To the stables

Riva and the group of noblewomen reached the royal stables at the far end of the garden. Grooms led out the new horses for inspection, and Riva felt such sleek, well-muscled animals with glossy coats must only exist here. The queen and her ladies circled the animals, commenting on conformation and temperament. Riva stood close to one of the large stallions, letting her hand rest on its warm flank while Ladyy Eivinel watched from a few paces away, lips pressed thin.

When the queen turned to speak with the stable master, Riva caught Eivinel's stare once more. She arched her back slightly, the movement deliberate, and watched the other woman's nostrils flare with barely concealed resentment. The afternoon sun warmed Riva's smooth skin, the air thick with the scent of hay and leather, and she felt the familiar, low pulse of arousal stir again at the knowledge that every envious look only fed her own quiet power.

A large bay stallion off to the side suddenly swung his heavy head toward Lady Eivinel. His nostrils flared wide as he pressed his muzzle directly against the curve of her ass, snorting loudly. Eivinel yelped and jumped forward, but the horse followed, his thick cock already sliding from its sheath, dark and glistening. The other ladies stared. A few covered their mouths to hide laughter. Others rushed forward with soothing words, patting Eivinel's arm and murmuring that it was only an animal's instinct.

Eivinel's narrow face burned crimson. She tried to step sideways, but the stallion's cock hung heavy and fully extended now, bobbing with each step he took toward her. The queen's lips twitched, though she kept her tone measured. "Take him back," she told the groom. Two stable hands hurried forward and led the aroused stallion away while Eivinel smoothed her skirts with shaking hands.

The group began the walk back toward the castle. The queen thanked each lady for joining her and dismissed them with a gracious nod. One by one the women curtsied and drifted off along different garden paths.

Riva lingered at the edge of the path. A gardener in a simple brown tunic approached her, clutching a single white rose in his callused hand. Dirt streaked his knuckles. He bowed low, eyes fixed on the ground.

"M'lady," he said quietly, "I saw you pass and... well, you are truly the fairest thing I've ever seen. If it please you, marm, take this." He held out the rose.

Riva felt an unexpected warmth in her chest at the plain honesty in his voice. What kindness...I guess he's earned a little something. She stepped closer, then bent forward to accept the flower, letting the neckline of her gown fall open. The gardener's gaze dropped straight to the deep valley between her breasts. He stared openly, breath catching, while she pretended not to notice. Her nipples tightened against the thin fabric as she straightened, rose in hand, and gave him a soft, genuine smile.

"Thank you," she said. "It's beautiful."