"My lady..." Alice had opened the carriage's door, letting in light from behind her. I blinked, breaths irregular. 

She stared at me, eyes wide, eyebrows arched in both surprise and horror.

"How..."

Catching herself before she spoke further, Alice blinked and broke away from my gaze. She pressed her lips together and gave me a resolute look.

"No, I must fetch a physician."

"He's...!" I reached out, but she was already marching across the meadow, head spinning around as she frantically searched for the doctor.

I let my hand fall in surrender and turned to the clergywoman sitting across from me. She raised her head off her lap and gave me a tearful look. 

"I cannot even help you..." She moped, a long sob escaping her lips before she let her head fall back onto her lap to cry some more. 

I needed to calm the beating in my chest and prevent the tears from falling so uncontrollably. I sniffled, taking deep breaths as I pushed down the terror-inducing memories threatening to rise to the surface. I laid back against the wooden seat.

I can't deal with this right now. I don't have the time to be sad.

Right.

I have to think positively. Happy thoughts.

I closed my eyes.

Think happy thoughts.

Remember, Penelope, you’re adorned in gold right now. You’re beyond wealthy, even beneath your dirty, raggedy, smelly gown.

Delilah had insisted she couldn’t sneak in actual gold coins and decided to get jewelry instead. As a result, the blood circulation in my entire body has taken even more of a hit than my pathetic heart at the moment. 

Seven golden bracelets were under the sleeves, and exactly on the upper side of my arms. I might barely be able to feel my arms, but on a brighter note, each is adorned in fourteen thousand Keps! Furthermore, my corset was stuffed with two diamond necklaces worth twenty-five thousand Keps each. And that would have been enough for our original deal, had I not spotted the six rings on her fingers and the pretty earrings she wore.

With those also in my bra/corset, I am a proud, walking seventy to eighty thousand Keps.

Well, minus the golden bracelet gone to the coachman.

... What a waste that was.

I rested my head against the seat's back, relieved I could finally breathe again, at least through my nose. 

I wasn't very keen on acknowledging it, but since medical attention from someone else was currently impossible, and letting my injury fester would only lead to complications, I had to treat my jaw myself... And now seems like a good time to do it.

I put my fingers on it, examining for the pain. 

"Ow," I muttered, keeping my fingers away from my face as I took a deep breath. 

I wish I had an anesthetic right now. 

I've never done this for myself before, but I have treated several dislocated jaws in my past life.

Admitting to a past life is wild. 

I shook my head to drop the thought/panic.

I carefully manipulated the jaw, tightly shutting my eyes and lips to suppress the pained moans. I gently guided the lower jaw forward, then backward, applying controlled pressure to re-align the jaw bones. 

A few seconds in, I foolishly thought I was getting used to the bone-shuddering pain when my vision suddenly flashed white as I jerked my head against the seat and muffled a scream. I had made a false movement.

I slowly opened my left eye to check on the clergywoman, but she was too busy sobbing aloud to notice me. I sighed and wiped the blood leaking out of my mouth using the sleeve of my clothes. 

Once the dislocation was successfully reduced, I let out a smooth breath from my mouth, which I could now move slightly better.

I would typically recommend a jaw splint for myself, but I'm sitting in a wooden carriage lighted with a torch head hanging from the ceiling, parked in the middle of nowhere, so that's completely out the window.

I was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and feeling slightly lightheaded from the procedure. I firmly held my jaw with my palm while I scanned the fabric I wore. 

Perhaps I could rip some of it and use that...

My eyebrows arched upwards at the sight of some white silk fabric set on the wooden seat next to the clergywoman. 

New plan.

I hunched over carefully, hand-stretched and mouth drooling at the thought of the fabric's gentle touch against my cheeks. But, before I could snatch the fabric from the unnoticing woman's side, a sudden knock on the carriage's window made me jump back to my seat in surprise. 

I turned to the source, shivering at the sight of Commander Blert's silhouette through the dirty, vague glass. 

I opened the door, letting it slip from my grasp and open to its maximum width. He stood in front of the door while I stood on the staircase to the carriage's inside. For the first time, I stood eye to eye with him, which gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.

His arms rested by his hips, and his air was hard to read. 

