The moon hung high above the Thompson estate, a pale, silver crescent in a sky of deep velvet blue. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and the cooling stone of the manor walls. It was the kind of silence that usually brought peace.
The rhythmic clop-clop-clop of hooves broke the stillness as two horses turned into the main courtyard. They moved slowly, tired from the journey back from the barracks.
Derek slid down from his black mare. His boots hit the gravel with a heavy, solid sound. He stretched his neck, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders. It had been a long day of training soldiers, managing supply lines, and thinking about his woman.
Ian dismounted beside him. He looked fresh, despite the long hours. He took the reins of Derek's horse.
"I will take them, Your Grace," Ian said quietly. "Rest well."
Derek nodded, patting the mare's flank one last time. "Make sure they are brushed down properly, Ian. Extra oats tonight."
"Yes, Your Grace."
