Not Your Princess

Chapter Ten

By the time night falls, Asch has successfully managed to drag both Henrick and August back into the carriage. There, the three of them are more protected from the bitter, cold night.

It's not as though the cold really affects Asch. She has always been immune to nature's most brutal element, thanks to the fire within her. Her husband is not as fortunate. When the sun had just started to dip over the horizon, August had begun to shiver.

Henrick, surprisingly, was still fine. Part of his inability to feel the cold may be due to the gash on his leg. Or, he wants to ensure that the royal couple are taken care of before he is. Regardless, the man has not made a single complaint the entire time.

Asch is certain that Henrick is pretending to be much better than he actually is. His face is becoming more and more pale as the hours move on. He mentioned that the bleeding has slowed and that he was feeling fine, but it's hard to believe him when he grimaces every so often.

"Are you cold?" Henrick questions from the floor of the carriage. Despite his injury, the guard had insisted on sleeping between August and Asch's benches.

It's likely a lot more comfortable. The lumpy cushions on each of the benches are far too thin to truly act like a cushion. As uncomfortable as it is, Asch still feels bad for leaving the most injured member of the trio to sleep on the floor.

Rolling onto her side so that she can look down at him, Asch shakes her head. "No, I'm fine." Her eyes dart toward August, who is wrapped in both of the emergency blankets. His body violently shakes with a shiver, indicating that he is still cold.

Slowly, Asch sits up so that she can step around the man laying on the floor. Concern eats away at her insides, unsure of August's current condition. He hasn't done anything to indicate that he is anywhere close to consciousness. The more time goes on without him waking up, the more Aschleigh fears that he isn't going to. There's something terrifying about losing her husband. Despite the fact that they have only known one another for a month, Asch feels as though devastation is on the horizon for the two of them. An ache that will cut her so deep, she will not know how to properly function.

"What are you doing?" Henrick hisses in annoyance. His breath puffs in front of him, forming a small cloud.

She never truly noticed the sudden drop in temperature. No wonder why August is shivering. It's probably freezing outside.

Asch stumbles into August's unconscious body in an attempt to avoid Henrick. The prince does not stir in his slip from the impact, but a soft groan does leave his lips. The sound offers the young woman the smallest amount of hope. Perhaps August will awaken in the morning.

If there was a way to successfully manage it, Asch would produce a small flame to generate the heat needed to keep her husband warm. With Henrick's close proximity and the unpredictable nature of fire, Asch knows that the idea is not the best decision for her to make. With her luck, she'd end up lighting the carriage ablaze and they'd all be trapped in the cold.

Gently, Asch attempts to slide August over the slightest amount so that they can both lay on the bench. When she realizes that she won't be able to create that space, Asch makes the decision to lay on top of him.

The wall of the carriage presses against the side of her body, resisting her attempts to become comfortable. The jacket's metal buttons press against the blanket, creating indents on Asch's body. Every time August shivers, Asch can feel it shake her own body.

As Asch begins to wonder if her body heat is even of help to the prince, he stops shaking. A sigh of relief leaves her lips and her eyes fall closed. "He's no longer shaking," she informs Henrick.