Road to the Regalia (Nadia and Winny Book 2)

by Rachael Eliker

  We both heard the gentle tinkle of the judge’s bell, signaling we had less than a minute to begin the test. “I guess I faced my demons. That was therapeutic. I feel a lot better,” Winny sighed. “Alright, remember how to win?”

  I gave a long snort so she’d know I was relaxed and focused. No point in being wound up now. We were as ready as we could be.

  “Go, Nadia!” a shrill cry broke from the otherwise silent crowd. Winny looked over her shoulder to see my mother, standing on her stadium seat, shaking her fists wildly in the air and my father trying fruitlessly to pull her back into her chair.

  “I see your parents made it,” Winny grinned. “We’d better get started before your mom causes a scene.”

  “I think she already has,” I said, feeling humiliated. At least Winny was good with dealing with my mother’s stress-induced dramatics. I could always hide behind my hay and pretend I didn’t know her.

  “Well, let’s give them a good show.” Winny carefully gathered the reins, pricked my sides with her spurs and we were off.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Don’t forget to smile, I thought to myself. The second we cantered into the arena, the judges’ eyes were on us, evaluating our companionship in every technical, artistic, harmonious and precise aspect of dressage. Neither of us could truly carry the test on our own—not at this level. The least I could do was to appear agreeable. My equine lips couldn’t smile but a pleasant countenance would be obvious—no tail wringing, no tensing neck, no angrily pounding hooves.

  Winny wore a subtly pleased expression even though I could feel her hands tremble slightly as the reins jiggled the bit. I ignored the irritation on my tender mouth and continued to perform.

  Two judges carefully observed us. A pear-shaped man in khakis and a navy sport coat stood for Winny’s gracious salute. He accepted with a slow nod, then sat back in a chair, hands weaved together, eyes intently focused on us and already murmuring notes for his mousy-looking scribe. The other was housed in a similar gazebo mid-arena behind B. She, too, was subtly whispering comments to a voluptuous woman with equally voluminous hair acting as scribe, though she did not rise in response to our salute.

  Pausing for a deep breath, Winny and I got right to work. In the quiet of the arena, I could’ve heard a pin drop. The crowd had gone silent except for a wailing baby far up in the family section that the mother desperately tried to shush. It felt like all of my senses were electrically charged by the eagerness of the crowd and the stress of the competition. My sensitive equine mind battled with human logic as I resisted the urge to leave it all behind and high-tail it for safety.

  With three squeezes from her calves and gathered reins, Winny signaled me into a collected trot. I immediately complied. Dropping my hindquarters slightly, it gave me the power and impulsion I needed to spring forward. We trotted right by the judge at C, and I could see every detail of his scrutinizing face—the crow’s feet around his sharp eyes as he squinted and focused, his receding hairline, the tanned skin that only came from hours in the sun, probably from watching hundreds of dressage tests a year.

  We weaved around the arena in tight circles and looping serpentines. Across a diagonal, Winny squeezed her calves and released her grip on the reins ever so slightly, encouraging me to draw out my frame and gait in a powerful extended trot. I burst forward, stretching my legs and Winny caught me with a subtle half-halt, squeezing her knees and thighs in the saddle to keep me from tumbling onto my forehand and losing the delicate balance of the movement.

  Sweat began trickling from my skin though the morning wasn’t yet warm. I let out a heavy breath and a plume of steam escaped into the air. Winny was breathless after sitting my buoyant, extended trot too, but thankfully, we had both paid the price to be in prime condition. A rest was built in for a few moments as Winny closed her knees more firmly when we neared C. I gratefully listened, transitioning down into the walk. Though it was a chance to get a breath in, the walk was often a stumbling block for horses. Some impatiently yanked the reins from their rider’s hand so they could stretch their back muscles, others stepped choppily, anticipating their next trot and others still were lazy and lackluster.

