My head felt as if it were spinning. The world seemed to move around me.For a moment I felt like I am on a horse. I tried to open my eyes but failed, and everything went blank again.
.
.
.
I felt water droplets on my face. I clenched my face and eyes tightly. I tried to open them, but no matter how hard I tried, my eyelids would not lift.
I heard some faint male voices. It was feeling like echo.
"She is waking up," one voice said.
"Go check her, see if she's awake." a deep voice echoed.
"Why me? You go and check her."
"That's my order. Go and check her." A deed voice commanded.
I could hear them, but my eyelids felt too heavy to lift. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder and a voice said, "Hey… hey? look she isn't responding."
"Splash some water on her," that deep voice ordered from behind.
Water splashed onto my face again. This time, I forced my eyes open.
At first, I could only see two blurry figures.
I blinked several times until my vision cleared.
Two unfamiliar men in their mid-twenties were standing in front of me. I glanced around. The place was small, shabby, and completely unfamiliar.
"Who are you?" I asked weakly while still lying on floor. "And where am I?"
"I'm leaving. You talk to her," one of them said and stormed out of the room.
The other man hurried after him. "Wait, Richard—" He glanced back at me with his cold eyes and then followed him, saying, "Where are you going? Come back here."
Only then did I realize my hands and legs were tied. I struggled against the rope, and that was when I noticed my wounds.
There was a yellow paste on my injuries. My arm—where the arrow had struck—was wrapped in clean cloth. I smelled the paste. It had a strong medicinal scent. It was some kind of herbal paste.
A bowl filled with the same yellow paste and a leaf lay on the floor near me.
I heard their voices again from outside.
"Richard, let's go. We need to talk to her."
"It was your idea to bring her here. You deal with her."
"I will… just come with me, Richard. Look—"
Their voices grew quieter, and I could no longer hear them.
Where am I? I wonder.
The room is shabby and dim. It looked like a kitchen,pots lie near a small hearth, and firewood is piled against the wall.
But near the door, a thin bedding and a few clothes are spread in the corner—proof that this place is not only for cooking, but for living too.
It is a terrible day.
So many things happened that my mind can barely keep up. My chest feels tight, my head throbs, and my thoughts refuse to settle.
Things that do not happen in a whole year happen to me in just one day. Today feels as if time itself is racing, pushing every moment forward before I can breathe.
Every moment brings something worse than the last, it feels as if this day is determined to break me.
Are these the same people Sophie sends after me—the ones who hunt me in the jungle?
Then why do they treat my wounds?
Why do they save me?
They were trying to kill me… weren't they?
Unless Sophie does not truly want me dead. Maybe she only wants me out of the palace for a while—long enough for Father to agree to her marriage with Prince Auxtin.
But that makes no sense. She is not in her right mind right now. She must be so upset about this marriage thing. If I go missing, Father will not think of weddings. He will search for me with every soldier in the kingdom. There will be no marriage while I am lost.
Then why…?
It must be something bigger than Sophie.
Father would never decide my marriage without even speaking to me unless the reason is serious.
My thoughts drift to King Gabriel.
A ruler feared across many lands. He has fought and won wars against countless states in recent years. His hunger for power never ends. Any kingdom that does not bow to him becomes his enemy. Those who hurt his pride are crushed beneath his armies.
There are rumors about him—whispers of a hidden warrior who fights his battles. A man so skilled that he can face hundreds alone. A genius of the battlefield. The shadow behind every victory.
Perhaps that is why Father chooses this path. Prince Auxtin belongs to a powerful empire. A good relation with his kingdom could protect us from the threat of King Gabriel. A marriage… for safety. For survival.
I am still lost in these thoughts when the door opens. They both enter the room again .
I lift my gaze to meet theirs.
So one of them is Richard… though I still do not know the other man's name.
The second man looks nothing like someone who belongs in this shabby place. His posture is straight and proud, as if he is used to standing before kings. His fingers are heavy with finely carved rings, their stones catching the light even in this dim room. His clothes are made of rich silk, dark and smooth, the kind only nobles and high-ranking men can afford.
The hut is poor and worn, yet they both look as though they come from a palace rather than a village.
The man steps forward and speaks in a cold voice,"What were you doing in the forest, covered in blood?"
His voice makes my stomach tighten. I have never met him before, yet something in his eyes and tone feels full of anger—anger meant for me.
Maybe I am imagining it. Maybe this terrible day has made me too sensitive.
But then… why is he asking me what I was doing in the jungle? Were they not the ones hunting me on Sophie's orders?
I try to gather my thoughts, but he suddenly raises his voice making me flinch.
"I asked you why you were in the jungle. Are you deaf?"
The sharp sound of his voice makes me flinch. A chill runs down my spine.
I swallow hard before speaking."What do you mean, what was I doing?" I say, my voice trembling.
"I was running for my life… from you. From the people trying to kill me."
My words make them look at each other in confusion." us… trying to kill you?" he asks, clearly puzzled.
And now I am confused too.
What is happening? Are they not the same people who were hunting me? If not… then who are they?
I hesitate before asking, "Who are you?"
The deep voice answers sharply, "Listen. You are not in a position to ask questions. I will ask, and you will answer. Understood? Now tell me what I asked you."
Why is his tone filled with hatred?I have done nothing to this man.
"Aren't you Sophie's men?" I ask slowly, my brows lifting. "The ones who were in the jungle?"
My words make him let out a bitter scoff.
"Oh ,so your own sister send people to kill you," he says with a crooked smile. "What else can one expect from a family of traitors? Betrayal runs in your blood."
They are not Sophie's men…?
Anger burns in my chest. How dare he speak of my family like that?
