Three hours.

Three hours since Alteus betrayed him—three damn hours that he couldn’t pick the damn lock. His wrists are raw, the corners of the metal cutting into his wrists. This was torture—hell—a nightmare.

There was a chance he’d never see Deely again.

With each passing minute, regret seeps into his bones. He should have fought harder, tried to convince Alteus to let him go. But he didn’t—he agreed that the man was right—letting Deely go would be best for everyone involved.

Radjerd had to disagree. He had to find Freydis, get Deely out of her grasp. Before she was shipped to the Palace of St. Antilla.

He couldn’t lose Deely. He didn’t know what she was to him, but he mattered enough to her that he wouldn’t let her suffer. He had tried everything—the moon was high in the sky—he could see it through the propped window. Even if he escaped, he couldn’t fit through the damp crevice. God, he was an utter fool. How could he let himself get captured, just to be at the whims of Freydis—taking a woman who mattered to him—yes, the money was important—but… Radjerd kicks the post out of frustration. He couldn’t believe the turmoil that he was subjected to, or, why he was tortured in this impossible way. Deely, god, he could still imagine her rose-tinted skin, her hair smelling like vanilla lavender. Whatever the feeling was, he was intoxicated by her. It was frustrating beyond belief—his entire life he had wished to be free from the shackles of his craft—to live a normal life, just how his ma wanted. If he could kill the Princess, he could have that life. It would have been perfect. Why couldn’t she have been a noblewoman—at least then the entire country of Wellspring wouldn’t be looking after her! Maybe the two of them could have had a simple life—she seemed to be content with how her life was now. To give up the comforts of being a Princess, living like this… Her situation must have been poor.

Dammit, he had to find Freydis and convince her to stop—there had to be another way!

He looks around the room, carefully seeing what he could use as leverage to escape.

Radjerd freezes when he hears light footsteps—they could only belong to a woman. Judging by the swift nature of her entry, it’s obviously Melandra—one of the last people he wanted to see. She's the wife of the man who betrayed him.

<Radjerd, please don’t look at me like that.> The smell of Chicken Chowder wafted through the air—she had brought him his meal. Seeing how she was standing, he expected that she’d try to feed him. How demoralizing…

<It was rather dumb of your husband to leave you down here with me.>

<Radjerd. You’d never hurt me—I know that.>

Radjerd narrows his violet eyes, she’s bloody right. He wouldn’t have attacked Melandra—she didn’t do him any harm. Dammit, he still had his sensibilities.

<Listen—I was just as surprised as anyone when Alteus told me that Deel was the Princess of Wellspring. That in itself was jaw-dropping. But I can’t help but wonder—what was your relationship with her? I know that the two of you aren’t married—that much is clear—but why go through all that effort to protect her?> Melandra mixes the chicken chowder. <Unless there were real feelings there.>

<It’s complicated.> He frowns.

<Alteus wouldn’t tell me the whole story behind all of this, but I’m hoping you will.> She examines him carefully as she sits down on a crate near the doorway, the bowl of chowder resting on her palm. <How did this start?>

<Freydis and I were commissioned by this man who hardly revealed his face. He claimed to be the King of Wellspring’s bastard. I figured he was full of shit—but Freydis thought it could be promising. She has always had better intuition than I ever did. So we made a deal—he was a successful guild leader who laundered money through estates—he ended up to be quite a wealthy man. But he wanted more power—and killing the princess seemed to be next on his conquering list.>

<But how does one know if they’re a king’s bastard?>

<He claims that he looks just like the king, but I’ve never seen him. I suppose I’d only know if I saw the king himself—he had fair hair like Deely does, but fair-haired people walk all around Wellspring.> He lowers his brows, rolling into a sigh. <I suppose there’s no point in asking you to help me escape, is there?>

Melandra slips a hand into her pocket. <That’s exactly what I wanted to do. I like Deel, and from the sounds of things—she doesn’t belong in that stuffy palace. Maybe you can convince Freydis to stop her plan, we can bring Deel here—come up with a new idea. I’ll talk to Alteus, so there’s no need to worry.

<Thank you.> Radjerd’s elated as she slips the key from her pocket, unlocking the cuffs binding him. Radjerd stretches as he feels the chains of his predicament fall from his wrists. He eyes the bowl of chowder, taking it from the hand of Melandra, sipping it before he took his leave. It was hot, but he didn’t care.

