The three ladies lingered in the shade, catching their breath after the commotion of the race. Mrs. Warrier had little inclination to inquire about Prudence's well-being. The victory was a triumph, yes, but what lay beyond it, this life entwined with Vincent, was far more precarious. She could only offer gentle counsel, urging her daughter to bear the path she had to choose.
For Prudence, the challenges of the past were tempered by her acceptance of Vincent, and, strangely, she looked forward to the days ahead with him now.
Abiona chattered on about her recent encounters with the suitors that had sought her attention, her words tumbling over themselves. Prudence tried to focus, but pain in her foot, the result of Norma's spiteful kick, throbbed insistently beneath her skin.
At last, Prudence broke the conversation. "I think my foot is killing me. I should get some rest."