"That was a misunderstanding," I say, trying to defend us. "And who are you to speak about my family?"
"Family?" His eyes darken. He drags a stool forward and sits in front of me, leaning closer ."What kind of family sends killers after one of their family member huh ?" he says, tilting his head, his jaw clenched.
"Family?" He lets out a sharp, mocking chuckle. "A house full of traitors and betrayers… calling themselves a happy family."
"Let me go," I say, struggling to untie the rope around my wrists.
"As I already told you," he replies coldly, "you are no princess here. You are a captive. Your orders mean nothing."
He steps closer, his eyes hard.
"Now, let's talk about your family. Tell me, little princess… how is that miserable tyrant George? Is he doing well?"
"It is King George," I answer, lifting my chin and meeting his gaze.
"ANSWER ONLY WHAT I ASK!" he shouts suddenly, his voice exploding with anger and making me flinch backward.
He grabs my shoulder with crushing force. His fingers dug into my arm, nails biting into my skin.
"How is he hmm?" he demands. "How are his relations with the neighboring states?"
My eyes fall to his fingers—and I notice the same yellow herbal paste dried on his skin.
Is he the one who treated my wound?
Pain shoots through my arm as I try to pull away, but he shakes me violently.
"You will answer every question," he snarls, "or I will throw you into the wild and let the beasts tear you apart piece by piece."
Terror grips me. My arm hurting very bad where he holds me, but I stay silent.Who is he?A spy?
"Arthur, that's enough," Richard says sharply from behind him. "Stop."
But Arthur does not release me. Rage still burns in his eyes as he tightens his grip. My injured arm,that has been wrapped in clean white cloth, now darkens with fresh blood. Blood has started to drip down my skin.
As Richard saw the blood dripping , he rushes forward and forces Arthur's hand away, pulling him back.
"What are you doing?" Richard snaps. "She is bleeding!"
Arthur's gaze drops to my arm. The fury in his face slowly fades.
"It is not her fault that she is his daughter," Richard says firmly. "Your father would never have allowed harm to women, children, or the helpless. Don't be like her family . This cruelty—this is George's way. He wins by hurting the weak, stepping through the helpless women and child. . "
Arthur looks at me again. The hatred in his eyes is gone now, replaced by something else… something heavy and troubled.
Then he turns and storms out of the room.
Richard moves to an old wooden cupboard near the door and takes out a clean cloth. He kneels in front of me and carefully begins wrapping my arm again.
"My father is not what you say he is," I whisper.
Richard scoffs softly as he ties the cloth.
"We know exactly what kind of man he is."
"Agh—" I hiss when he tightens the knot.
His eyes lift to mine.
"Oh… sorry," he says quietly, stepping back.
"What are you going to do with me?" I ask.
"If you have any more wounds, use the herbal paste," he says, walking toward the pots at the side of the room.
"Please.... Please let me go," I beg. "I will not tell anyone about you. I am of no use to you. If you think you can learn something important from me, you are wrong."
He glances at me as he takes food from a pot.
"I m..mean.. I don't know anything," I continue desperately. "My father never tells me about the state or politics. We never talk about such things. I know nothing." I treid to convince him to let me go.
He brings a plate and a jug of water and places them in front of me.
"Eat," he says.
"Please… don't kill me—"
"We will not kill you," he interrupts, "as long as you do not do anything foolish."
He walks toward the door.
"Then let me go," I say again. "I am of no use to you."
"We will," he replies without turning back, "when the time comes." and he closes the door behind him .
He leaves, and now I am alone.
I twist and pull at my wrists, trying to free myself, but the rope is tied so tightly that my hands barely move. And who ties a rope to full hand length , even my fingers aren't free.
I hook my bound wrists around my knee and push with all my strength that i lost my balance and I fall hard to my right side.
I lie there, breathing heavily while my wrists still around my knee.
It flet like my skin around the rope gonna tear open —but the rope .... rope does not loosen even an inch.
I struggle back up into a sitting position and try again. I press my wrists against my knee and push harder than before. This time I topple to my left but still pushing my knees against the rope , still refusing to give up.
By the time I stop, my chest is heaving and my body feels weak and useless. I lie there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, trying to regain every bit of strength that has left in my body. Then I force myself up again, it tooked me a whole minute to get up into sitting position. I felt like the world around me is spinning. I shook me head, blinked a few times .
This time ,I lift my tied hands to my mouth and bite at the rope, trying to loosen it. After only a few seconds, my teeth begin to ache—but the rope does not budge.
"What kind of rope is this?" I mutter. "It's not loosening at all."
"Agh… aishh… umm…" Frustration escapes me in broken sounds and I shake my wrists violently trying to let my frustration out.
My arm hits the water jug. The jug tips over.
Water spills everywhere—soaking my clothes.
"Wow…" I sigh bitterly. For a moment, I even consider grabbing the plate of food and dumping it over my head too, since that seems to be the only thing left untouched.
cause myy hair were hanging messily all over my face, making me look like a ghost. Dust clings to my clothes, my skin, even my hair. My arm... my arm no longer looks like my arm at all—yellow herbal paste and dirt cover it so thickly that my real skin barely shows through.
Irritated by the hairs over my face, I try to push my hair back with my bound wrists, but the rough rope scrapes my face and refuses to let my hair stay in place.
My frustration rises until I let out a weak, helpless sound —like the kind people make when they wake up crying and don't even know why.
Aghhhhhh... I slump again.
"Forget my hands… I'll free my feet first," I whisper.
I bend forward, dragging my bound hands toward my ankles, reaching for the rope around my feet.
I am about to touch the rope on my feet when the door opens, freezing me in place.