The forest was not as kind as Victoria had imagined.
By the second day, her feet were blistered, every step a sharp sting. Hunger gnawed at her belly, her throat dry from lack of water. She had dreamed of freedom for so long, but she had never truly thought about what freedom cost.
She knelt by a stream, her hands trembling as she scooped water to her lips. The icy liquid burned its way down her throat, but at least it quieted the fire of thirst.
I'm free, she told herself. I'm free.
But even as the words echoed in her mind, she could not stop the images that haunted her: Damien's face when he would find her gone. The way he always smiled when he saw her. The way his arms felt safe around her, even in the prison courtyard.
Her chest tightened. She hadn't left to hurt him. She had left to protect herself. And maybe… to protect him too. The nobles already whispered about how much time the young prince spent in the dungeons, about how he treated a slave like an equal. If she stayed, she could ruin him.
A branch cracked in the woods behind her.
Victoria froze. Her body went rigid, her mind racing. Slowly, she turned—only to find two men stepping out from the shadows. Their clothes were ragged, their eyes sharp like wolves.
"Well, well," one sneered. "What do we have here? A little bird wandering out of her cage."
Her stomach sank. Bandits.
She scrambled backward, but they were already circling her.
"No collar," the second one muttered, eyeing her up and down. "But look at her hands. Rough. Marked. She's a slave." His grin spread, cruel and greedy. "A runaway. Do you know what price she'll fetch?"
Victoria's heart pounded so hard it hurt. She thought she had escaped chains forever, but here they were again, waiting to close around her neck.
"No," she whispered, more to herself than to them. "Never again."
The men lunged.
Victoria snatched up a jagged branch from the forest floor and swung with all her strength. The wood cracked against one man's shoulder, and he howled in pain. She bolted through the trees, her bare feet bleeding anew as she ran.
Branches clawed at her arms, roots tried to trip her, but she did not stop. She would rather die in these woods than return to chains.
Behind her, the men cursed and gave chase.
For the first time since leaving the palace, she realized freedom was not a gentle dream. It was a war she would have to fight for every day she stayed alive.
And somewhere, deep inside, she wished Damien were there.