Chapter 48: Perfume and Filth
Lyria's POV
By the time I finished the last stall, my arms trembled faintly from the effort.
The stables were quieter now. Evening light spilled through the high slats in long golden bars, turning dust into drifting sparks. The horses had settled, their earlier restlessness fading into the slow rhythm of hooves shifting against straw and the soft huff of breath.
I leaned my weight against the wooden partition for a moment and flexed my fingers.
They were stiff. That was not surprising.
Cleaning stalls, hauling water, scrubbing tack, and brushing down temperamental geldings was hardly gentle work. The scent of hay clung to my clothes, but it was the sharper smell beneath it—horse, sweat, and the faint sourness of the muck heap—that truly claimed me.
Jacinta may have punished me, but... I could not quite suppress the small smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth.
I hadn't seen her face for hours after all. That was a good thing on my part.
