A dull ache throbbed against Helia's skull, and a chill ran across her skin. The damp scent of earth filled her nostrils as she slowly regained consciousness.
Her eyelids fluttered, her blurred vision struggling to clear. Her senses, still numb, caught only fragments of sensation: a gentle breeze brushing against her skin, a few rays of sunlight grazing her face, and the fresh scent of greenery, gradually dispelling that of moist soil.
Then everything came rushing back at once.
The cliff. The Prince. The fall. Her last memory was reduced to a brutal embrace, the pressure of powerful arms around her, her body pressed against cold armor, and a heady, woody scent that had enveloped her just before darkness claimed her.
Her heart began to race violently, panic tightening her throat. She rolled slightly onto her side, searching for a familiar silhouette.
"Your Highness…" she murmured, her voice hoarse and uncertain.
The sound of footsteps on soft ground answered her. Then a shadow knelt beside her.
"You are awake."
Helia blinked, finally making out the Prince's features through the lingering haze of her vision. He was covered in dirt, faint scratches marking his face and his hair disheveled. Yet he appeared unbroken.
She wanted to speak, to ask what had happened after the fall, but a sharp pain shot through her arm and cut her short. A groan escaped her. Arthur immediately frowned.
"You landed on your shoulder. I do not believe it is broken, but you will have bruising."
Helia clenched her teeth and drew a shaky breath. She cautiously tried to move her fingers, and a wave of relief washed over her when they responded without excessive pain.
"How long was I unconscious?" she murmured.
"About twenty minutes," he replied calmly. He offered her his arm, helping her sit up before letting her lean against a tree."We fell from over twenty meters. The trees broke our fall."
He spoke with a composure that was almost disconcerting, his tone detached, as though having narrowly escaped death were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Helia's mind, still clouded, suddenly sharpened as a thought struck her. She shifted slightly away from the tree and whispered, her throat tight.
"But… no one saw us fall."
She lifted her eyes toward the cliff still visible above them, the vertiginous distance separating her from its summit weighing heavily on her thoughts. The rock face was nearly impossible to climb. Her heart raced. She abruptly turned her head from left to right, her gaze frantically searching their surroundings. Everywhere, trees as far as the eye could see, a dense, impenetrable forest.
Her eyes finally settled on the Prince, seated not far from her. He was calmly removing the shattered pieces of his black armor. His face was closed, neutral, as if the situation caused him no concern at all.
They were lost in the heart of the forest, a territory surely infested with dangerous creatures, and she had no news of her knights.
The image of one of them being carried off before her eyes resurfaced, twisting her stomach with dread.
Was he even alive?And Sir Aldric… she had left him alone against two chimeras.What if they had overwhelmed him? Worse still, what if the camp had been attacked in their absence?Her father and her brother… if they were told she had disappeared, would they believe her dead?
A shiver ran down her spine.
"How are we going to get out of here?" she breathed, a muted panic creeping into her voice.
Arthur raised his eyes toward her. He paused for a moment, his hands resting on a piece of armor he was about to remove from his shoulder. He could see panic taking hold of her. Yet he returned his attention to his armor.
"Calm yourself," he said simply. "I know this forest by heart."
With a sharp motion, he tore the broken piece of armor from his shoulder. She flinched slightly, but he continued in the same even tone. "We need only follow the cliff. We will eventually come upon a slope that will lead us back to the top."
Those words eased part of the anxiety gnawing at her. Clinging to that glimmer of hope, she began to rise despite the sharp pain in her bruised shoulder.
"Then… let us go."
She grimaced as she forced her body to comply.
Yet the Prince did not move. He stopped her, looking at her with unwavering calm.
"That would be pointless. Do you not see that the sun is setting?"
She froze at his words and instinctively lifted her eyes toward the sky. Between the towering treetops, she caught sight of the golden orb half-swallowed by the horizon.
"But…" she began.
He sighed, passing a hand over his arm, as though weighing his words.
"As you may have noticed, my sword did not follow us during the fall. The forest will soon be too dark for us to see anything… and creatures far worse than the chimeras that attacked us hunt at night."
She looked at him in disbelief, utterly speechless. She struggled to follow his reasoning. One moment, he reassured her; the next, he painted an even more terrifying picture.
