Page 60 of Royally Drawn (Resplendent Royals #3)

INGRID

I t all came down to the final day at the European Championships. If I managed to ride clear, I would likely finish in pole position for the Olympics. Even a single penalty would keep me home. Kraken and I prepared for the ride of our lives. Well, I did. Kraken was just the same good boy he ever was.

“You’re going to kick their asses,” Keir said, shining my boots as we waited by the gate. “Don’t think about them, though. Think about you.”

“Ride for you,” Cici said. “Ride for your horse making these games again. He deserves to go once more, right? And you deserve to go for yourself—for the first time.”

I patted Kraken, the Olympic vet. He flicked his ears back, waiting and listening.

“You’re going to be fine,” Betty promised.

“Better than fine,” Keir added.

“Scandinavian fine, which is excellent,” Cici clarified.

I snickered and bent down to give Keir an awkward kiss.

“You’re up,” Cici said.

“Kick ass and take names!” Keir called after me .

I intended to. I circled and trotted, winding Kraken up. He didn’t need much encouragement. Even at his age, he could still get up and go with the best of them. I visualised the round. I rode like it was my last ride—ride for me. We took off and headed for the first fence. I basked in the roundness of Kraken’s impressive jump and how smooth he landed.

We had a hair-raising moment where I knew we knocked a pole, if only by the gasp from the crowd—then clapping. It held. I let Kraken out, headed for the next fence. We had this long combination, and I trusted him to know the line better than I did. All the frustrating gymnastics practice in the world—enough to make the laziest hunter pony look snappy—would either pay off or not.

I nearly closed my eyes as we landed from the final fence. Clear. The final wall lay ahead. It was a tricky gallop across the arena to get there—an attractive design that had thrown off at least four riders in their approach. Again, I trusted my horse to know best. I got off his mouth, glad to be a passenger and let him enjoy his job.

“You got this, baby!” Keir shouted.

“Go, go, go!” Cici and Betty cried out.

Somewhere in the stands, I knew all three Deschamps sisters and their children cheered me on. I beamed as we came to the fence. Kraken switched his lead on the way there, clearing it like he had another metre to give. We were clean. I minded our time. We’d done it. With only three riders behind me—much lower ranked—I knew I was about to place third and go through. Somehow, I’d had the best event of my life and pulled this off.

I arrived at the gate to a crush of riders and my coach, all jumping up and down. I bent forward to squeeze Kraken’s massive neck and give him all the kisses. I hopped off into the arms of the man I loved the most. Keir picked me up and swung me around, kissing me.

He put me back down, my face in his hands, and said, “You are the most wonderfully brave person I know.”

“You’re sweet.”

“I’m honest, my love. You’re amazing. I’m so, so proud of you!”

“Come here!” Cici shouted, also picking me up and swinging me around. “You’re going! We’re going! ”

“We will take over the world,” I giggled.

I kissed my horse on the nose and handed him to a groom. By that point, the family had arrived. The children were confused but excited.

“Give her the flowers,” Rick said to Chris.

“Why? I want them!” Chris said.

“She’s going to the Olympics,” Alexandra said. “They are a congratulations.”

Chris held them out. I took the flowers before handing him back a rose.

“For being my biggest fan,” I said. “I love them. Thank you all.”

“You are so good!” Linny announced. “The best!”

“Oh, I did not beat cousin Cici,” I laughed. “But I did try.”

“In time,” Cici said, squeezing my shoulders.

A reporter approached.

“Princess Ingrid! Congrats! You made the Olympics!”

“I am off to DC next year, I guess. And so grateful for all my friends and family,” I looked around. “And Kraken, who is the best boy.”

“What is next?” The reporter asked.

“Uh, a holiday, Burghley, and some well-earned rest for myself and my horse.”

I had to speak to more reporters than even Cici did. My “meteoric rise” attracted attention I never anticipated. Eventually, I returned to the stable aisle to dote more on my horse. It was in a barn in Germany where something wonderful and unexpected happened.

“Ingrid, can I bother you a minute?” Keir asked.

“Sure,” I agreed, throwing my arms around him.

He pulled back. Confusion spread as he got down on one knee right there.

“Ingrid Deschamps, would you marry me? Would you be my wife so we can walk the rest of our lives together?”

He held out a beautiful ring. I knew it was his mother’s—the one his father had given her years before.

“Yes. Because you still owe me at least 700,000 I-love-yous,” I said, tears in my eyes.

He hopped up, kissing me as my entire entourage cheered. I suspected they were in on it. But Kraken nudged my back before I could slip the ring on my finger. I turned to rub his face.

“Someone is jealous,” I laughed. “And wants treats.”

“Mummy and Daddy are getting married, and this is what you do, mate?”

“He’s excited… and hungry,” I giggled. “And It’s perfect. All of it is so fucking perfect.”

“It really is,” Keir said. “I couldn’t wait a minute longer.”

“I am glad,” I said, giving Keir a long kiss. “I’ll be yours forever.”