The Forest Ambush

KAELIA'S POV

Two days into our journey toward the dark spires of Drakenford, the weight of the road began to settle into my bones. The constant rhythm of riding left a dull ache in my muscles, yet a thrilling spark of freedom burned in my chest. We stopped at a small, unassuming inn near the border to rest the horses and our weary guards.

Inside the dim tavern, I shoved a massive piece of roasted meat into my mouth, chewing with a gluttonous freedom that would have sent my royal tutors into a dead faint. I wiped grease from my chin with the back of my rough linen sleeve, relishing every second of this temporary escape from royal etiquette.

"Princess, I mean, Kaelia..." Mirel whispered, glancing around the empty dining area nervously. We had left the soldiers stationed outside to guard the perimeter.

I swallowed hard and pointed a greasy finger at her. "Mirel, do not call me that. Remember the disguise." I gestured to my dark leather trousers and muddy tunic. "To everyone else, I am the Captain."

"What should I call you then?" Mirel asked, twisting a cloth napkin in her hands.

"You should call me Captain. After all, I am the leader of our hundred-man escort right now."

Mirel let out a nervous giggle, covering her mouth. "Okay, Captain. Are you going to stay in this disguise all the way to Drakenford, or will you change into your royal gowns when we get close to the gates?"

I took a long drink from my wooden tankard. "Hmm. Why don't I just play a prank on King Draven?"

Mirel’s eyes widened. "What do you mean, Prin—Captain?"

"I mean, I will stay in this disguise and ask one of the maids to act as the princess," I said, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. "I want to see what this arrogant king is really like before I reveal my true identity."

"But isn't that risky?" Mirel leaned in, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "What if the king gets angry? You know his reputation."

"It will not be for long. I just need him to think the decoy is his bride for a little while." I picked up another pastry. "It is a final piece of freedom before I am locked in a cold stone castle forever."

"You are something else, Captain," Mirel muttered, shaking her head.

"It is a good thing I am a captain right now and not a princess," I said, tearing into the bread. "I can eat however I want."

By midday, our journey resumed. We left the open plains behind and entered the heart of a dense, claustrophobic forest. The towering trees twisted together overhead, forming a thick canopy that choked out the sunlight. The air grew heavy, thick with an unspoken threat. The rhythmic clopping of hooves was the only sound in the suffocating silence.

Without warning, a chorus of savage shouts shattered the quiet.

A horn blared through the trees.

"Ambush!" someone screamed from the front line.

Fury reared up, his front hooves kicking at the air. Before I could steady the reins, the ground beneath us gave way. I was bucked forward, tumbling off the saddle and crashing into a hidden pit trap. Dirt and sharp roots tore at my clothes as I hit the hard earth at the bottom.

"Protect the princess!" Ronan, the leader of our guards, yelled. He rushed to the edge of the pit, reaching a thick, armored arm down to me.

I grabbed his forearm, letting him haul me up over the edge. "Do not call me that!" I hissed, keeping my voice low over the clash of steel. "I will be in worse trouble if they find out who I am. Call me Captain until we reach Drakenford!"

"Protect the Captain!" Ronan roared over his shoulder, correcting himself. A group of our soldiers formed a tight shield wall around me.

Arrows began to rain through the trees, thudding into wooden shields and finding the gaps in our armor. The bandits poured from the shadows like a nightmare. There were dozens of them, outnumbering our hundred men. They swung rusted axes and heavy broadswords, their faces painted in mud and blood.

"Kaelia, we need to go now!" Mirel yelled, struggling to keep her horse steady. "We are outnumbered. If we don't leave, they will capture us."

"The girl is right, Captain," Ronan grunted, deflecting a heavy blow from a bandit’s axe. "You need to leave. I will fight alongside the men to buy you time."

"I am not leaving you to die!" I drew my sword, the metal scraping out of the scabbard. "My fighting skills are good enough—"

"No!" Mirel cut in, her face pale with terror. "The fate of Eldoria rests on your shoulders. If anything happens to you, it will be a disaster for our people."

"Flee!" Ronan shoved me toward Fury, who was pacing nervously near the edge of the pit. "Leave now before it is too late!"

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the reins and swung myself into the leather saddle. Mirel spurred her mare forward, and I kicked Fury's sides.

"Go, Fury!" I yelled.

The white horse launched into a dead gallop. We tore through the dense forest, branches whipping at my face and tearing at my cloak. The sounds of slaughter echoed behind us, but the pounding of enemy hooves quickly followed. They were chasing us.

"Mirel, stay beside me!" I shouted over the rushing wind.

Arrows zipped past my ears, thudding into tree trunks. Fury was too fast. He surged ahead, his powerful strides leaving Mirel’s brown mare struggling in the dirt.

