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noseband.
    â€œOhmygod!” Issie stared at the awful halter in disbelief. Victory gave a horrified snort as Natasha lunged towards him with it, but he was too well-mannered to object as she shoved it on him.
    â€œIt’s from my new collection,” Natasha said proudlyas she did up the buckle on the purple monstrosity. “I have my own clothing and horsewear brand – we do saddle blankets and rugs and jods. It’s all purple and it has my initials on it.”
    Issie frowned. “Why would anyone want a saddle blanket with your initials?”
    Natasha gave Issie a withering look. “Get a clue, Isadora! I’ve got it all – footballer boyfriend, my own equestrian fashion line, party invitations from pop stars. And in four months’ time I’ll be riding at the Burghley Horse Trials.”
    â€œYou are kidding, right?” Issie couldn’t take this any longer. “Natasha, it’s not enough just to buy a good horse. You have to be able to ride it.”
    â€œI can ride,” Natasha sniffed.
    â€œNatasha, you don’t get it,” Issie was losing her cool. “This isn’t a game. The cross-country course at Burghley is dangerous even for professionals. I’ve spent years working my way up to this, riding the international circuit in preparation.”
    Natasha’s lips pursed like a cat’s bottom. “You think you’re just so special and fantastic, don’t you, Isadora? Well, you’re not. You won Badminton because you hada good horse – and now you’re turning bitter and mean because I’ve taken him off you.”
    Issie was horrified. “Natasha! Be realistic! You’ve hardly ridden since pony club. Victory makes it look easy but he’s a complicated ride…”
    â€œFor you maybe!” Natasha sneered. “But then I always was better than you. And now I’m going to prove it.”
    Natasha turned to her father. “OK, Dad. Let’s go!”
    Issie was exasperated. “Wait, Natasha. Listen, I can help you sort out his training schedule. You need to know about his feeding and his workouts and what tack we’ve been using…”
    Natasha gave her a look of utter disinterest. “I’ve got staff for that sort of thing. I don’t think we’ll be needing your input, thanks very much.”
    And with that, she pushed past Issie. “See you at Burghley,” she snapped.
    Oliver Tucker gave Issie a look of triumph and strode off behind his daughter who was now leading Victory away up the corridor. Tulia Disbrowe had been watching the whole exchange between the two girls, and looked completely shell-shocked.
    â€œI… I had no idea,” she stammered. “I thought the syndicate was giving the ride to a seasoned professional.”
    â€œYou had the right to sell him to whoever you wanted,” Issie said. “Isn’t that what you told me, Tulia? I hope the money makes you happy.”
    Tulia Disbrowe looked desperately apologetic, but there was nothing more she could say. She walked out of the stables alone, leaving Issie standing in the empty loose box.
    In the next stall down, Nightstorm watched his stablemate leave and gave a distressed whinny, pacing up and down behind the bars of the loose box.
    â€œHey, Storm, it’s OK.” Issie unbolted the door to his box and walked inside so that she could reassure the stallion. “I’ll miss him too, boy,” she said, stroking his neck and whispering softly. “It’s just you and me now.”
    At least the drama of Nightstorm’s colic was over. The bay stallion was all she had left in the lead-up to Burghley.

Chapter 7
    After Nightstorm’s bout of colic, Issie was worried sick that her horse would succumb to the dangerous condition again. She had been nervous about transporting him back from Badminton, fearing that the two-hour drive to Wiltshire would stress him out and cause a