William looked away sharply, frustration burning hot and tight beneath his skin, every movement stiff with the effort not to show how much it stung.

It wasn’t even his horse, only one of the stable’s younger geldings Mr. Hayes insisted he learn on before he would be trusted with Apollo, his own spirited stallion.

That was when Violet, Mr. Hayes’s daughter, appeared in the wide doorway, her skirts dusty from the yard. She was only ten, all black curls and thoughtful green eyes, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose from too many afternoons in the sun. When she smiled, he noticed the small gap where one of her front teeth was missing.

"You gave up too quick," she said softly.

His eyes narrowed, the sting of her words pricking deeper than he wanted to admit. "What do you know of it? You're only a child."