Not Your Princess

Chapter Nine

The carriage jostles around on the dirt road, unused to the rough terrain. The royal family rarely travel on roads outside of the city, so it isn't typically necessary for their carriages to be built for anything other than cobblestone pathways.

August will ensure that the next time he and Asch travel, the carriage will be a lot more stable. That way, they aren't always awkwardly running into each other every time the carriage runs over a rock.

Planting a hand along the carriage's interior, August tries to prevent himself from falling on top of Asch as they hit another large object. "I'm starting to question the structural integrity of this thing," he states. "What if a wheel falls off after running over one too many tree branches?"

Asch smiles at him, despite the possibility of such a disastrous situation. "Relax, darling." Her eyes drift toward the window to August's left, which is mostly curtained off. "I'm certain that we were provided with one of the best carriages available."

But not the best. His father would never offer up his favorite carriage to anyone. Even August's mother, Queen Julianne, has to beg for access to the best carriage. It's always a miracle when King Victor lets her use it.

August cannot even imagine doing such a thing to his wife. Everything that is his is hers. She will never need to ask his permission to use their things.

She gives him a peck on the cheek, wrapping her arms around him. Her face nuzzles into the side of his neck. His entire body relaxes, melting into her touch.

He could spend eternity just like this. Wrapped up in his wife's arms without a care in the world.

"You're very good at that," August claims.

The air that exits her nose tickles the side of his neck while she releases a content sigh. Asch gets even closer to August. "Good at what?"

Warmth seeps into his hands while he wraps his arms around her. His eyelids grow heavy, slowly inching closed. He was unaware of how tired he was until this very moment. "Calming me down," he answers. "Nothing could ever help me relax prior to you."

Asch hums softly, helping August drift further toward sleep. Even the occasional abrupt jostle cannot disturb the prince. He is floating in a sea of calm, aimlessly drifting to his perfect destination.

The prince is unexpectedly thrown to the other side of the carriage. His head hits the opposite bench. The padding does nothing to cushion the blow, giving him a raging headache.

Blinking through the tears, August spots his wife attempting to stand. Her eyes are wide with panic while she recovers from her shock. "Are you alright?" She questions.

August's tongue feels like sandpaper inside of his mouth. The words jumble around in his mind while he searches for the right one to say in response.

The door swings open from behind Asch. A pair of thick, red stained hands grabs his wife. She releases a cry of terror as she is forcefully removed from the carriage.

The sight helps August spring into action. He staggers to his feet, unable to fully stand upright. The words ambush, assassination, and kidnapping pop into his mind, but doesn't remember what they mean.

Someone opens the door behind him, catching him off guard. He is completely unprepared to fight off the blow being brought down onto his head.

As soon as the pommel of the sword makes contact, the prince is out cold.

*****

There's blood everywhere.

It permeates the air with its foul scent, causing an involuntary gag to leave Asch's lips. It stains the ground, soaking into the earth. It covers the bodies of the guards that were escorting the prince and princess. It stains the clothing of the men who are surrounding her.