It feels like hours—maybe even days—have passed. I'm blindfolded, bound, and gagged. I sense movement, the rapid pitter-patter of horse hooves. I must be in a carriage, though I'm not certain. One thing is clear: I'm alone.
Thankfully, they let Emelia go. I pray she wasn't hurt when they tore her away from me. She'd clung to me desperately, refusing to let go. My throat tightens at the memory.
I have to stay strong.
This isn't the time for weakness.
I am the daughter of King Baylor—his death, and perhaps even mine, will not be in vain.
I try to think of my mother, of how she would coax me to hide around the palace garden during our little games. She'd tell me to pick somewhere new, somewhere she wouldn't find me—but I always went to the same spot: the gardener's shed. That's where I played with Orin, the gardener's son. I was five. Orin was a few years older but small and sickly, often bedridden. I'd sneak fruit, bread, and milk to him—whatever I could carry. The gardener's wife would worry about getting in trouble, but I was careful. Plus, I had an inside woman...
"Again, Rayni?" My mother scolded gently, using the pet name she'd given me. "I told you to hide!"
She found us again—me and Orin, playing a board game, food poorly hidden under his bed. Shaking her head, she knelt down and picked up the cloth I'd used to wrap the treats.
"You must be more careful, Rayni. Orin's parents could get in trouble," she warned softly. "Don't take cloth from the kitchen. I'll give you one of mine."
"You found me again, Mommy," I giggled.
"Only because you're awful at hiding, honey."
She was kind. So unlike my grandfather, my father, or even my brother. She told me I shared her heart—but also something she lacked: courage.
Tears burn in my eyes as I remember her words.
You were right, Mother. I am awful at hiding...
Suddenly, the carriage jolts to a stop. I tumble forward, hitting the floor hard. My nose absorbs most of the impact, and I taste copper. Footsteps. The blindfold is torn off. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust—it's dark. I've been bound in this carriage for a long time.
Someone unties my ankles but leaves my hands bound and my mouth gagged. A sliver of moonlight slices through the dark, illuminating half of Kaelen's face.
"Welcome back home, Princess," he sneers, voice dripping with venom.
I lift my chin in defiance. He's right—I am a princess.
With one arm, Kaelen drags me out of the carriage. My legs buckle from disuse, but I force them forward, one step at a time.
"Shall we escort her to the dungeon, Commander?" a soldier asks as we approach what I vaguely recognize as the Keep at Aureliath—our old castle.
"No. I'll personally keep watch over her," Kaelen replies curtly.
"As you wish, Commander. The funeral arrangements have been completed. You may oversee them when you're ready," the soldier says, bowing before stepping aside.
Funeral?
Who's funeral?
Kaelen keeps his gaze ahead, dragging me through the grounds. We reach the Manor House—a guest residence near the Keep, used only on occasion. Strange. Why bring me here?
As we approach the steps, the door swings open. A thin, stiff man with round glasses stands in the doorway, arms folded behind his back. He descends the steps and bows deeply.
"Lord Commander," he says.
I blink. Lord Commander? Wasn't that Craven Fenwyn's title?
"I see you've already avenged your father's death, and he's not even in the ground yet," the man sneers at me.
My eyes shoot to Kaelen. Craven Fenwyn is dead? He gives no reaction.
"Harlin, she'll be kept in private quarters until after the funeral. Then, we'll decide what to do with her," Kaelen orders, pulling me up the stairs.
"As you wish, Lord Commander," Harlin says, following us inside.
Servants pause their work to stare. Kaelen ignores them, leading me up the grand staircase and through the long corridors of the Manor. He stops before a grand door, adorned with peacocks and swans.
"Lord Comm—" Harlin begins, but Kaelen cuts him off with a sharp glance. Harlin coughs awkwardly. "Let me get that for you."
The doors open to a lavish suite. Kaelen pulls me into a side room and throws me face-first onto a bed. He removes the gag, then unties my wrists.
"You'll be given food and clean clothes," he states. "You are not to leave this room unless I permit it. And for your own sake, Princess, I suggest you follow orders. Otherwise…" He lets the threat hang in the air. "Let's just say, obedience is in your best interest."
"Obedience?" I spit.
"Yes," he growls through gritted teeth. "You do know how to be obedient… don't you, Princess?"
I bite my tongue. Now's not the time. I must choose my words carefully. Maybe while Kaelen is busy with Craven's funeral, I can find a way to escape.
"Even thinking of escape would be futile," Kaelen says, as if reading my thoughts. He flicks the discarded gag away and exits the room with Harlin, slamming the door behind him.