I woke to warmth.

  Not the sharp heat of pain, nor the suffocating dark of unconsciousness—

  Sunlight slipping through the narrow gaps of a wooden stable.

  Dust floated in the air, slow and gentle.

  A breeze followed, carrying the scent of hay and clean earth, brushing against my coat as if to confirm that I was still here.

  Alive.

  My body felt heavy.

  When I tried to shift, my muscles answered late, stiff and uncertain, as though they had forgotten how to obey.

  Confusion settled in before fear could.

  Then someone screamed.

  “—It’s awake!”

  Boots scrambled.

  A stablehand froze in front of me, eyes wide, before spinning around and shouting again.

  Louder this time, calling for others, and calling for the prince.

  Startled, I let out a sharp whinny.

  The sound echoed back at me, foreign yet familiar.

  That alone told me everything I needed to know.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I wasn’t dreaming.

  I wasn’t returning to another body.

  I was still a horse.

  Angela.

  Crown Princess.

  The stable filled with noise... hurried voices, footsteps, disbelief... until it suddenly parted.

  Through the chaos, I heard a rhythm I recognized.

  Sir Roland.

  He entered the stable without hesitation.

  The moment he saw me upright, his breath hitched.

  He crossed the space between us in seconds and wrapped his arms around my neck, holding me as if afraid I would vanish again.

  The contact startled me enough to make me snort loudly, earning a few gasps from the onlookers.

  But beneath that surprise, something warm spread through my chest.

  I didn’t pull away.

  I couldn’t.

  “I thought I lost you,” he said, voice rough. “Again.”

  The word again landed heavier than anything else.

  He pressed his forehead against me, shoulders tense, as if reliving something he refused to say out loud.

  I learned then that I had been unconscious for three days.

  Three days balanced between life and death.

  Mort, he told me, would be executed by the Kingdom of Charlton.

  The charge was treason.

  An attempt on the crown prince’s life, espionage, sabotage hidden inside training routines.

  The timing of his execution would remain known only to the royal court.

  Sir Antonie had been punished lightly.

  His error was negligence, not betrayal.

  The obstacle training had never been Roland’s order.

  And me?

  I had been in this body for four months.

  That was what the doctor said.

  Four months since the first critical incident.

  Four months since the gap between my life and this horse’s life had first narrowed to nothing.

  “Four months,” I repeated in my head, stunned.

  A confused sound escaped my throat instead.

  Sir Roland nodded anyway, as if he understood.

  Then he looked at me, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us.

  His eyes were tired.... sharpened...

  Alive with something I couldn’t name.

  “I won’t let you fall again,” he said quietly.

  My heart tightened.

  I was a horse.

  I knew that.

  Yet under his gaze, under the weight of his promise, I felt my face heat in a way that had nothing to do with sunlight.

  And somewhere deep inside, a thought surfaced—

  clear and unsettling.

  If this was my second awakening…

  What awaited me at the third?