Prince Arthur continued, unperturbed, "We will have to spend the night here. We will resume our journey at dawn. The path to the slope will take several hours, so rest."
Still stunned, Helia sank back against the trunk of the tree, her thoughts in disarray.
"But… you just said there would be dangerous creatures at night!" she protested, confusion evident in her voice.
He rose, brushing dust from his cloak.
"I will light a fire. That will keep them at bay." He turned away without waiting and took a few steps. "I am going to gather wood. Do not move from here."
She watched him disappear between the trees, unable to reply.
Drawing a deep breath, she tried to steady herself after his departure. She was alive. Almost unscathed. Which, after all she had endured, was nothing short of a miracle.
Resolving to regain her composure, she examined herself more carefully. She ran her hands over her face, searching for any abrasion. Nothing. Her shoulder still ached, but the pain was bearable. She noticed several bruises on her arms and legs, as well as a wide, bleeding scratch on her leg—but nothing too alarming. Her dress was damaged, smeared with dirt and torn in places, though fortunately not enough to compromise her modesty.
She lifted her gaze toward the canopy above. The trees were immense, their dense, interwoven foliage forming a vault of greenery that filtered the fading light.
Black oaks, she recognized by their gnarled trunks and thick, dark leaves. If they had cushioned her fall, she should have been covered in scratches, and yet her face was untouched.
Her last memory struck her suddenly. The pressure of the Prince's arms around her. Her face buried against his neck, and that gentle woody scent that had enveloped her just before she lost consciousness. Heat rushed to her cheeks. He had shielded her with his own body at the moment of impact.
The Prince's return abruptly pulled her from those embarrassing thoughts. He emerged from between the trees, his arms laden with branches. Helia then realized she had yet to thank him for saving her life, and for protecting her from the impact of the fall. But as she watched him, a detail suddenly caught her attention.
Blood.
Fine crimson droplets beaded along his abdomen. The dark hue of his clothing and the impassivity of his expression had rendered the wound almost invisible. But now that she saw it, she could no longer ignore it.
She sprang to her feet and rushed toward him, trying to take the branches from his arms.
"Your Highness, you are wounded!"
He stepped back slightly, preventing her from approaching.
The Prince fixed her with an unreadable gaze, clearly surprised by her reaction. Following her lowered eyes, he glanced at his own bloodied side, then turned away with nonchalance.
"It's just a scratch," he replied neutrally, before stepping around her and continuing on his way.
She stared after him, stunned. Drops of blood fell silently to the ground, marking his path. Ignoring it entirely, he gently set the branches down and knelt to prepare the fire, as though nothing were amiss.
"But, Your Highness, it could be serious."
She stepped forward again, but he raised his head and cast her a cold, authoritative look.
"I told you it is unnecessary," he cut in firmly. "It is neither my first nor my last superficial wound. Do not concern yourself," he added.
She clenched her teeth. Protesting would visibly serve no purpose. Yet she could plainly see it was not a mere scratch. Bleeding so steadily could not be ignored. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away. The Prince, absorbed in his fire, paid her no further attention.
Helia knew yarrow grew abundantly in this forest. She had gathered it before while preparing the venom remedy, and the certainty brought her a small measure of comfort. After a brief search, she finally spotted the small white flowers nestled among the roots of an oak. She knelt and carefully pulled several stems free before slowly returning to their improvised camp.
She settled slightly apart, near a flat stone and began to prepare the remedy. Yarrow could be used in several ways, but given their circumstances, she chose the quickest—crushing it to extract its sap.
Placing the flowers and leaves on the stone, she took a smooth pebble and ground them slowly. She gathered it with her fingertips and formed a coarse paste with the plant residue.
It was then that he, having just finished lighting the fire, finally lifted his head. His gaze settled on her, observing her in silence as she continued her work.
Once satisfied with her preparation, she turned her back to the Prince and sat comfortably, lifting the torn fabric of her dress slightly to reveal the wound on her leg. She applied the remedy, pressing the paste gently against her skin.
As she raised her eyes, she suddenly met his gaze. He immediately looked away, turning his attention back to the flames without a word. Helia calmly finished applying the remedy, covered herself, and leaned back against a tree.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire.