Try it alone now," he said. "I taught you when you were six. You were a fine little rider then. Do you remember?"

"No!" said Azalea.

"You remembered how to ride last winter," said the King quietly. He had his arms crossed. "You rode very well, one night last winter, if I remember."

The horse beneath Azalea shifted, and she clutched to keep her balance.

"That was nearly a year ago," she stammered.

"Some things are burned into one's memory."

The King helped her down gently onto solid ground, and didn't say another word.

Author: Heather Dixon Wallwork