  I willed myself to be calm yet determined as I walked. Winny expertly guided me to G, away from the comfort of the railings and in the line of sight of both judges. I knew what was coming but for some reason, it unnerved me. The halt. For two or three seconds, I was to stand immobile and docile, waiting for the cue to rein back five steps. I kept myself from flinching or tossing my head anxiously, doing my best to pretend that standing still was perfectly natural. Discretely, Winny gave the cue to rein back. The trick was to drop my haunches and make each footfall deliberate and even, rather than race in reverse, sloppily shuffling ruts in the footing. I blew a sigh of relief when Winny released me and we were moving forward again.

  From there, it was a light, collected canter down the centerline. I prepared myself for a right turn when Winny jabbed me sternly with her spur, preventing me from bending properly to the right.

  “Ow!” I complained with a small, reactionary flick of the tail. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to go right next.”

  I resisted slightly, the muscles under my throatlash tensing. Still, she pushed me to the left.

  “We’ll be penalized for an error on course!” I wanted her to understand but couldn’t argue in a way she could truly understand without being penalized. As my steps grew uneven and I full-out wrung my tail, she sunk her seat deeper into the saddle and pushed forward with a stern leg. “This is on you,” I warned, accepting her direction and gracefully bent my massive body around her tiny leg. As we passed the judge at C, I waited for him to grab the bell and ring it in penalty for being off course.

  He never did.

  A sense of relief and shame clashed in my chest. Why had I not trusted her? Was I really so sure I was the only one who knew what was going on? And even if she had been in error, she would have been the one to face the consequences. As a horse, no one would be blaming me for not knowing the test by heart.

  The rest of the test went flawlessly. I was cheerfully submissive and did my part while Winny did hers. The half pass was still my favorite dressage movement and while we moved simultaneously forward and sideways, I stretched my legs as far as I could reach. In our final serpentine, I thanked my lucky stars that we had been diligently focused on improving the counter canter at home. It was tempting to tip to one side or the other instead of balance or swap leads in a flying change but with Winny’s help, it was executed without trouble.

  Rounding the last corner, we marched down the centerline to an invisible X. Winny didn’t have to ask me to stop twice. One second my body was moving determinedly forward, the next, I was immobile. With a beaming smile on her face and her brown eyes focused clearly on the head judge, Winny dropped her white-gloved hand and dramatically nodded. The crowd roared before she even looked up.

  It was obvious that we were one of the favorites which was both flattering and intimidating. I wanted to deliver a stellar performance that would make a name for us in the very top of three-day eventing. Mom, my undying fan, stomped on her seat, shouting wildly, “Go, Nadia!” Dad had given up and was beet red, hiding his embarrassment behind a hand.

  Winny played to the crowd and waved broadly as we exited the dressage ring. A bright-eyed girl tossed a token of admiration and for a moment, I mistook it as something out to get me. I reared and bolted sideways while Winny desperately wrapped her arms around my neck to keep from being flung off. A bouquet of roses slapped me in the shoulder and bounced limply into the sand. I planted my feet and sorted at the lump of shattered flowers, just to be sure they weren’t dangerous.

  One of the ring stewards jogged over and collected what he could of the flowers, handing them up to Winny. She thanked him and the girl, then poked me in the neck and warned me to quit being a spaz. We rejoined our group and Mike pulled Winny down and planted a long kiss on the
lips.

  “Geez, Mike. Let her breathe,” Gretchen laughed.

  Mike released Winny and grinned broadly. “Sorry. Just wanted to congratulate her.” I pushed my nose into him, wanting my share of affection. His work-worn hand rubbed over my white star and he gave me a quick peck on the nose. I nuzzled him back.

  “You two had a disagreement after the rein back,” Ms. Diederich astutely pointed out.

  Winny nodded. “Somebody wanted to go right and got all tense when I told her to go left because somebody forgot I sat in the stands all day yesterday making sure I had the test down pat.”

  My nostrils burned in embarrassment but the subject was left at that. Slowly, we ambled back to the barn, in no hurry to go anywhere now that our turn at dressage had been accomplished successfully. Winny made sure to loosen my girth and I hung my head low, giving the long muscles behind my withers a chance to relax. It was also a chance to nip at the lush grass every few strides.

  “You can’t go back there,” one of the security guards was trying to stop someone from wriggling under the gates.

