Sighing, Jamil got out of his bed. If he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, he might as well go for a walk.
Or a ride. Yes, a ride might be exactly what he needed. Perhaps it would distract him from his headache and do something to the restless tension under his skin.
Feeling a little better at the prospect of a ride, Jamil slipped out of his rooms and headed toward the royal stables.
The palace was quiet at night. His mothers were likely already asleep in their wing, his sister was visiting a friend on another planet, and Seyn was likely still sulking in his rooms over his latest fight with his betrothed.
The only people Jamil came across were the guards and the occasional servant. They bowed to him hastily, hiding the surprise in their eyes.
Glancing down at his white nightwear, Jamil wondered if he should have changed into more appropriate clothes. It might be night, but he was still the Crown Prince. But fuck it; if he couldn’t be less than perfect in his own home in the middle of the night, he would go insane.
The night was a little chilly but nice.
The two moons, high in the sky, illuminated the grounds with their pale, bluish-silver glow.
Shivering slightly in his thin shirt, Jamil strode toward the stables.
That part of the palace was definitely not quiet. He could hear the sounds of the animals even from afar. The stables of the Third Royal House were one of the largest on Calluvia, and their zywerns were famous across the Union of Planets for their impeccable breeding and grace. The stables had always been Jamil’s pride and joy. Whenever he had free time, which wasn’t often, he came here to watch his zywerns or take one for a spin over the palace grounds.
He hadn’t been here since before his husband’s death, too deep in grief to even think about something that brought him joy. Maybe he was finally healing, a little.
The sound of a zywern’s cry made him snap his head toward the training enclosure nearby.
Jamil’s eyes widened.
There, behind the standard security force field fence, designed to hold back wild animals, a magnificent black zywern was bucking wildly, trying to shake off its rider. The sight was a little unnerving. A zywern wasn’t easy to ride even when it was already tamed. A wild one was a nightmare to handle. Jamil had tried to break an untamed zywern when he was an adolescent and had ended up with a back injury. The Queen had been beyond furious. You could have died, she had told him. Jamil knew she was right. It had been reckless of him. Even professional trainers struggled taming these beasts; his teenage self stood no chance.
Jamil looked from the zywern to its trainer. The lights around the training enclosure were bright enough, but from the distance, he didn’t recognize the man. Whoever he was, he was a hell of a rider. His seat was perfect, confident and steady despite the wild bucking of the powerful animal under him. As Jamil watched, the zywern’s bucking gradually lessened as it got tired. Finally, it seemed to give up trying to dislodge the man on its back.
The rider leaned down and murmured something into the zywern’s ear, stroking its quivering side. To Jamil’s astonishment, the man released the gravitational bindings on the zywern’s wings. Was he suicidal?
Immediately, the zywern bucked, sensing freedom, and took flight. Jamil was sure the man would be thrown off in an instant and break his neck. But, to his utter surprise, the rider managed to hold on as the zywern started trying to shake him off its back, flying erratically over the training enclosure, the force field the only thing preventing it from flying away.
Even despite his concern, Jamil had to admit the sight was awe-inspiring: a huge black beast with magnificent wings and a rider, also all in black, holding on stubbornly against all odds. Twin moons shone brightly in the night sky, illuminating the battle of wills between a man and a beast.
The man won.
Jamil watched in amazement as the man managed to make the zywern land, the animal breathing heavily and shaking but allowing the rider to get off its back without attempting to attack him.
He’d never seen anything like that. Taming wild zywerns took ages, not—not this. Professional trainers waited months between getting a zywern to stop bucking under its rider and attempting to fly it. It just wasn’t done.
Who was this man?
Frowning, Jamil strode toward the training enclosure. “Do you have a death wish?” he said as he approached the fence.
The man was kneeling, stroking the zywern’s quivering belly, his back to Jamil.
“Go away,” he said in a low, commanding voice.
Jamil stared at him in astonishment. No one dared talk to him in that kind of tone, much less his employees. This man likely didn’t know who he was talking to, or he wouldn’t dare.