The chase had led them far beyond the high stone walls of the capital. They had raced through the city gates, across the open plains, and now, the ground was rising. They were deep in the mountains of the Tughril highlands.
Lin Rui leaned low, his chest almost touching the horse's mane. Every muscle in his body was tense, his hands gripping the leather reins with a steady, practiced skill he hadn't realized he possessed until this moment.
Left, right, lean. Stay with the rhythm, he said as if reminding him again of all those riding lessons he had when he was a kid.
His parents had insisted that every summer, without fail, he and his elder brother would spend time in the stables, despite his protests. "Every child in our social circle joins an elite riding school," his mother would say. "And you will, too."
