The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 75: The End of What Once Was

One of the knights answered the first, keeping his voice low.

"Not yet. Lady Matilda clearly told us to deal with her after we crossed Veridonia's borders. Remember?"

Another knight frowned.

"No. The plan has changed."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. But she also warned us that there might be Imperial Knights patrolling that area. If they catch us mid-kill, we're dead."

The knight who had spoken first fell silent, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword before he shrugged.

"Well, then it can't be helped. We should kill her here and dispose of her body once we reach the border. As long as no one discovers what happened, there shouldn't be a problem."

A grin crept across his lips.

Ellowyn's breath caught as she took a step backward, her face betraying the fear she could no longer suppress. So this had been her aunt's plan all along. If she were killed, Matilda would have no one left standing between herself and the ducal seat.

An ache of betrayal settled in her chest.

Had her aunt sent her here simply so she could have her killed somewhere where no one would ever know?

If she returned to her now, her aunt would likely find another opportunity to finish what she had started.

Ellowyn opened her palm, sparks of flame flickering against her trembling fingers. Her lips quivered, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She could fight, but power alone would not make up for her lack of experience. Facing several trained knights at once would still leave her at a severe disadvantage, no matter how capable she was with magic.

I can't die here.

She took another cautious step backward, but her heel came down on a dry twig. The sharp crack shattered the silence and echoed through the trees.

The knights immediately turned toward her.

Ellowyn froze.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach, giving her only a single dreadful second to stare before instinct took over.

She spun around and bolted into the woods before she could even think. Behind her came the sharp scrape of steel being drawn, followed by the rush of footsteps as the knights gave chase.

A cold chill prickled down her spine, driving her faster into the dark heart of the forest.

Her breathing grew ragged as the cold evening air scraped against her lungs. The rapid pounding of footsteps behind her never faded, following her through the trees and driving her onward.

The last sliver of sunlight hung low over the horizon, bleeding a deep, bruised orange through the canopy. The surrounding forest was rapidly surrendering to shadow, but she dared not slow down.

Brambles caught against her dress as she pushed through them, their sharp thorns tearing at her sleeves and scratching the exposed skin of her hands. Low branches whipped against her arms and shoulders, leaving stinging marks behind, but she hardly noticed the pain.

Then, through the rustling leaves, she heard it—the constant rush of water, loud and restless as it swept over the stones.

A river?

Her eyes widened as the sound grew louder. She pushed past another cluster of branches and found herself at the edge of a river.

The current was swift, rushing over the rocks with enough force to make her hesitate.