My duty

Isabella

Though I couldn't fully believe it, I still had to say thank you. It was basic courtesy to show appreciation to someone who did you a favor—especially one as significant as saving your life.

So here I was, walking through the dense woods, trying to find Don. They told me earlier that he had passed through here and hadn't returned. While it wasn't any of my business, I couldn't shake the curiosity gnawing at me. What was he doing here? I couldn't just ignore my suspicions—otherwise, I'd be a fool.

The further I walked, the darker the woods seemed to grow. The trees towered over me, their twisted branches almost suffocating the light. Some trees had dark green leaves, others a paler shade, but what truly unsettled me were the ones with leaves marked with dark, worm-like patterns. I shuddered at the thought of them. I hated worms. Their slimy, crawling bodies made my skin crawl.

Don't think about it. If you don't think about it, it won't happen, I told myself, trying to push the unsettling thought away. It was rule one of the universe: if you don't think about something, it can't hurt you.

I forced myself to focus on my path. My mind kept drifting back to Sebastián, though—his words, his disdain. He hated my name before even meeting me. Afterward, he just needed to identify me, so he could direct that hatred toward the right person. A person he had kissed. My lips tingled at the thought, and I quickly pushed it aside, nearly tripping over a twisted root.

Focus, I commanded myself. He gave you the wrong name. Focus.

Surviving him, surviving his pack, and surviving this twisted situation was my goal.

Finally, I spotted Don. He was standing with his back to me, exactly as Zoey had described. His broad shoulders were unmistakable, and though I didn't want to, I couldn't help but compare them to Sebastián's. The thought made my heart race, but I shoved it down.

"D-Don?" My voice trembled slightly, unsure whether to call out.

He turned slowly to face me, his gaze locking onto mine. The intensity in his eyes was immediate—cold, calculating. It wasn't the kind of heat I felt from Sebastián. This was different, sharper, almost predatory. His gaze roamed over me with unnerving precision, like a hunter studying its prey. His eyes darted over every small movement I made—the flick of my hair, the slight shift in my posture, the way my chest rose and fell with my breath.

The air between us grew heavier, thick with something I couldn't name. My pulse quickened, my heart thudding in my chest. Was I his prey? The confident mask I had been holding onto began to crack. Was he planning to kill me? The energy around him spoke volumes, and I felt small in comparison.

When I stepped closer, the tension seemed to tighten, suffocating. But then, as I drew near, the air shifted again. The weight lifted. Was I wrong?

"You called?" His voice was devoid of emotion, flat as steel.

"Ah, yes," I stammered, unsure of how to proceed. "I… I wanted to thank you. Zoey and the others mentioned you saved me, so I wanted to—"

"There's no need," he cut me off sharply. "It was my duty."

"Right. But still… it was kind of you," I managed, my voice softening as I spoke from the heart. Coming from the North, I knew he didn't have to show me any kindness, especially with the way my father treated me.

"Like I said, it's nothing. Is there anything else, Princess?" His tone remained neutral, distant.

"No, um…" My mind raced, wondering whether to ask. "Are you going back with the others?" The diplomats were supposed to return soon, and I couldn't shake the feeling that if they left, Don's "services" would end. I hoped they would—his presence unsettled me.

"No. I am your guard."

"Oh, great." I extended my hand, trying to sound casual. "Then let's have a happy cooperation."

He stared at my hand for a long moment, his eyes cold, before taking it. The brief contact sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel the faint disgust in his touch, though it was subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone else.

When he released my hand, it felt as though I were letting go of something heavy. I let my hand drop to my side, a silent sigh escaping my lips. Whatever, I reminded myself. At least I thanked him.

Without another word, Don turned and began walking away, leaving me standing there. I was about to turn back when a sudden sound cut through the air—arrows, shooting down toward us.

A scream tore from my throat as I dropped to the ground, instinctively trying to duck, but something froze me in place. Thick, black vines shot up from the ground and coiled around my legs, holding me fast. Panic surged in my chest. I tugged at the vines with all my strength, but they didn't budge. The sensation of being trapped made my breath quicken.

The vines were unnatural—thick, dark, and crawling with an eerie black smoke. They wrapped tighter, their grip unforgiving, and I felt an intense itching burn at my skin, as if the very flesh beneath my legs was being eaten alive. I screamed again, my voice raw with fear.

Don appeared then, seemingly out of nowhere, his sword flashing in the dim light. Another arrow streaked toward me, aimed at my forehead. I could feel the cold steel of death approaching, but Don was faster. He swung his sword, knocking the arrow aside with an effortless motion.

But then more arrows followed. Dozens, it seemed, coming at us all at once. My breath hitched in my throat. I was still stuck. The vines had me, and the arrows kept coming.

Don stepped in front of me, blocking my view. His presence was a protective shield, and I felt a rush of relief, though it didn't stop the terror bubbling in my chest. He grabbed me, lifting me into his arms without hesitation, his strength evident as he dragged me to my feet. His grip was firm around my waist, his body warm against mine. The air around us felt thick with danger, but his determination pushed it back.

He swung his sword again, slicing through the vines that still bound me. They loosened, and with a final effort, he carried me, bridal style, through the trees, away from the danger. The arrows hit the trees behind us, and as quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared.

Magic? The thought struck me with a cold rush. The South was known for its connection with white witches," the good ones" when compared with black magic users. They were one of the reasons my father could never establish a good hold of the South. But why had they come for me?

"Can you get off?" Don's voice sliced through my thoughts, his tone suddenly more detached than before.

I realized then that I was still clinging to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. My face flushed with embarrassment as I quickly jumped down from his arms, feeling awkward and flustered.

Just as I was about to apologize, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Oh no, don't let me stop you. Continue."

Sebastián.

If I were a fool, I might have thought his words were just laced with sarcasm. But I could hear the malice behind them, sharp and unmistakable. A chill ran down my spine. I quickly stepped away from Don, as if burned, my heart racing with the sudden tension between us.