  “I beg your pardon but my daughter is a competitor.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am but you don’t have the proper identification to behind the barriers.”

  Mike and Winny finally broke off their conversation when they heard the bickering escalate. “Wonder who—” Mike mumbled as he glanced over his shoulder. My ears burned. It was my mother.

  “It’s Nadia’s mother,” Winny said, squinting and shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “Your mom?”

  “Yeah. My mom,” Winny absentmindedly agreed. “Let’s go help before the guard gets flustered and drags her off the grounds.”

  We jogged over and Winny shouted, “Mom!” Her hail stopped my mom mid-sentence. She had been shaking her driver’s license to try and prove that she was indeed related.

  “Nadia!” she squealed enthusiastically, reaching over the gates and squeezing Winny in a brutal hug.

  “Hi, mom,” Winny gasped. When she finally wriggled free, she appealed to the guard’s ego and managed to get my parents admitted behind the scenes.

  “Didn’t you get an all-access pass?” Mike asked, grabbing the plastic card dangling from his neck and held it up as an example.

  “Someone left it at home,” Dad whispered behind his hand and poked his thumb at Mom. He received a quick swat to his gut.

  “You try packing for two major life events next time. First, Selma graduating from college, and now, our daughter being chosen for the Olympics!”

  “I’m not being chosen necessarily, just considered,” Winny corrected. Mom wasn’t listening.

  “Selma says congratulations, by the way, and she wishes she could’ve been here but she’s getting her place all packed up. Grandma wants to talk to you though. We’ve got to give her a call.”

  After a few more hugs and handshakes and Mom slipping me a candy she’d found in her purse, we were back on track to the barn. “You did beautifully, Nadia,” Mom gushed. “I bet you’ll be in first place at the end of the day.”

  Winny jovially rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of you to say but there’s more to winning than just being someone’s favorite.”

  “Being a favorite helps though,” she patted Winny’s cheek. Mom’s phone trilled a cheery tune from her pocket. She glanced at the screen and exclaimed, “Oh, good! It’s Grandma.”

  Mom answered the phone, then stuck it up to Winny’s ear. “Hello?” Winny said. She excused herself out of earshot, probably to avoid incriminating herself. She’d never met my grandma, who had lived in sunny California since Grandpa had passed away. I laughed at the conversation I imagined Winny was having with a woman she knew virtually nothing about.

  “I’d better get Winny back so Kally can work her post-ride magic,” Mike said, jabbing his thumb toward the barn. Mom marched to Winny and Dad came along with Mike. The pair chatted mostly about Mike’s schooling and the light at the end of the tunnel—he’d be defending his dissertation in a few short months, and the culmination of all his hard work would determine whether or not he’d be Dr. Hughes. I always thought the title had a nice ring to it.

  Skylar slipped back into Chaos’ stall with a brush in hand to finish up the grey mare’s grooming. I could see Chaos dozing, eyelids blinking slowly, hip cocked. When she heard my heavy footfall on the concrete, she shyly remarked, “You looked beautiful in your test.”

  “You saw it?”

  “Just a few parts at the beginning before Skylar brought me back. You’re a very graceful pair.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Somehow, her compliment meant more to me than the roar of the audience. “Sorry about the comment about you and Gloria. You’re very graceful. I love your trot.”

  Chaos heaved a breath and shook her mane after Skylar clipped the last threads out of her firmly woven braids. “Don’t worry about it. I know Gloria can be a bit heavy-handed but she’s quite talented and extremely focused. She doesn’t tolerate mistakes is all.”

  “I know,” I said as I cocked my head and looked at the white scar, marring the once proud Holstein brand that Gloria gave Winny before we’d become a pair.

  Kally carefully pulled all my tack. The cool air across my sweat-matted hair felt absolutely sublime. I watched Dad mosey away in search of food, but Mike stayed to assist Kally and wait for Winny’s return. He handed over towels and ointments and brushes as Kally requested them.

  Katie walked in, whistling and lugging an armful of goodies she’d purchased at the vendors. She cheerfully greeted Kally, Skylar and Mike, then disappeared into her tack room to put away her new tack and souvenirs.

