Chapter 275: The Prince and The Stallion
Dean drove the small four-wheeled vehicle down a gravel path, leading Micah and Emile in the direction of the horse range.
The ride was short, the air crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of pine and hay. Hills stretched on both sides, filled with tall trees and patches of wildflowers. Wooden fences marked off wide, grassy fields, and in the distance, horses grazed lazily under the sun.
Micah sat in the front, legs casually crossed, one arm resting on the edge of the cart. His other hand tapped a steady rhythm on his thigh.
His mood was suspiciously good, too good, especially after how he had flatly denied Clyde’s request to join them.
Clyde had tried, of course. A single sentence, low and indifferent, asking if he could come along. But Micah had smiled, leaned casually into Dean’s side, and said with a sweet voice. "I think I will enjoy it better with this sweet brother and Emile. You know, just young folks."
Clyde had said nothing. Just stood still at the porch, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes watching them go as the cart rolled away.
And Micah had smiled wider.
When they reached the stables, Micah was the first to jump out of the cart. He landed lightly on his feet, plucked a blade of hay from the side, and stuck it between his teeth, chewing lazily.
Dean stepped down more cautiously. Emile hopped off after him, adjusting his sunglasses and his big hat while looking around.
A groom in a neat navy vest came forward with a slight bow. "Young masters, welcome. This way, please. You can change into your riding attire in the locker rooms."
They followed him into a long wooden stable house with walls lined with polished saddles, riding gear and photos of previous races. Everything was clean and arranged, with a faint smell of leather and fresh hay lingering in the air.
Micah emerged first from the locker room, fully dressed in a sharp black equestrian outfit. The tailored jacket hugged his frame tightly. His riding pants were tucked into sleek leather boots that reached just below the knee. A black helmet rested under his arm.