We galloped through the dark forest, the only light coming from the moon, which faintly illuminated the towering trees ahead. It slowed our progress a little, and Charles rode ahead of me, breaking the path in silence. From time to time, he turned back to make sure I was still there, that I was all right. What he could not know was that even though I followed him without a word, my heart was pounding so violently I thought even the wild beasts would hear it before they heard the rhythm of my horse's hooves.
Fear crept beneath my skin, filling every fiber of my being with the tension born from the night's events. I hadn't even had time to grieve; I was running from something I didn't understand, something I couldn't name—and the only solid ground beneath me, the only hope I could cling to, was Charles, riding ahead through the shadows. I had no idea where we were going, nor how far our destination might be—or if I would even live to see the dawn.
I don't know how long we rode through the depths of the forest; I had completely lost all sense of time. But then Charles began to slow, and I followed suit. He stopped his gray horse, swung down in one smooth motion, and helped me dismount.
"What happens now?" I asked him at once.
"We rest for a while. The horses are exhausted, and, by the looks of it, you could use some sleep as well," he said, tying the reins to two nearby trees.
"What if they catch up to us?" I whispered desperately.
Charles didn't look frightened—and somehow that calm spread to me too, if only a little.
"They won't. We've gained enough distance, and if everything went according to plan, the coachman led them off our trail. Besides, in this darkness, they'll have a hard time finding us. We just need to stay quiet."
He began unloading the horses—bags first, then everything else that might weigh them down. From one of the sacks, he pulled out a blanket and handed it to me. I wrapped it tightly around my shoulders, grateful for the warmth as the night air bit at my skin. Charles did the same, then unwrapped a small bundle of bread from a piece of cloth and handed it to me. We ate in silence.
"Sleep, Princess. I'll keep watch," he said once he swallowed his last bite.
"And when will you sleep?" I asked, worried.
"Don't concern yourself with me. I can endure anything," he replied simply.
I truly didn't know a stronger man than Charles. His build was massive, bear-like, and rumor had it he could tear a wolfhound in two with his bare hands. Many feared him, but I had admired him all my life. He had been there since my childhood, watched me grow up, always standing in the shadows when I needed him most. He was my father's right hand, his confidant—but he guarded me as if I were his own daughter.
I nodded to show I understood, and didn't even try to argue. I did exactly as he said. I moved to the base of a large tree, spread the blanket beneath me, then wrapped it around my body and rested my head on a moss-covered root. Exhaustion swept over me within moments, and though I tried to fight it, to keep my eyes open, I finally surrendered to the heavy pull of sleep.
I was holding a brush, drawing a long, dark stroke across the paper before me, blending shades of brown and black together. The fire crackled in the hearth beside me; I often stayed until the wood had burned to glowing embers, watching them flicker and shift for long minutes afterward. The sight fascinated me—I wanted to reach out, to touch it—but Father had taught me never to do such things, that fire would burn and hurt terribly.
From outside came the whinny of horses, then the creak of carriage wheels rolling over gravel. I jumped up from the rug and ran excitedly to the entrance hall. I always loved when guests came; it didn't happen often, but when it did, my heart nearly burst from my chest with joy.
Father appeared at the top of the staircase, descending slowly, his gaze fixed on me.
"Father, guests have arrived!" I cried, clapping my hands and jumping in place—but stopped immediately when he scolded me.
"Carina, enough! A princess does not behave that way!" His voice carried the same firm tone it always did when he corrected me. And slowly, I learned what it meant to act like a princess.
I lowered my head, composed my expression into the serious look my governess had taught me, and placed my hands neatly by my sides. Father gave a small nod of approval, silently reminding me to keep that posture.
The butler opened the great doors, and in stepped a tall man wearing a hat, with a red-haired woman by his side. They approached my father, exchanged a few words, and moments later, a young man appeared in the doorway. He shook Father's hand politely, then his curious gaze found me. His eyes were a brilliant sky-blue, studying my face intently before he took a few steps closer.
"Princess! Princess!"
A deep voice pierced the air, and my eyes flew open like bullets from a gun.
Charles was crouched beside me, trying to wake me as gently yet urgently as possible, but I was still trapped in the remnants of my dream.
"We have to move! I heard noises from the other direction. I fear the coachman didn't make it—they're on our trail," he said. There was not a trace of fear in his eyes, but I knew that even an army would not make him flinch if it meant protecting me.
In an instant, I was on my feet. He guided me toward the horses and helped me back into the saddle. He had already repacked everything; only my blanket remained, which he quickly tucked away before mounting his own horse.
Then I heard it too—a distant crack echoing through the trees. My stomach clenched so tightly it felt no bigger than a pea. That was all it took for Charles to spur his horse forward, and I followed close behind.
It was only then I noticed dawn breaking—the first rays of sunlight piercing through the branches. Yet the forest was no less frightening in daylight, for the knowledge that we were being hunted stole all my strength and courage, leaving only fear behind.
Father's words echoed in my mind.
It is a curse!
But I had no idea what kind of curse he had meant.