I twisted in the saddle to look back. "Mirel, hurry!"

A scream ripped through the air. Mirel’s horse stumbled over a thick root, sending her flying over the mare's head. She crashed hard into the dirt, rolling into a patch of thorns.

"Leave, Kaelia!" she shrieked, clutching her twisted ankle. "Just go!"

A cold knot tightened in my chest. I yanked hard on the reins. I could not leave her. I refused to let her die for me.

"Fury, turn back!" I commanded.

I wheeled the massive horse around, charging back into the fray. I leaned down, extending my hand to pull Mirel up, but a heavy net flew from the trees, tangling in Fury’s legs. My horse went down with a heavy thud, throwing me into the dirt beside Mirel.

Before I could even reach for my sword, heavy boots surrounded us. We were boxed in by at least twenty men. They looked like savages, their bare chests covered in dark, jagged tattoos. Heavy iron piercings hung from their noses and ears.

"Look what we have here," a gruff voice mocked. "A pretty boy and a pretty lady. We must be blessed today."

The bandits cheered, a cruel, jagged sound.

Mirel crawled toward me, her hands shaking as she clutched my arm. She was shivering hard.

"Isn't this one a bit too pretty to be a boy?" another bandit sneered, stepping closer to inspect me.

The leader, a massive man with a cruel sneer and scars crossing his cheeks, leaned down. "Yes, he is. Look at that smooth face. Look at those fierce eyes."

He lunged forward and grabbed my wrists, yanking me up from the dirt. His grip was like iron, bruising the skin beneath my tunic. I thrashed against him, kicking at his shins, but he merely laughed, running a filthy thumb over the back of my hand.

"So soft," the leader murmured, his eyes gleaming with greed. "He must be a pampered son from a wealthy noble family. We are going to make a fortune off this one. The slave markets pay high coin for pretty boys."

The bandits roared in agreement.

"Bind them with the rest of the surviving soldiers," the leader ordered, shoving me toward his men. "We move out."

Rough ropes were bound tightly around my wrists, biting into my skin as we were dragged away into the shadows.

DRAVEN'S POV

The cold, grey halls of Drakenford Castle were silent, the heavy stone walls absorbing the chill of the northern winds. I sat on the iron throne, my gaze fixed on the flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows across the floor.

Footsteps echoed in the vast chamber. Garrick, my right-hand man and the only person in this frozen wasteland I considered a friend, approached the dais. His face was grim.

"My King," Garrick said, bowing his head slightly. "Our spies at the border just sent word. Princess Kaelia’s escort was ambushed on the road. She has been captured by bandits. Should I assemble a rescue party?"

I did not blink. I leaned back against the hard iron of the chair. "And why should we do that? King Aldric sent an escort. They should have had enough men to protect her."

Garrick shifted his weight, his brow furrowing. "But my King, she is meant to be your wife. She is the future Queen of Drakenford. We cannot just leave her to the wolves. I think you should dispatch a unit to retrieve her."

"I will not send a single soldier to rescue her," I said, my voice dropping to a flat, dangerous calm. "They must figure it out themselves. How many men did Eldoria send to guard this precious princess?"

"One hundred, sire."

A dark scoff escaped my lips. "One hundred armed soldiers, and they could not protect one woman? They are incompetent."

"My King, they were ambushed in the dense forest," Garrick argued, taking a step forward.

"That is not an excuse, Garrick. Stop taking their side."

"But my King, you—"

"Quiet," I commanded, the word slicing through the air like a blade. Garrick snapped his mouth shut. "This is a test. If they can save themselves and bring the princess to Drakenford, it will prove that Eldoria is a strong nation worthy of our alliance. But if they are unable to save her, they are weak. And I do not ally with weak nations. If they fail, I will not spare Eldoria."

Garrick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sire, the bandits who captured the princess are notorious in the borderlands. They are brutal. They don't just hold nobles for ransom. They sell women into the underground slavery rings."

I drummed my fingers against the armrest, unmoved by the grim fate hanging over my so-called bride. "Even better."

Garrick stared at me, stunned. "Better?"

"Instruct our spy to keep a close eye on the bandit camp," I ordered, my tone devoid of warmth. "If they fail to escape and the bandits put the princess on the auction block, have the spy buy her. We will get our queen without losing a single Drakenford soldier in a pointless skirmish."

Garrick hesitated, a heavy pause filling the throne room. He looked down, then back up at me, a tight grimace forming on his lips.

"There is one flaw in that plan, my King," Garrick pointed out, his voice tinged with dark irony. "No one in Drakenford actually knows what the princess looks like."