The carriage rattled on, its wheels grinding against the frozen earth. Colden strained against the ropes, wrists raw, shoulders aching, but no matter how he pulled, the knots only cut deeper. His breath came in ragged bursts, frustration mounting into despair.
He turned his head toward Isabelle, her face lit faintly by the passing lanterns outside. "Where is Carmine?" His voice cracked, desperate.
Isabelle's eyes flickered, a flash of retaliation sparking. She pulled out a knife, the blade gleaming as she shoved it close to his throat. "Shut up," she hissed.
Her voice rose, sharp and venomous. "Why would you search for that peasant boy? He's already a bastard, probably well off dead. And you—" she sneered, "you waste yourself chasing ghosts."
Colden's heart broke. Tears welled as he shook his head, voice trembling. "No… don't you dare. He isn't dead. I feel it."
Isabelle's face twisted with fury. She reached into her cloak and pulled out the photoframe — Marco's image staring back at him. Colden's breath caught, fear flooding his chest. "No…" he whispered, trembling.
"This is him, isn't it?" Isabelle's tone was mocking, cruel. And before Colden could move, she hurled the frame out the window.
Colden screamed, his voice raw, his body collapsing into devastation. The sound of shattering glass echoed in his mind, louder than the wheels beneath them. His tears fell freely, his hope crumbling.
Isabelle leaned back, her smile thin. "Your playtime is over. We're going back to Windmere. You'll be thrown as the king, and I can finally leave."
Colden's eyes dulled, his voice hollow. "Yeah… like you always did."
Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
He turned his head, pain etched into every word. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You left me here with Carmine when I was six. Mother was gone, father died, and you left again. Nobody asked you why. Nobody asked where you went. You just left."
Isabelle's face hardened, but her lips faltered. "I… it's not like that, I—" she stuttered, appalled.
Colden's voice rose, trembling with grief and rage. "You never visited me in the last twelve years. And now you want to change me? You only came here because it was a problem for you. Because you knew this was my birthplace, my father's land. That's why you came. But you still couldn't figure it out."
His eyes burned, his voice breaking into defiance. "I love him."
Isabelle froze. Silence swallowed her words. Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden, as she turned her face away.
From the front of the carriage, Demure's voice called down. "Hey, mother… is everything alright down there?"
But Isabelle said nothing. She sat rigid, her silence heavy, taking in every sentence Colden had spoken.
The ride continued in pure silence, the air thick with grief, betrayal, and truths too sharp to ignore.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NEXT CHAPTER ON 16th FEBRUARY 2026