Blert's gaze lowered, and he put his arm forward a little and gave a curtesy. My jaw itched with pain at the memory of its last encounter with this man's fist.

I looked left... and then right.

... Is he... He can't be... 

"Apologies for interrupting your peace, revered miss." He said.

"Do not fret it, brave soldier. I am undeserving of your kind regards." The clergywoman's frail voice sounded behind me, making me purse my lips. 

Of course, he's not talking to me. 

"You." He sternly met my gaze, his deep-set hazel eyes torched with grim delight. "Follow me." 

With those simple words, and without a second glance at me, he directed another curtesy at the elderly woman sitting in the carriage and marched towards the forest. 

"Why?" I asked, stiffening my facial muscles. "Sir." I added lightly. 

The commander's stride halted. He carefully spun to look back at me, his bushy, weirdly shaped eyebrows pulled together and his mouth in a downturned U. 

"Are you questioning orders, prisoner? You think you have such a right?" His eyes glared at me with a subtle earthy warmth, almost burning through my gaze. 

"N-Not that," I admitted, fearing for my remaining healthy bones. "... Fine," I mumbled, nose scrunched. I stepped down the stairs of the carriage and closed the door, my heartbeat loudening as I began to panic.

It's fine, Penelope.

I looked around the two of us, reminding myself that even within the forest, with the deadly silence that encirled this camp at the moment, everyone could hear me if I called for help. The other knights were within earshot, if not visible, and Alice would come looking for me soon. 

I wouldn't be alone with this guy. Not really. 

I swallowed, shuffling my feet across the wet soil, following in his stride. 

I attempted to memorize our path, but after endless minutes of marching on crispy leaves, I couldn't tell one tall tree from another. All I could see around us as the commander finally came to a halt was an identical replica of the same tree sample pasted around us too many times to count—tall trees with thin trunks and hat-like crowns. 

Each breath I took came in a shallow gasp as I pursued the Commander, each step echoing my growing paranoia. The forest seemed to close in around us, the birdsong eerily absent. I felt the weight of every tree, every bush as if the forest itself held its breath. 

The tents that were once within my perspective were now nowhere to be seen, I could no longer hear the rattling of furniture and the neighing of the horses. 

My heart rate was through the roof, my stomach was heating up from the anxiety and my eyes were shooting all around the plains, examining the place for any other presence. 

A small voice called to me from the very back of my head; 

'He knows.' It warned. 'He knows about your stupid pretense. You're fucked.' 

"Say it here." I stopped. "I'm not going to follow you further," I stated, chin held up. 

I can barely tell where we came from. I have nowhere to run. 

"Huh?"

With the same air of condescendence from earlier, the commander turned around to look down at me. He bared his yellow canines at me as he snarled;

"Did I hear that aright?" He was now facing me, cocking his head to the side. "You shan't follow me anymore, you say?"

"... No."

"Really now?"

"I won't." I shook my head, as though to insist upon my response. "We're isolated enough. You can speak now, Sir." My attempt at sounding polite was ineffective, given the unfazed snarl on his face. 

The commander paused a moment, as though pondering the matter. His lips turned into a thin line as he stepped closer to me. 

Before I could react, within two strides, I was not only within reach but within his hold, as he grabbed my arm and yanked me to the ground. 

I yelped, closing my eyes as I landed on the ground, beside the foot of a tree trunk.

Shit. 

Unconsciously, I looked around, examining the area for people. For help. 

We're alone. We're alone. You're alone. 

My chest rose and fell at an increased pace. The spot where his skin came in contact with mine was itching painfully, so much so that I had to press on it with my firm palm. 

My vision traveled between being blurry and clear, blinking heavily.

"Sure. Let's talk right here." He knelt to meet my height. 

The image of the Commander's shade-covered silhouette, breathing warm huffs into my face overlapped with the one from my memory. 

My heart shriveled slowly within my ribcage.

The same distance separated the commander and me, the same feeling smothered my throat, and the same horrifying silence shrouded the woods around us as the one that detained me that day. 

"Tell me, prisoner." The commander's nutty breath crashed against my face, making my stomach churn. "I am so curious." He leaned in even closer, teeth gritted. "Do you take me for a fool?"

