Chapter 39

The first thing I noticed was the cold. It crept into my bones, gnawed at my skin, and made my head throb even more fiercely than before. My eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion, and I found myself staring at a jagged stone ceiling, dimly lit by the flicker of flames. A fire crackled a few feet away, casting fleeting shadows on the walls of a cave.

Sitting by the fire was a woman, her back to me, deftly arranging sticks into a neat pile. Her hands were quick and practiced, but her movements were silent, almost unnervingly so. I pushed myself up with a groan, clutching at my pounding head. My memories swirled in a chaotic blur—angry voices, the weight of the chains, the cliff, the dagger that glinted in the light.

My execution.

I gasped, my hands instinctively flying to my neck. It was bare—no chains—just the familiar smooth surface of the necklace I'd worn since childhood. Then my legs and my hands, sore but no chains. Relief coursed through me, followed swiftly by confusion.

"Did you... save me?" My voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper, but it echoed off the cavern walls.

The woman didn't respond, didn't even turn her head. She simply kept tending the fire, the light illuminating the dark waves of her hair.

"Hello?" I tried again, louder this time, though it made my head throb worse. "Who are you? Where are we? How did I get here?"

Still, no answer.

My frustration mounted, my voice rising. "You can't just ignore me! Please, I need to know—how did I escape? How am I alive?"

At last, she shifted, turning just enough for the firelight to catch her face. She was older than I'd thought at first, her eyes sharp and deeply lined with weariness. Her gaze fixed on me—not with hostility, but with something unreadable, something heavy.

"Where did you get that necklace?" she asked, her voice low and steady, the words measured.

I blinked at the unexpected question, my fingers instinctively curling around the pendant. "This? I've always had it. Ever since I was a child. Why?"

She said nothing, her expression giving away nothing.

"Do you know what it is?" I ventured. "Does it mean something? Anything?”

“Do you perhaps know who gave me this necklace?”

I asked again, hoping she somehow knew my parents.

Still, no response. Her silence was maddening, yet there was something about her presence—calm, unyielding—that kept me from pressing too hard.

I exhaled shakily, softening my tone. "Thank you... for saving me. Whatever you did, I'm grateful. Truly. But I need to go back. Back to Zaire."

At that, she turned fully to face me, her eyes narrowing. "Back?" she repeated, as though the word itself were an absurdity. "To the kingdom that ordered your death?"

The way she said it, with a mix of disbelief and faint disdain, made my stomach twist.

"Yes," I said hesitantly. "I don't—I don't belong here. My life, my husband, everything I know is there."

"You don't understand." Her voice was sharper now, tinged with something I couldn't place. "They would have killed you without a second thought, and yet you wish to return?"

Her words struck deep, like a stone dropping into a still lake, disturbing waters I hadn't yet dared to look into. The betrayal, the way I was taken away in chains, Isabelle Carstairs—they all flashed through my mind.

But the thought of leaving it all behind, of never returning... the thought of never seeing Rowan again. I couldn't. Could I?

"Why did you save me?" I asked softly.

For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then she turned back to the fire, her expression once more unreadable. "Because I had to," she said simply.

The flames danced between us, their warmth at odds with the chill that had settled in my chest

.................

The cavern walls were damp, their rough surfaces glowing faintly with the moss that clung to them. The nameless woman had left me here hours ago, her parting words echoing in my mind like a haunting refrain.

"If you value your safety, you won't leave this place."

My safety. How ironic. The very fabric of my life had unraveled in the past few hours—or was it days? Time had become a meaningless blur. Rowan's face hovered in my thoughts, a mix of determination and warmth. Was he looking for me? Surely, he must be. He wouldn't let me disappear without a trace, would he?

He wouldn’t know where to start though. He would think that I was dead. I hopes he wouldn’t be too discouraged when he hears that they have ordered my execution.

I thought about my handmaiden if she was safe too. The Royal Concubine seemed hell bent on punishing her too for giving me a warning.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering not from the cold but from the gnawing doubt. Was I a fool to cling to the idea that he cared? My mind darted back to the countless moments we shared—the night we shared, whispered promises, and the way he always told me that he would always protect me. That couldn't have been a lie.

Before I could spiral further into my thoughts, the woman returned. She carried a small bundle of berries and a worn skin of water. She dropped them unceremoniously in front of me, her face unreadable.

"Eat," she said flatly.

Hunger won over caution. I seized the berries, their tartness bursting on my tongue as I devoured them, chasing each handful with greedy gulps of water. The woman watched me with a detached air, her arms crossed.

"Rest," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We move at dawn."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

Her lips twitched into a smirk, as though she had anticipated my resistance. "And what exactly do you plan to do, girl? Stay here and wait for death to find you?"

"I'll find my own way back," I shot back, though the quaver in my voice betrayed my uncertainty. "I'm married to Prince Rowan, and he—he must be looking for me. He'll come."

The woman barked out a laugh, sharp and cutting. "Married to the prince, are you? And he's searching for you, you say?" She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "If that's true, where is he? Why hasn't he come storming through the woods to rescue his precious wife?"

"He doesn't know I'm missing," I said quickly, clutching at the shred of hope that her words wouldn't unravel. "He'll—"

"He'll what?" she interrupted, her voice laced with scorn. "He'll save you? News from the castle says otherwise. After the Wolf Clan meeting, your dear husband is set to be reinstated as Crown Prince—with Lady Isabelle Carstairs on his arm."

The name hit me like a blow. Isabelle Carstairs. That didn’t make any sense. She was an exile. Why did Rowan agree to that? Or the king?

But it couldn't be true. I forced out a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to me.

"You're lying," I said, though my heart twisted painfully.

The woman shrugged, her smirk widening. "Believe what you want, girl. But I'll take you close enough to the city to see for yourself. The wedding celebrations will be hard to miss."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable. I wanted to deny her, to refute every claim, but doubt crept in like a slow poison.

Rowan wouldn't betray me. Would he?