Chapter ten

Revelation.

Yvonne rode silently behind Abijah, maintaining distance while keeping a watchful eye on the carriage carrying Grace. She remained cautious of this self-proclaimed prince of Malisha.

Abijah noticed but chose to ignore her, grinning inwardly.

Silly woman. If I meant harm, I would have acted while we were surrounded by my men, he thought.

"You! I want to ask a question."

Abijah yanked his horse to an abrupt stop. "And what might that be, Miss Yvonne?"

"Your wife. And don't ever call me that!"

"Fine. What should I call you, then?" He smiled.

"It doesn't matter. A simple 'hey' or 'you' is enough."

He chuckled. "Whatever. I'll do as I please. As for Ethel, she isn't my wife. She's just a slave my mother favored and decided to betroth me to. But now… I don't even know if the woman I call mother is really my mother. Either way, what do you want to know?"

"Did you know what she was—a serpent creature?"

He sighed. "I never saw her that way, so no… I didn't know." He hesitated, his tone uncertain.

"Maybe that explains why you don't even remember your mother's death."

His hands froze. His gaze snapped toward Yvonne.

"Listen, Yvonne, don't speak about my mother so carelessly. There are things I won't tolerate—even from you." He rode ahead.

Yvonne, taken aback, opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it. Remembering her own mother, she looked away before urging her horse forward.

Abijah watched her back for a long moment before riding after her. "Look, if we're going to travel together—even if we hate each other—we should at least be on the same page. Don't you agree?" He winked, but Yvonne rode past him without a glance.

"I don't hate you."

That was all she said. Abijah stared after her, a grin forming on his face.

The servants behind them exchanged stunned glances.

Since when did he get so familiar with strangers—let alone a woman?

Inside the Carriage

Grace stirred in her sleep, tossing and turning, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her wounds reopened, staining the sheets with fresh blood.

Her golden eyes snapped open. She sat up suddenly, making the carriage shake.

Yvonne jumped off her horse and rushed inside.

Grace looked disheveled, her golden hair tangled, her gown slipping off her shoulder.

Yvonne sat beside her, holding a bottle of water. "How are you feeling?"

Grace stared at the bottle, then at Yvonne.

"Reigon…"

"What?"

"Reigon."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"We're in Malisha right now."

"No! We have to go to Reigon—not Malisha!" Grace's voice was weak but urgent.

Yvonne rubbed her temples. "Grace, we can't do that. If anything, I'd love to go home more than anyone, but we can't. We're in Malisha now, and hopefully, we won't get killed here."

"No, we can't be in Malisha yet! We have to go to Reigon right now! I was told to go there. You don't understand!" Grace yelled.

"And who told you that?" Yvonne snapped. "Your 'spirit'? If it cared so much, why did it let you almost get killed?"

Before she could stop herself, Grace's hand moved. The slap landed hard, Yvonne's head snapping to the side.

Grace gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

Yvonne didn't move. Then, with one swift motion, the bottle of water flew across the carriage, smashing against the wall.

Without a word, Yvonne stormed out, climbed back onto her horse, and rode ahead. Her long black hair concealed her face.

Grace sat frozen, horror sinking in. What came over me?

Peering out the window, she saw Yvonne riding ahead, her head lowered.

I have to apologize…

She tried to stand but collapsed back onto the bed. Her legs trembled when she tried again. She gave up, lying still, sweating profusely. Sleep overtook her, dragging her into nightmares.

The Nightmare

The world burned. Ash thick as smoke filled the sky. Rivers of Malisha ran red with blood. Carcasses littered the lands of Fiyord. Tyrane was a barren wasteland. Ailantika was no more. Reigon stood empty. The great walls of Cyrus lay in ruin.

At the center of it all stood seven towering poles. Each bore the severed head of a ruler, their names scrawled on bloodied plaques beneath them:

Queen Isabel of Ailantika

King Cedric of Fiyord

Prince Abijah of Malisha

Queen Harriet of Reigon

Prince Clyde of Cyrus

And one more she couldn't quite see clearly.

Six heads in total.

In the heart of Tyrane, a dark cloud twisted ominously, its presence radiating malice.

Then came the voices.

"Grace… Grace… Grace…"

She turned.

"Reigon. You must get to Reigon!"

The six heads chanted louder and louder.

Then—

A piercing screech shattered the air.

Grace bolted awake, heart hammering, drenched in sweat. The sun had only just set, but she felt as if she had been trapped in darkness for hours.

She steadied her breath, convincing herself it was only a dream.

But the decision was made.

No matter what, I must get to Reigon.

A Silent Goodbye

Determined, she crawled from the bed and picked up the discarded water bottle, sipping what little remained. Every drop felt like fuel for her escape.

By nightfall, she would slip away.

As she rested, a thought gnawed at her. She had forgotten something.

Then it hit her.

Yvonne.

Guilt churned in her stomach. I need to apologize.

But walking was impossible.

Her eyes flickered to the blood-stained sheets.

An idea formed.

Gritting her teeth, she lifted her gown and pressed a finger into her reopened wound. Pain seared through her, but she dug deeper until fresh blood coated her fingers.

With slow, deliberate strokes, she wrote on the sheets.

When she was done, she lay back, exhausted, careful not to smudge the words.

"Goodbye, Miss Yvonne… and thank you for everything."