The crownless Queen

The dawn broke slowly, its pale light barely filtering through the thick canopy of trees surrounding their makeshift camp. The scent of damp earth filled Lyanna's senses as she stirred, her body stiff from the cold, unyielding ground. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe it had all been a nightmare—the rebels, the bloodshed, the stranger who'd dragged her from her throne.

But the low crackle of a dying fire and the shadowed figure seated across from her quickly shattered that illusion.

Kalen sat with his back against a tree, his dark cloak blending with the surrounding woods. His piercing gaze found hers the moment she shifted, as though he had been watching her all night.

"Sleep well, Your Highness?" he asked, his tone neutral but edged with something she couldn't quite place.

Lyanna pushed herself up, brushing dried leaves from her tunic. "As well as anyone can on the ground," she replied coldly.

"You'll get used to it," he said, standing and stretching with a casualness that belied the danger they were in.

She bristled at his nonchalance. "I'm not planning on making this a habit."

Kalen's lips quirked in the faintest hint of a smirk, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned to the small bundle he had prepared earlier and tossed her a piece of stale bread.

"Eat. We have a long journey ahead."

Lyanna hesitated, glaring at the bread as though it had personally offended her. "Where are we going?"

"To a safe house," Kalen replied simply.

"Safe for whom? You? Because it's certainly not safe for me to be traipsing through the woods with a man I know nothing about."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "You think staying in the palace would have been safer? They would've had your head on a spike before the sun rose."

Her hands clenched at her sides. "You could have left me there, then."

"I don't leave people to die," he said, his voice low but firm. "Even when they're as stubborn as you."

Lyanna's retort died on her lips as his words hung in the air. There was something in his tone—an unspoken weight that hinted at a past he wasn't ready to share.

She turned away, biting into the bread to avoid meeting his gaze.

Revelations in the Woods

As they walked, the forest grew denser, the trees towering above them like silent sentinels. Kalen moved with practiced ease, his steps light and deliberate, while Lyanna stumbled over roots and uneven terrain.

"Are you always this graceful?" he asked dryly, catching her arm before she could fall.

"Not all of us are used to skulking in the shadows," she shot back, yanking her arm free.

"Careful, Your Highness. You'll hurt my feelings."

"Do you even have feelings?" she muttered under her breath.

A low chuckle escaped him, but he didn't answer.

The silence stretched between them until Lyanna couldn't bear it any longer. "The Order of the Blooded Thorn," she said abruptly. "What do they want with me?"

Kalen's jaw tightened, his easy demeanor vanishing. "It's not you they want. It's what you represent."

"Which is?"

He stopped, turning to face her. "Power. Control. The pendant you were supposed to wear isn't just a symbol of your rule—it's tied to the magic that sustains this kingdom. With it, they could dismantle everything your family has built."

Lyanna stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. "How do you know so much about them?"

Kalen hesitated, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Because I've seen what they're capable of. And I've lost too much to let them win."

The conversation was cut short by a sudden rustling in the bushes ahead. Kalen's hand shot to the hilt of his sword, his body tense and alert.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice low.

Before Lyanna could protest, a group of armed men emerged from the trees, their faces hidden behind crude masks.

"Well, well," one of them drawled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "What do we have here?"

Lyanna's heart pounded as the men surrounded them, their weapons glinting in the morning light.

"You're far from home, princess," the leader sneered, his gaze raking over her.

Kalen stepped forward, placing himself between Lyanna and the men. "If you value your lives, you'll walk away," he said, his voice calm but deadly.

The leader laughed. "And what are you going to do? Take us all on by yourself?"

Kalen's response was a blur of motion. Before Lyanna could process what was happening, he had disarmed the leader and had him on the ground, the tip of his blade pressed against the man's throat.

"Anyone else?" Kalen asked, his voice cold.

The other men hesitated, their bravado faltering. One by one, they dropped their weapons and fled into the woods, leaving their leader behind.

Kalen released the man, who scrambled to his feet and ran without looking back.

Lyanna stared at him, her chest heaving with adrenaline. "Who are you?" she whispered, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Kalen sheathed his sword, his expression unreadable. "Someone who's trying to keep you alive."

A Fragile Alliance

They continued in silence, the tension between them palpable. Lyanna's mind raced with questions, but she knew better than to push him now.

As the sun climbed higher, she found herself stealing glances at Kalen, her confusion and frustration warring with a growing curiosity.

He was an enigma—a man who moved through the world like a shadow, carrying secrets she wasn't sure she wanted to uncover.

And yet, for the first time since the attack, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, she could trust him.

But trust, she reminded herself, was a dangerous thing.