Shadows Of Destiny

Chapter- XIII

The Princess<-----<<

The cold nipped at my skin as I stumbled out of the tunnel into the snow, my heart racing in my chest. The night sky above was a disorienting blur of stars, their faint light obscured by the swirling clouds of snow. We had made it outside, but the reality of our situation weighed heavily on me. The fortress loomed behind us, a dark reminder of the horrors I had just escaped. My legs shook beneath me. "Where- what- where are we?" I managed to say.

She put a finger to my lips, "Talk all you want later. Not now. Come."

She pulled me forward, her grip firm yet careful, as if she understood just how fragile I felt in that moment. My mind was spinning with fragments of the ordeal I'd just endured, and I could barely focus as she led me through the thick snow, guiding me like an anchor amidst the storm.

Ahead, her horse waited, its breath visible in the frigid air. She quickly mounted it, then turned, reaching a hand down to me. "Come on," she urged, her voice softening. For a heartbeat, I just stared at her hand, feeling as though the weight of all that had happened was pressing down on me, rendering me immobile. But when I met her eyes, fierce and unwavering, the strength in them spurred me forward. I grasped her hand, and she pulled me up in one smooth motion, settling me in front of her.

We rode for what felt like hours, the forest stretching endlessly before us. Every now and then, she'd glance back over her shoulder, alert, scanning the trees for any sign of pursuit. But with each passing moment, the fortress—and everything I wanted to leave behind—faded further into the distance.

At last, we slowed as we approached a small clearing nestled deep within the trees. To the side of the clearing, was a tattered tent. Elana dismounted first, moving swiftly to the tattered tent. The worn fabric was barely holding against the harsh winds, and I shivered at the sight, but as she pulled back the flap, I could see the small stockpile of supplies within. Bandages, salves, a few old blankets, and a small stack of dry wood. I wondered why this tent was there in the middle of a forest..

"Sit," she instructed, her tone gentle but leaving no room for argument. She guided me to a fallen log nearby and quickly draped one of the blankets around my shoulders, her hands lingering there for a heartbeat longer than needed. Her gaze softened as she looked at me, and the hint of warmth in her eyes eased something in my chest.

She knelt down in front of me, her fingers already untying a roll of bandages. I hadn't realized just how badly I was trembling until her hands steadied mine, her touch warm and grounding against the cold.

"Where are you hurt?" She asked, examining me with her eyes.

Her gaze scanned over me, sharp and assessing. I could see her frown deepen as she took in the bruises, the cuts, the evidence of everything I'd endured. My instinct was to shrink away, to tell her it was nothing, but the moment I tried to pull my arm back, her hand tightened just slightly, her fingers gentle but unyielding.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked softly, her voice threaded with concern.

I swallowed, feeling a wave of shame and vulnerability. "It's... it's not that bad," I murmured, though even as I said it, I could feel the sting in my shoulder, the ache in my ribs. My gaze dropped to the ground, but she wouldn't let me hide. She carefully lifted my chin with her fingers, making me look at her.

"Don't lie to me," she said, and there was no anger in her tone—just quiet determination.

I let out a shaky breath and finally nodded, feeling the weight of it all settle on me as I spoke. "My calf," I admitted. My voice broke slightly, a crack I couldn't hide. Her expression softened as she took in my words, and she gave a single nod. She moved her hand to examine the bruise on my calf, lifting th hem of my skirt.

She looked down at her supplies, selecting a jar of salve. As she opened it, the scent of herbs filled the air, grounding me slightly. Elana's hands, rough and calloused from years of wielding weapons, became impossibly gentle as she applied the salve, her movements precise and mindful of my pain.

Once she was done, she leaned back, examining me once again with her eyes, "Oh, the Queen's going to have my head if she finds you in this condition."