Transmigrated Into The Body Of The Cursed Prince Wife
Chapter 123: The princess and the horse

Chapter 123: The princess and the horse

A few minutes ago, after Ave walked into the doomed palace leaving Isolde in the carriage, the girl had first obediently sat inside, using her hand fan to elegantly fan herself as she tried to imagine what tomorrow would be like at the ceremony. It was going to be her—their first time ever performing at their father’s birthday ceremony, and if she said she wasn’t excited and nervous at the same time, it would be a lie.

Not to mention that wench Madeline would be performing before them. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but wonder if even their own father was in support of Madeline over his own daughters. And thinking about their dance tomorrow suddenly made her restless and unable to remain in the carriage as it suddenly felt stuffy and suffocating.

Thus, she open all all the curtains in the carriage but yet it didn’t help her one bit. She pursed her lips and peeked her head out the window to see if the second prince or his bodyguard was anywhere around, but not seeing them, she smiled to herself and opened the carriage door before stepping out.

Isolde didn’t move away from the carriage but leaned her back against it while she craned her neck toward the entrance to see if Ave was coming, but not seeing her, she sighed again as she shifted from one foot to the other. She was biting down on her finger, a habit her mother had scolded her for countless times but couldn’t help, when she heard someone curse under their breath as they dropped something.

Looking in the direction while still biting on her fingernails, she saw a young boy with curly ginger hair who looked no more than a year older than she was, trying to gather a pile of hay he was carrying but had tripped over a stone and dropped.

When the bundle of hay had fallen from the boy’s hand, the rope keeping it together had loosened and the hay had scattered around the ground. Now, he bent down and began to patiently gather it while muttering a few curses under his breath before he suddenly began to sing to himself.

Isolde didn’t know why, but something about the boy made her curious. Well, it was obvious he was a servant with his ragged attire and tanned skin, but when he sang, he had a pleasant voice, and she found herself biting harder on her nails as she stared at him doing his work. But he paused all of a sudden, and her breath hitched in her throat when his head slowly turned in her direction as if he had finally sensed her presence.

When Isolde met his face, she would admit, for a servant, he looked good with mustard-colored eyes and freckles all over his nose. She briefly locked eyes with him, and the boy quickly averted his gaze before bowing his head to show respect, then hurriedly gathered his hay and left in haste toward the stables.

Isolde didn’t realize she had bitten her nails to the point she had bitten into the skin around them until she tasted the blood on her tongue and quickly looked at the mess she had made of her nails. Glancing toward the palace entrance and not seeing any signs of Ave, she looked toward the stables and hesitated for a moment before beginning to make her way to the stable the servant boy had walked into.

She stopped at the entrance as she scrunched her nose at the unpleasant smell of the stable. She was never the type to like being in places like this, having been raised bathing and living in pleasant fragrances. But for the first time, she found herself standing at the entrance of a smelly stable.

From where she stood, she could hear the boy’s voice singing from inside as the horses neighed while he seemed to be feeding them. Peeking inside, she didn’t see the boy but could hear his voice. Raising her chin high, she walked inside and cleared her throat loud enough to gain his attention. His singing immediately stopped, and his head peeked out from one of the stalls. The moment he spotted her, his eyes widened, and he hurriedly stepped out and bowed his head.

"Y-Your Highness!" he greeted, as it was obvious she was a Princess from her attire and the little crown attached to her blond hair. "How may I assist you?" he asked, sounding a bit anxious, he’d never come before any of the Pendragon Princesses.

Isolde pursed her lips as she regarded the boy with her head tilted to the side. Now that she was standing a few steps away from him, he towered over her despite his head being bowed. He was a tall young man with lean, not too lean, muscles. From his sleeveless shabby shirt, she could see how the veins on his arms bulged, built for someone his age. His tanned skin was... stunning and fascinating.

What was she doing here coming after him anyway? She wondered, as she also had no idea why she’d come here. But because she didn’t want to lose face and embarrass her royal blood by being friendly with a lowly servant, she said,

"I came here to inspect your work, since I’ve heard that servants these days like to neglect their work and goof about just like you had been doing—singing. What is your name, servant boy?" she demanded, trying to add authority to her tone as she’d been taught.