  “How’d your test go?” Isis peered at me with her gentle eyes.

  “I think pretty well other than one disagreement towards the end. I wanted to go right, she wanted to go left, I resisted…”

  Kally bent down and ran her hands firmly along my legs, feeling for any radiating heat or swelling. “Mike? Could you find that green tub of cream in the tack room? I think I should poultice her legs, just to be safe. I’m gonna run to the trailer to get a clean pair of wraps.”

  Kally’s sneakers squeaked as she jogged away and Mike rummaged through the closet until he found what she’d requested. He flipped the plastic jar in his hand a few times before reading the label, as only a chemistry geek would do.

  “Mike?” Skylar breathlessly called from Chaos’ stall. “Could you give me a hand?” Skylar staggered into the walkway with an armful of grooming supplies.

  I’d have let her struggle, but Mike, gentlemanly as always, was over to her side and unloading her arms before a single comb fell. Skylar danced around behind him to open the wood door to Gloria’s tack room and began sorting items while he patiently waited.

  A bubble of anger popped in my gut as I watched her nonchalantly, but with certain intent, run her fingers along his bare forearm thanking him for his help. “So,” Skylar said, leaning casually against Chaos’ stall, “how long have you and Danika’s prodigy been dating?”

  Mike shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and dropped his head with a laugh, dismissing Skylar’s insult directed toward me. “We started seriously dating about a year after she got a job at Danika’s.”

  “That’s quite a while,” Skylar snorted. “Is something wrong with her?”

  Mike’s brow furrowed and his beautiful blue eyes were piercing. “Why would you think that?”

  “Well, I don’t see any engagement ring.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Katie poked her head out of her tack room and squealed with glee at what she thought she heard. “You’re going to ask Nadia to marry you? That’s so exciting!”

  Katie ran over to Mike and Skylar, jumping up and down and standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around everyone. Skylar, however, looked less than pleased. As I studied her face, I hated to admit that she was beautiful and I could see how Mike might’ve been attracted to her before we’d me
t. Even with her brooding, stormy blue eyes and full, pouting lips, she was pretty.

  “No,” Mike tried frantically to squelch Katie’s exuberance. “We’re not engaged yet. I just, I mean, she doesn’t know—“

  “Doesn’t know what?” Gretchen asked sweetly. Pete scarfed down the last of his chili dog and noisily smacked his lips as he licked his fingers. Madeline and I gave him the same glower at his lack of manners but Gretchen either overlooked or didn’t notice.

  “Nothing,” Mike said desperately.

  “Oh! Right,” Katie giggled. She locked her mouth with an imaginary key and put it in her pocket. “Nothing.”

  Gretchen looked annoyed. “Keeping secrets, are we?”

  “It’s not that,” Mike tried to calm her. “It was just about Nadia.”

  “Well? What about her?” Gretchen pressed, folding her bronzed arms in front of her stomach.

  Skylar blurted out, “He can’t seem to decide if Nadia is marriage material or not.”

  “What?” Gretchen snapped, revving from content to irate as only she could do. “Since when have you thought you were too good for Nadia? ‘Cause she’s got just as much going for her as you do.”

  Madeline sprang in front of her sister, taking the news differently, and, like Katie, began screeching wildly. Mike ran a hand down his face and drew a deep breath while my own heart raced. This subject hadn’t come up recently in any of our precious time together. We were always so exhausted and just happy to see each other that deep topics never seemed to come up. I loved Mike without a doubt, but were we ready for the ultimate level of commitment?

  “It’s not that. I was hoping when it did happen, it would be a surprise. For everyone, especially Nadia. I want it to be, I don’t know, special.”

  With impeccable timing, Winny walked into earshot with Mom and asked simply, “Special for what?”

  No one spoke. Mike rubbed the back of his neck while everyone else kicked their toes at pebbles scattered on the concrete or pretended not to hear. I looked at Skylar and for a moment, felt pity. If I wasn’t mistaken, glistening tears rimmed her big blue eyes and beneath her freckles, her skin turned pink. She latched Chao’s door and sped out of the barn.