Liam’s book.”

Claire turned to him, her brow furrowing slightly. “More meaningful? What do you mean?”

“The Kensington name,” Jake said. “Liam is changing his, meaning there are no more Kensingtons left. So I say, if we’re going to take on your family’s inherited titles, it feels right to take on the name as well. It’s part of ensuring the Kensington legacy lives on—not just in titles, but in name too.”

Claire’s eyes widened, her expression softening as tears welled in her eyes. “Jake,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Are you saying you’d give up the Cameron name for this?”

Jake smiled warmly, his hand reaching out to brush hers. “Yes. The Kensington legacy matters, Claire. I know your heritage means a lot to you, it’s a part of who you are, and it deserves to continue. Besides, there are plenty of Camerons in the world, most of which I am probably somehow related to even; the name’s not going anywhere. But the Kensington name is different—it holds history, roots, identity. It would be an honor to carry it forward. Countess Claire Kensington has a certain elegance to it… and I have to say, Earl Jake Kensington doesn’t sound half bad either.”

Claire laughed softly through her tears, her emotions spilling over. “I love being Claire Cameron,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “I love carrying your name, Jake. But I’ll admit Kensington… it’s my roots. It’s my family’s history, and hearing you say this—” Her voice faltered as she reached for him, her tears spilling over. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”

Jake’s thumb brushed away a tear on her cheek, his eyes steady on hers. “It’s settled then,” he said gently. “Besides, I’ve always thought Kensington could use a fresh start—and we’re just the people to give it one.”

Liam stood quietly, watching the exchange with a bittersweet smile. The heaviness that had weighed on his shoulders for years seemed to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of peace and tranquility.

Claire looked back at him, her hands still clasping Jake’s. “Thank you, Liam,” she said earnestly. “For doing this. This is really big of you. It means more than I can put into words. You have no idea. But if you ever need anything, please, don’t hesitate. Whatever it is.”

“Don’t worry about me, I am happy it makes you so happy, but I am mostly doing this for me, I am not really that selfless here, you both are doing me a favor more than anything here. Like Jake said, it feels right. You’re going to do great things with it,” Liam replied. “I know you will. I know we are only half-siblings, but when you two do have a child, I’ll still be the uncle to a Kensington heir. Pretty cool, considering how long the Kensingtons have been around throughout history.”

“Now I’ve gotta ask, Liam,” Jake began, his tone light but his eyes steady. “How does my sister feel about all this? We all know Maeve isn’t exactly the type to fall in love with stable life. Or did you two… you know… should I be concerned?”

Liam’s face turned pale, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I haven’t told her yet,” he admitted quietly, the words heavy on his tongue. “That’s next on my list, once she gets back from her day out with her friends. I know it’s wrong to do it the way I have, but my decision stands, Jake. I need this—for me.” He paused, exhaling slowly, his voice faltering just slightly. “I know she’s not going to take it well. Not at all. And I hate it. But the truth is… I’m going to upset your sister. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t see any other way.”

Jake studied him for a moment, the tension in his brow softening slightly. “I see,” he said quietly. “How about this? Claire, you head home and start getting things ready for what’s coming. I’ll stay behind and talk to Maeve with Liam.”

“That’s kind of you, Jake,” Liam said, shaking his head, “but I think I owe her this conversation one-on-one. She deserves to hear it from me. Thank you, though—for offering and for understanding.”

Jake nodded, but a flicker of warning sparked in his eyes. “Fair enough,” he said. “Just remember, Liam—Maeve isn’t like me. I’m calm. She’s got all the fire. Brace yourself.”

He leaned in, his hand gently cradling her cheek, and for a heartbeat, she let herself believe it was okay. The warmth of his touch, the way his deep green eyes softened when they met hers—it all felt so achingly right. Her breath hitched, and just as his lips hovered close, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around his hand and holding it in place for a moment, as though grounding herself.

For a fleeting second, she wanted to stay there, to let him erase the ache in her heart, but the weight of reality pressed down harder. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as she slowly pulled his hand away from her cheek, still clutching it tightly between her own as she took a step back, creating space between them. Even as she retreated, her grip lingered, a fragile thread between her longing and her restraint.