A nerve was throbbing on his forehead, and I fought to keep my hands from trembling and my expression neutral. 

"Sir," I began, but my voice faltered. "S-Sire... I would never," I declared.

"Ha!" He jerked his head back. "You, with the scant knowledge gained from the mere two books you have read, think to outwit me? A fucking division commander, with a feeble tale about relieving yourself? Ha!" He laughed again, his yellowed teeth bared in a furious grin. 

"Listen," I tried to reason with him, ignoring the chills crawling up my spine as he reached for an object on his waist. "I can explain. I promise." 

I can't outrun him.

I can't call for help. 

I can't fight back. 

It's alright. I can just try and convince him.

If I tell him the truth... Maybe he'll believe it. The truth might convince him. The truth is...

"Listen, to tell you the truth, I'm..." My voice caught in my throat as I looked up to meet his gaze. "I'm not the person you think I am..." I stuttered, my vision blurring with the sensation of the ground wobbling beneath me. "I didn't commit the crimes. I'm... I know- I know you must have noticed that I'm- I'm different. Maybe if you knew her, I mean me, before this you could tell." The words were itching to leave my throat. How fucking much I wanted to say it. "M-My name isn't Ashdown, it's... It-It's Hor—" 

... What are you doing?

Penelope, stop crying like an idiot.

"I'm..." My eyes blurred with tears as the words left my lips. "I swear... I'm innocent." Warm tears rolled down my face.

I didn't raise you to be this weak.

Blert cocked an eyebrow, looking slightly confused.

Since when did honesty work anyway? Backtrack. Backtrack. What the fuck are you doing?

"What I mean is..." I looked up at him, trying to seem as innocent as possible, letting the tears drip off my eyes to clear my vision. "I didn't bribe the coachman. I would never try to run away. So I'm innocent."

"Interesting... I never said you bribed anybody, Miss Ashdown." The corners of his mouth curled up.

My mouth stood paralyzed as the realization dawned on me. 

"Not that I needed to know, for the coachman has already recounted your little misadventure to me. Trusting an old fool with a job to lose and a family to feed, all for a bit of coin you offered him. How fitting it is of your character." A wicked grin spread across his face. "Miss Ashdown."

My eyes widened at the sensation of a dagger’s sharp edge against my neck. 

“I—I am a prisoner of the Empire,” I stated. I don't even know what that means. “You cannot kill me. You will hang... Please...” 

The commander grinned.

“And who said I was going to kill you, wench?” He pressed the dagger against my skin.

He leaned in closer, whispering the words into my ear; 

“I shall slit your throat just deep enough to ensure that you survive but can never again speak with that sweet voice of yours. I shall leave you in such peril that, conveniently, only with the aid of our two available medics could you even hope to survive... You know, you should not feel too badly about your little misadventure. If anything, it was an opportunity to see a bit of the world’s light, for today would have been the day you died either way."

The smugness in his voice made me grit my teeth.

Thinking about how I'm facing death again after so many promises to make it out alive this time, to create a new life for myself and ensure I survived fueled me with such hatred. Hatred I don't even know where to direct.

There must be some irony to how trivial my life is, no matter where or who I am, to how fucking incompetent and pathetic I am every time I need to save myself...

There was some bitterness to my knowing full well that no one would bat an eye once I passed, just like the last time.

"So you're killing me or not?" I couldn't help but mutter. 

"Let us find out, shall we not?" An annoyed huff crashed against my neck before he jerked his head back and dug the dagger into my neck.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if I were already dead; the air in my lungs ceased to exist, and all I could see was the pleasure in his widened eyes as he held my gaze.

In an ideal world, I would possess the reflexes to deflect his blow and attack him suddenly, then run and prevail heroically. 

But I don't. 

All I could do was watch this moment unfold, determined only by the thought that this man was despicable, unrecyclable waste and that perhaps there could be a way to survive a slash wound to the neck in this world. Magic exists here after all.

Maybe, just maybe, I could survive this, too. 

Eyes wide, pupils locked with Blert's vicious browns, the blade's edge dug into the fleck of my neck, poised to carve a horizontal line across my throat.

I should have died then.