She hands him a dagger. <Only use this when you have to.>

He hooks the weapon on the belt of his trousers. <I will.>

***

Cordelia is able to move once again when she comes to, realizing that she’s stowed away on a back of a carriage—her thoughts piecing together what Freydis had said. She likely bought the carriage from the jewels she had in her satchel. The dirty road kicked dust behind them—she had seen far worse within her wake. She’s able to move this time! She keeps herself carefully situated in the carriage, afraid to make any movements. She could hear both Freydis and Branton in the front, chatting about the tough road ahead—they had to turn back. Cordelia holds her breath, closing her eyes when Branton takes a glance behind him, his amber eyes warm on her frame—Cordelia pretends that she’s fallen asleep, taking great care in her movements. She didn’t know where she was, but if she could roll away from the carriage without notice, she might be able to escape.

She couldn’t go back to Wellspring—especially with people on the lookout for her.

Cordelia isn’t sure how she’s going to break away—It was likely that Freydis would stop the carriage immediately once she discovered her missing. She had to be smart about it.

If there was a bump in the road—she might be able to escape that way. Cordelia inches away from the corner, using her arms to move forward—she’s fortunate that she wasn’t tied up. If it were Cordelia’s guess, it was to avoid suspicion, just like the thief—Cordelia’s stops herself for letting out a distressed moan—he had saved her before—but he wouldn’t be able to now. She had to save herself—something she wasn’t sure she was capable of doing. She takes a deep breath, rolling forward as, by pure magical coincidence, a bump in the road sends her flying out of the carriage and onto the dirt road. Her limbs were sore from impact, but Cordelia pulls herself up. She had a hard time recognizing the surroundings, but the wooded was hard-tipped that they had crossed the border. Cordelia doesn’t have time to ponder, allowing her legs to carry her into a sheltered area. She knows Freydis would discover Cordelia’s disappearance quickly, so she had to move—now.

Cordelia hears the carriage stop, her actions have to be quick. She knew it wasn’t possible that she’d escape, but she’d take any delay she could. If her mother found her in her current state—god knows what she’d do. There would be little that her father could do to prevent her fate—he was too much in love with the Queen to say no.

Even if it was futile, Cordelia had to try.

She spots a great oak tree—her climbing was atrocious, but her goal was to keep Freydis and Branton distracted for as long as humanly possible. She attempts to grab the first branch but is caught immediately by Branton’s grip. Dammit, he’s just too strong!

<I’m sorry.> He speaks softly, despite Cordelia’s curses.

<Get her back in the carriage, now! We don’t have much time before the guards spot us.> Freydis hisses, waving at him to bring her forward immediately.

Cordelia wriggles against the man’s grip, finding that he loosens with each movement—wait a minute. Cordelia gets a glimmer of hope—that could only mean one thing. She accidentally moves her hands against his belt, triggering him to shudder. Even though he was working with Freydis, he was still very attracted to her. She would save her moment, then use this to her advantage.

The three of them stop—three knights appear from the wooded path, immediately inspecting the cart.

<Shit.> Freydis mutters. <We have to fall back—now that the damn reward is out, anyone’s going to lose their minds if they find the Princess.>

Cordelia freezes, knowing that calling out to the knights wouldn’t help her fate—in fact, it would seal it further. She hated to admit it, but staying with Freydis would be her best bet. Even the woman appeared smart enough not to make any sudden movements.

Now it was Cordelia’s turn to make demands.

<You better turn back now, or I’m going to make sure that the knights know that your band tried to kill me.>

<If you do that, I will take your precious Radjerd with me.>

Cordelia’s about to raise her voice but silences it immediately when the knights discover her location. The emblem on their armour strike Cordelia as odd—that group was her mother’s personal entourage. It couldn’t be.

<Are you really going to test that theory?> Freydis raises a brow. Even clenched at the razor’s edge, Freydis was still willing to barter. This woman was truly worth her gutsiness. Her henchman Branton still had his arms secure around the Princess’ frame—she was hard pressed to move. Except—that silver moonlit hair she sees from the approaching carriage is a dastardly one.

Her sharp green eyes bore through the wooded area like sharp blades—three knights on each side of her. The silver-green gown she wears is highlighted by the moon, her presence undaunted.

It was the scariest sight Cordelia could have ever laid her eyes upon.

Standing before the band of thieves, is her mother.

Cordelia’s heart sinks to the bottom of her gut. Her fate is sealed.

Forever.