“Liam,” she began, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she felt, “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I just… can’t. Not now.” She finally let his hand go, the absence of his touch leaving a sharp ache in her chest. “I like you too, but it’s too soon. I’ve just had my heart broken in the worst way. You’ve just had yours broken. Say what you will, you still care about Maeve.”

She blinked back tears, her emotions spilling over. “Both our worlds feel shattered right now, and we’re standing here trying to make sense of the pieces. If we did this—if we gave in to this feeling—it would feel like a rebound. And we both deserve better than that.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he absorbed her words. “You’re right,” he admitted quietly. “But I had to say it anyway. I had to tell you the truth—no more lies, no more pretending. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be. But I’m done with that now. I’m done lying to myself about who I really am.”

Vivienne’s heart ached at the rawness in his voice. She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his arm. “You need to figure things out, Liam. For yourself. This isn’t just about Maeve, or the broken engagement, or the titles and the estates. It’s about you. You deserve to find out who you are—without all of that weighing you down. And without stumbling into the next mess, which is my life. I have the same tasks ahead as you. Maybe we can help each other, but … from a slight distance. As friends. For now.”

Liam’s green eyes glistened, and he nodded slowly, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to crack it. “I know,” he promised, his tone resolute. “Thank you for being so nice about it. I know I’m contradicting myself. I never pursued Victoria, because she was a princess and I just couldn’t handle it. Being with Maeve was wrong, because she was born into a different world. Yet, here I stand pouring my heart out to you, a princess. Ironic, huh? Still, I think everything that happened to each of us had to happen for us to meet, right here, right now.”

Her own tears threatened to spill as she met his gaze, her voice breaking as she spoke. “Well, lucky for you, I am not really a princess, just raised as one. Just ask any son of any aristocrat. I know what you mean. It’s the same for me. You see me, Liam. Not as the king’s assumed daughter, not as some token to get yourself elevated to royal circles—just me, the girl I am beneath and who I want to be. You’ve been trying to help me figure that out, too—to find my path in life, not the one that’s been laid out for me, but the one I choose for myself. And you’re not trying to shove me into some drawers I clearly don’t belong in. That goes a long way with me.”

“And you see me,” he replied softly. “You see the real me. The stableboy. And you are okay with that, instead of trying to push me to be someone I don’t want to be. When I’m with you, it’s the only time I’ve ever feel… seen. And heard. I don’t need time. I know. I am certain already. I was just slow to react until now.”

Her breath hitched, and she blinked back tears. “Maybe you are more resilient than me, but I am not ready to love again. Please know, I’m not rejecting you, Liam. That’s not what this is. Not at all. I like you too, a lot more than I probably should, but my heart is not ready to go all in again. Say what you will about you being ready, I believe otherwise. We’re both still bleeding, and we need time to heal first.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with words left unsaid. He held her gaze for a long moment before finally nodding his features softening with understanding.

“Alright,” he said gently, his voice tinged with bittersweet resignation. “When you are ready to trust a man again, come find me.”

“Well, shouldn’t be too hard, considering we’ll be neighbors now,” Vivienne said with a small, hopeful smile, her tone attempting to lighten the tension.

Liam’s lips curved into a faint smile, a flicker of warmth returning to his green eyes. “Yeah. I have to admit, that part is kinda exciting,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll be just a few steps away, in case you ever need help—opening a jar or killing a spider and such.”

Vivienne chuckled, her smile growing as she tilted her head playfully. “Right. Very good to know. Spider sighting at 2 AM, fetch Liam from next door. Got it,” she teased, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement.

Liam raised a brow, mock exasperation creeping into his expression as he replied, “Well, hang on now, maybe at 2 AM you could put a glass over the spider until it’s closer to at least 5 AM. Mercy me, princess.” His tone carried a dry humor, though his grin betrayed his fondness.

Vivienne laughed, shaking her head. “You got it, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said with a wink, her voice light but tinged with sincerity.

