Fairy Tale Wedding (Book One: The Road to Ever After)

Chapter Four

Four hoofs beat the dirt roads of Fairy Tale with careless ferocity. Sweat beads and its white coat caused the horse to shine in the blinding, afternoon sun. The stallion raced through valleys, forests and streams at its master's intense bidding. The pair moved so fast across the wide expanses they missed the beautiful landscape surrounding them. Towns and villages hardly noticed them fly through, except for the dirt that rose and then sleepily fell in their wake.

Prince Darrik of Ever After kept a firm grip on the reigns. He was inclined to lean forward next to his horse's mane in sheer exhilaration. Mindless speed was all he asked of life. He would slow down when he grew old. No one would ever be able to accuse Prince Darrik of wasting his youth while he was young.

"That's the a Time River on our left, sire. Not long now," Knightley informed his prince without gasping or throwing off the rhythm of his gallop. His athleticism was evident in every movement of his bulging muscles. This noble steed knew his duty and performed it to perfection.

Prince Darrik tossed his brown hair out of his eyes. He, like most of his gender, enjoyed the wind against his face as he rode along Fate's highway. Atop his leather saddle, he felt like all authority and adventure were his for the taking. Adrenaline worked wonders upon the caged and spoiled mind of a prince. Freedom was the name of the game. And really, that's all this strange brew called life was – a game. Toss of the dice, turn of the tables, what would be was bound to be. Why worry? Prince Darrik chose to ride through life with a sunny lack of seriousness.

"This is the life, Knightley," Darrik sighed.

"This, sire?" Knightley asked. "You don't want anything more from life than a good gallop?"

"Always so literal," Darrik shook his head. That was the trouble with everybody. They all tended to become wrapped up with their simple cares and affairs. His father was obsessed with the budget, the cook with whatever meal was next and the gardener with the plans for next season's topiaries. They were incapable of stepping back and laughing at how huge they made trivial troubles. Prince Darrik was not about to follow their example. Others cursed 'escape' as a selfish luxury; for Darrick, it was the only means of maintaining one's sanity.

Before Darrik realized what was happening, Knightley was rearing up with a high-pitched whinny to wake sleeping dogs. Darrik's eyes grew in alarm as he clung hand and thigh to his mount. Thankfully, he was an expert horseman. He maintained his seat with the steady-headedness and chivalry of a paramount Prince Charming (in fact, it was part of Creature Magazine's criteria in selecting the man of the year).

Knightley settled down to the ground with grace, moving a few hoofsteps backwards. Darrik gave the white stallion a reassuring pat. The prince then looked down to see the cause of their near collision.

Standing in the middle of the road was an offended young woman. She glared up at the pair with emerald eyes. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she tapped her simply shod foot on the dirt path. Angry did not begin to describe this lady's emotion. Darrik inspected the scene and finally understood her chagrin. A basket lay upside down in the dirt, surrounded by freshly cut flowers now ruined.

"Oh," Darrik said. "My apologies, milady. We didn't see you there."

She let out a curt "Ha" and rolled her eyes. "Of course you two never saw me. You couldn't see anything but a blur at the rate you were going! This is a public road, gentlemen. I don't mind you breaking your own necks off the beaten path, but it is totally unacceptable to do so where others may get trampled."

With that she swooped to the ground and began to collect the floral catastrophe. Her ivory hands mournfully picked up and brushed off each lost work of nature's art. Prince Darrick might have felt sorry for her had she used a different tone to convey her exasperation. No one ever spoke to him in this manner, never ever. Clearly the poor, sheltered girl did not know the identity of the charmer she was addressing. In such a case, he could be forgiving. It was important to open the girl's eyes to the danger she was placing herself in by speaking thus to a prince.