"My name is Harry, the first son of Hugo woodcutter who works in these stables, Your Highness. And I wasn’t goofing around, I was only trying to assist my father, he went to ease himself and I don’t remember since when Princesses were the ones doing work inspections," he remarked confidently, his voice lacking any hint of fear that he might lose his job for being accused of slacking when he had just been singing.

He was assigned to work in the armory room to clean the weapons, but his father had been suffering from an upset stomach from the effect of having three meals a day in the palace, something they weren’t used to before. But thanks to the second prince, they were treated nicely, and he had come here to clean and feed the horses for his father. Yet this Princess suddenly came here and accused him of goofing around, which was not fair when he had been doing his work.

Instead of intimidating the servant, it was the other way around. Isolde found herself at a loss for words. Well, she was used to putting young maids in their place, but it was always within the walls of the main palace. Now that she was here in the doomed palace, she felt a bit intimidated.

But she cleared her throat and tried to act brave as she said, "Since now. I am here to inspect your work, and I won’t leave until I see with my own eyes how clean the horses are after you’ve bathed them. Show me your work and what you’ve been doing." She raised her chin and glared at him.

Harry knew he shouldn’t dare cross the line with a Princess by speaking back. He would have reminded her that there was no such thing as bathing horses here, but instead, he nodded his head just as any servant would. He stepped to the side and began to lead the way, opening the horses’ stalls one after the other to show her.

Isolde had no idea what she was even supposed to look at to know if the horses were cleaned properly or not. This was her first time being in a stable, and she fought the urge to pinch her nose to rid herself of the unpleasant earthy and hay smell that covered the entire place. But because she didn’t want to part with Harry before making sure she left an impression, she walked behind him as he opened the stalls.

"I see you have been trying here," she commented as she craned her neck to peek at the horses, busy eating and snorting. Well, they looked clean enough, she thought as she walked past Harry to the last stall in the stable, where at first she thought there was no horse inside. But when she peeked inside, a white, beautiful horse she had never seen before was there. The horse’s eyes were closed, as if meditating without paying attention to the food.

Isolde frowned as she saw that the stall of this particular horse wasn’t clean. Without looking away from the beautiful horse, she spoke to Harry, "And why is this horse left unclean? You didn’t bathe her, did you? Tsk, come here and start cleaning her up while I watch you," she ordered as her gaze shifted to the boy.

Harry looked a bit worried as he said, "I was told not to approach that mare. She’s not so friendly, and I wouldn’t do that if I were you." He warned her when Isolde reached out to pull the latch of the stall to open it. She wanted to hear the boy sing again, but because of her pride, she didn’t want to ask him to. Thus, she would gladly stand here and watch this boy work, and perhaps he would sing then.

Isolde didn’t listen to his warning and scoffed at him instead as she said, "Stop being a sissy, Harry. She’s just a meditating mare who looks bored. Come here and bathe her." She pulled the latch before Harry could stop her, and the seemingly resting mare shot her eyes open—eyes so blue they seemed to burn in the dim stall, causing Isolde’s heart to drop to her stomach. The mare snorted in what seemed to be displeasure before she inched slowly toward her.

"Your Highness, step away from her. Now!" Harry warned in alarm, as he had heard several rumors about this particular mare in the palace. It was said she had killed a guard with a kick just for patting her. Since then, no one was allowed to approach her but the second prince, and Harry had been warned by his father to stay away from that stall.

Isolde began to back away as the horse approached her. "H-Harry, what should I do? I think she’s glaring at me. Do something!" she cried as her hand fan dropped from her grip.

"Don’t run, just step to the left and enter the empty stall there and let her pass to come to me," he instructed. If Isolde moved and entered the empty stall to her left as instructed, the horse would see him instead of her. But Isolde was too shaken to believe that would work. Instead of following his advice, she let out an ear-piercing scream and turned on her heels to run. The horse snorted in disapproval and chased after her like a dog after an intruder.

"AHHHH!!! IT’S GOING TO KILL ME!!" Isolde’s scream filled the entire compound as the horse chased her, drawing the attention of every single guards in the premises but none of them could step forward to help as they knew the history of the white horse.

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