With a final lingering look, he turned and left the tack room, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor. Vivienne stayed behind, leaning back against the wall as her composure finally crumbled. Tears streamed down her face as she slid down to sit on the floor, cradling her knees to her chest. She knew she’d done the right thing, but the ache in her heart told her it was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.

Cromwell stables
A few days later

The stableyard was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves on the cool night breeze. Vivienne gave up on sleep, tossing her blanket aside in frustration. Thoughts of Liam churned relentlessly in her mind, making it impossible to settle. With a sigh, she stood in her small apartment above the stables, pacing briefly before deciding to check on Aurelia, her younger sister Veronica’s pregnant mare.

Still dressed in casual black leggings and an oversized Henfordshire Equestrian Club sweatshirt, she pulled on her scuffed riding boots over thick socks. Tugging a quilted jacket over her shoulders, she stepped out into the cool, crisp night air. The boots crunched lightly against the gravel as she made her way to the barn, hoping the stillness of the stables might soothe her restless thoughts.

Aurelia stood in her stall, her usually calm demeanor replaced by restless shifting and shallow whinnies. Panic bubbled in Vivienne’s chest. This wasn’t normal—something was wrong. She felt helpless, her eyes scanning the mare’s labored breathing and anxious movements. The realization struck like a thunderclap: Aurelia was in labor.

Too early.

Vivienne’s pulse pounded in her ears as bolted out of the stable, her boots skidding on the wooden floor. Most of the stable staff had left for the night many hours ago. Due to ongoing personnel changes, the only ones who currently lived on site in simple, but very nice apartments above the stables, were the stablemaster, Roland Hawthorne, his son Liam—training to take over the role—and Vivienne herself, while training as a horse trainer and competitive show jumper. Usually they would have more live-in staff, but it seemed the entire world was in a state of flux now.

She raced up the stairs and down the corridor to the Hawthornes’ apartment, her fists banging on the door until it finally opened.

Liam stood there, groggy-eyed, his dark blond waves tousled and his lean frame clad only in boxers. For a moment, Vivienne couldn’t speak, her panic colliding with an unbidden flush at the sight of him. He frowned, blinking in confusion, his voice low and gravelly, carrying the strange depth of someone not yet fully awake.

“Vivienne? What’s—what’s wrong? Is there a fire? You okay?”

“No!” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I need your dad! Please get him and hurry! It’s Aurelia—she’s in distress. I think she’s in labor, but it’s way too soon and nobody is here! We need to call the vet!”

The words jolted him awake. His green eyes sharpened, and he swung back into the apartment, grabbing joggers and tugging them on. He snatched a hoodie off the chair, pulling it over his head as he muttered, half to himself, “My dad’s at the clinic in Britchester till Wednesday, and the vet would kill us if we woke him at this hour for a horse in labor.”

“Hurry!” Vivienne’s urgency cut through the night, relentless.

“I’m coming,” he snapped, though the tension in his voice matched hers. He shoved his feet into a pair of mud-caked boots, their scuffed edges clashing awkwardly with his sporty casual outfit. Without hesitation, he grabbed a box labeled ‘foaling kit’ from the cabinet by the door.
He slammed the door shut, then sprinted down the stairs after Vivienne toward the stables below.

The horse boxes were dimly lit, the warm glow of the light casting long shadows across the stalls. Aurelia’s distressed whinnies echoed through the quiet, and Vivienne hovered nervously near the mare, her hands clasped tightly.

“She’s definitely in labor,” Liam said after a quick assessment, his voice steady despite the chaos. “We need to check the foal’s position. Vivienne, get me the birthing kit—gloves, towels, iodine. Over there.” He pointed, already rolling up his sleeves.

Vivienne moved quickly, her trembling hands fetching the supplies. She returned just as Liam knelt by Aurelia, his expression focused.

“The foal’s breech,” he said grimly, glancing up at her.

Vivienne’s heart sank. “What does that mean? Is…is she going to be okay?”

“I think so,” Liam assured her, his voice calm but firm. “But I need your help. Follow my lead.”

