THE RUNAWAY ROYAL CHAPTER [ 12 ]

Chapter 12: Captured

The storm lasted through the night. When morning came, the world was buried under a white sea of snow. Rowan and Lyra stepped out of the cave into the blinding brightness, their cloaks heavy with frost.

For a moment, it was peaceful—too peaceful.

No birds. No wind. Just silence.

Rowan's instincts screamed. He gripped his sword, eyes scanning the ridge. "Something's wrong."

Lyra frowned. "Wrong how?"

Before he could answer, a whip of rope snapped through the air.

The Ambush

Lyra barely had time to scream before the rope looped around her arms, jerking her backward. She fell hard into the snow, struggling to free herself.

"Lyra!" Rowan lunged toward her, sword flashing—but an arrow whizzed past his head, forcing him to duck.

From the trees above, three figures in black cloaks dropped silently onto the snow, surrounding him. Hunters. Their faces were covered, their blades curved like talons.

And then the last man stepped out from the shadows, moving with calm, deadly grace.

Thorne.

"Going somewhere?" he said, voice like ice.

Rowan raised his sword. "You should've stayed in the dark, hunter."

Thorne smirked. "And miss this? No, Your Highness."

Lyra froze. "He knows who you are..."

Steel and Snow

Thorne moved first.

His blade clashed against Rowan's with a metallic scream. Rowan staggered but held firm, swinging with raw strength. Sparks lit the snow as they fought, each strike faster, harder.

Lyra kicked and twisted, trying to free herself from the ropes. Her dagger was just out of reach in the snow.

One hunter grabbed her arm—she bit his hand, hard. He cursed, but another slammed her down, pinning her.

"Rowan!" she yelled.

Rowan blocked another strike, but Thorne was too fast. With a sharp twist, Thorne hooked Rowan's sword, wrenching it from his grip. It spun through the air and buried itself in the snow.

"Over," Thorne said coldly, pressing his blade to Rowan's throat. "I could kill you now."

Rowan glared at him. "Then why don't you?"

The King's Orders

Thorne's eyes narrowed. "Because the king wants to do it himself."

At his signal, the hunters bound Rowan in thick ropes, tying his hands so tightly the cords bit into his skin.

Lyra struggled as they dragged her up, fury burning in her eyes. "You'll regret this! Both of you will!"

Thorne only laughed softly. "You talk like someone who thinks she has a choice."

He leaned close, his voice a whisper against her ear. "You don't."

The Black Sledge

By nightfall, Rowan and Lyra were thrown onto a black wooden sledge drawn by two massive horses. The hunters climbed aboard, their faces hidden under snow-dusted hoods.

As the sledge began its descent down the icy mountain path, Lyra looked at Rowan, her wrists raw from the ropes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rowan met her eyes. "Don't be. This isn't the end."

Lyra gave a small, fierce smile. "Then it's the beginning of something worse."

Snow swirled around them like ghosts as the sledge disappeared into the forest.

Behind them, the crystal cave glowed faintly one last time... and then went dark.

End of Chapter 12