They ran for hours through the frozen forest, the sound of pursuit fading into the distance but never fully disappearing. Kieran moved with the confidence of someone who knew these woods intimately, leading Elara along paths invisible to her untrained eye.
When they finally stopped, it was in a small clearing where a decrepit hunter's cabin stood half-collapsed against the elements. Kieran quickly surveyed their surroundings before pushing open the door.
"Inside," he commanded. "We have maybe an hour before they widen their search pattern."
Elara stumbled into the cabin, her body finally registering the cold now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She was shaking uncontrollably, whether from cold or shock she couldn't tell.
Kieran struck flint against steel, coaxing a small fire to life in the ancient hearth. The warm light revealed his face more clearly, sharp features softened by something that might have been concern.
"Here." He tossed her a wool blanket that smelled of cedar and age. "Warm yourself. We'll need to keep moving soon."
Elara wrapped herself in the blanket, but the cold she felt went deeper than her bones. "My family is dead," she said, the words feeling strange in her mouth, as if speaking them in a different language. "Everyone is dead."
"Yes," Kieran said simply. There was no false comfort in his voice, no platitudes. She found herself grateful for that.
"Who are you?" she asked again. "Really?"
Kieran was quiet for a moment, feeding small branches to the growing fire. "I was a soldier in your father's army. Five years ago, I discovered evidence of a conspiracy against the crown. Before I could present my findings, I was framed for treason and marked for execution."
"And my father?"
"Believed the lies. Or chose to, because the truth would have revealed how deeply the rot had spread through his court." Kieran's jaw tightened. "Lord Darius was always at the center of it. I've spent these years gathering evidence, building alliances, waiting for the right moment to act."
"You failed," Elara said bitterly.
"Yes." He met her eyes, and she saw genuine pain there. "I thought I had more time. I thought I could stop this before it came to blood. I was wrong."
Elara pulled the blanket tighter. "So what now? You save me out of guilt? Out of duty to a crown that no longer exists?"
"I save you," Kieran said, "because you are the rightful heir to the throne of Astoria. Because Darius's rule will bring nothing but suffering and tyranny. And because, unlike your father, you might actually listen when I tell you the truth."
"The truth about what?"
Kieran reached into his cloak and pulled out a small leather journal, its pages worn from much handling. "The truth about your family. About the magic that runs in your veins. About why Darius moved now, after years of careful planning."
Elara stared at the journal. "I don't have magic. The royal bloodline hasn't manifested magical ability in three generations."
"That's what everyone believes," Kieran said. "It's what your parents wanted everyone to believe. But three days ago, the stars aligned in a configuration that hasn't occurred in a century. The Awakening is coming, Princess. And you are at the center of it."
Before Elara could respond, a horn sounded in the distance, much closer than before.
Kieran was on his feet instantly. "Time's up. Can you run?"
Elara stood, her legs protesting but holding. She was a princess no longer. She was a survivor. And she would learn to be much more than that.
"Yes," she said. "I can run."
Kieran smiled, a fierce expression that promised both danger and hope. "Good. Because we have a long way to go, and a throne to reclaim."
They disappeared into the forest once more, leaving only dying embers behind.