Together, they worked with precision, Liam guiding her movements as they repositioned the foal. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, sweat beading on their brows as they navigated the delicate process. Vivienne’s fear threatened to overwhelm her, but Liam’s steady instructions kept her grounded.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured at one point, his green eyes meeting hers briefly. The intensity in his gaze sent a jolt through her, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the mare.

The barn was alive with tension. Aurelia’s breathing was labored, her sides heaving as she shifted restlessly in the dim light. The flickering lanterns cast warm, golden hues over her pale coat, which glistened faintly with sweat. Liam knelt beside her, his sleeves rolled up, his movements calm but deliberate as he worked. He spoke to the mare in soothing tones, his voice low and steady, while Vivienne stood nearby, wringing her hands anxiously.

The scent of hay mixed with the sharper tang of iodine, and the faint rustle of the stable’s sleeping occupants seemed amplified in the quiet. Vivienne’s heart thundered in her chest, her breaths shallow as she watched Liam’s every move.

“We’re getting there,” Liam murmured, glancing up briefly. His green eyes caught hers, filled with reassurance and focus. “Almost there, Viv. Just stay with me.”

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Aurelia groaned softly, her muscles straining as Liam adjusted the foal’s position. The pale golden mane of the baby was now visible, gleaming under the lantern light, and Vivienne felt a flicker of hope.

Finally, with one final push, the foal slipped into the world, a damp and fragile bundle of life. Vivienne’s cry of relief cut through the stillness as the newborn shuddered, its delicate body trembling before releasing a soft, tentative nicker.

Liam leaned forward, instincts taking over as he wiped the foal’s slick coat with a clean towel. The mare nuzzled her baby gently, her warm breath ruffling its damp fur. He worked quickly yet tenderly, cleaning the foal off while murmuring soothing words under his breath—though whether they were meant for the mare, the foal, or Vivienne, even he wasn’t sure.

“She’s beautiful,” Vivienne whispered, her voice shaking as tears streamed down her face. She laughed softly, the sound rippling with joy. “Oh my god, she’s so tiny… and gorgeous!”

Liam sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on his hoodie, now streaked with grime and straw. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he glanced at Vivienne, then back at the foal, who wobbled unsteadily on her spindly legs. “She’s a fighter, like us, Liam,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet pride.

Liam chuckled, his exhaustion evident but his smile genuine. “And insulted. It’s a colt. Look here,” he said, his stableworker instincts kicking in as he hoisted the foal up slightly, leaving no doubt about the foal’s gender.

Vivienne blinked, caught between mortification and laughter, her cheeks flushing crimson. “Oh. Right. Well, uh… hello, handsome,” she stammered, gently petting the newborn.

Liam grinned sheepishly and lowered the foal back down, giving Aurelia an apologetic pat. “Yeah, that was… probably not my most elegant moment showing you his business like that, sorry,” he admitted, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But hey, after being elbow-deep in his mother to fix that breech, I think my threshold for awkward is officially gone for the day. Sorry.”

Vivienne snorted, her laugh light and unguarded. “Don’t worry, mine too. Wow, stable work is definitely not for the faint of heart,” she sighed, though genuine curiosity threaded her tone. “Ever since I took on this role, not a day goes by without realizing that my family and I calling ourselves ‘well-versed equestrians’ was a total farce. My dad taught me a lot, sure, but looking back, I can see he kept so much from me. Honestly, I had no idea what goes into keeping these stables running.”

“Oh, believe me, this is just the tip of the iceberg,” Liam replied, leaning back on his heels as he wiped his hands on a towel. “If it involves mud, manure, disgusting injuries, or—yeah—mare labor, it’s all in a day’s work. Wait till you find out about horse beans, and I don’t mean the legumes, and how to remove them. Spoiler alert: it’s nobody’s favorite task. Not to mention the fact that all horses are essentially giant toddlers with a death wish. Riding out with aristocrats on fox hunts doesn’t quite prepare you for that, huh?”

“Nope, not quite,” Vivienne quipped, her laughter softening into something warmer. “I mean, just wow.”

Liam tilted his head, his grin lopsided. “You’d be surprised how many metaphors for ‘dirty work’ you can create around horses,” he replied, rising to his feet. “But honestly… it’s worth it, all of it, if you ask me. I mean, look ..” he pointed at the colt who already figured out how to drink from his exhausted mother.

Vivienne’s expression softened as she glanced between him and the newborn colt, her heart tugged in two directions—one toward the regal world she’d always known, and the other toward this grounded, messy, and undeniably real life he thrived in.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” she said, meeting his eyes, “you were amazing. Thank you.”

Aurora nickered softly, and the colt responded with a tiny, high-pitched whinny that made Vivienne’s heart swell. The sight of mother and son together, safe and healthy, was almost too much to bear. Without thinking, she turned to Liam, her arms wrapping around him tightly.

“My hero,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude.

Liam froze for a moment before his arms encircled her, hesitant but warm. Their embrace felt both familiar and foreign, a mixture of relief and something deeper they both hesitated to name. As Vivienne pulled back, her eyes met his, and for a moment, the world outside the stable disappeared.

Then something shifted. Liam’s arms loosened slightly, and Vivienne pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes glistened, her lips curving into a soft smile. Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering for a heartbeat.

Liam just stared at her, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Oops,” she said, her face twisting into the most awkward grimace.

That did it. He burst out laughing, the sound warm and unrestrained, filling the stable. “Girl, you are killing me,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head as he crouched to collect the scattered tools—a set of foaling straps, a clean towel now smeared with grime, and the bucket he’d hastily filled earlier, which Vivienne took from him. With an armful of equipment clinking softly against him, he turned and stepped out of the stall, giving Aurelia a final pat. Vivienne trailed after him, her footsteps echoing softly against the stable’s walls. They made their way to the hose, where he dropped the tools near a bench, so Vivienne set the bucket down with a hollow thud. Together, they began rinsing away the grime of the night, the cold water cutting through the sticky remnants of the foal’s dramatic entrance.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to be so… I don’t mean to be hot and cold with you. That’s what I meant when you tried to … you know. I’m just still so… damaged. I can’t handle dating now. And I think neither can you.”

Their eyes met over the running water, and Liam smiled at her, a boyish grin that made her heart jump despite herself. “No, I get it,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “You just don’t want sloppy seconds, as Maeve so eloquently put it. Don’t want a stableboy either, huh? As if I would date a princess. Ew.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t look at you as sloppy seconds. And secondly, you are about to be the new stablemaster. And lastly, I am literally not a real princess. Guess you slept through that class, huh, Lord Kensington?” she teased, purposely using his old name and title, neither valid anymore.

Liam’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Without a word, he flipped up the hose, sending a stream of water straight at her. Vivienne shrieked, flailing as the cold water hit her. “Liam!” she squealed, laughing as she tried to dodge the spray.

“You asked for it. BEGGED for it,” he said, his voice full of mock indignation as he chased her with the hose. Vivienne darted around the stable, giggling uncontrollably, her laughter echoing through the quiet night.

For a moment, everything felt light—uncomplicated. The weight of their respective pasts felt distant, their shared laughter cutting through the stillness of the stable.

Finally, Liam lowered the hose, twisting the nozzle to cut off the water. “Truce?” he asked, a smirk still playing on his lips.

“Truce,” Vivienne agreed, breathless from laughter as she wrung out the hem of her shirt, water dripping from her hair.

Together, they made their way upstairs, their damp footsteps echoing softly in the early hours. As they walked, Liam gave her a gentle nudge with his shoulder, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. Vivienne bumped him back, her laughter quiet but warm, their unspoken connection weaving through the silence.

At the top of the stairs, they paused. Vivienne’s apartment was a little further down the hallway, while Liam’s door was right there, only steps away.

“Night, Viv,” Liam said, leaning casually against his doorframe as she walked the short distance.

She glanced over her shoulder, a tired but content smile on her face. “Goodnight, Liam. Oh, and thank you again, for everything,” she replied softly, disappearing into her apartment.

Acknowledging her words with a slight nod, Liam waited until her door clicked shut, lifting a hand in a slight wave she probably didn’t see. Then, with a quiet sigh, he slipped into his own apartment, the warmth of the night’s laughter lingering like an ember in the dark.