Runaway Royal

Chapter Seven

I wake up because of a dull pounding in my head. My first instinct, as always, is to run.

I barely make it to the door before falling and nearly fainting. I scream and curl into myself on the hard-wooden floor of this bedroom filled with old wooden furniture and white cotton things.

The door opens and the brown eyed man enters.

"What the—oh my gosh! What are you doing?" he picks me up off the floor and lays me on the bed.

I swing my fists at him. "Don't touch me! Who are you? Where am I and who knows I'm here?"

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Woah, whoa. Easy, your highness."

I flinch at the title. I must get out of here. If he knows, it's only a matter of time before he will tell someone.

I struggle to stay upright on the bed, and then remember something.

He lied for me. He saved me and then didn't rat me out to that guard.

I sink back down and look up at him in awe. "You saved me..." I murmur.

He nods. "I mean you no harm, okay? You showed up on my front lawn and you were bleeding. That's no way to leave a lady. Speaking of, let me look at your leg." He reaches for the bandage wrapped around my leg.

Feeling defensive, but oddly trusting, I let him unravel it and gaze upon my fresh wound, still oozing. The open-air stings, but cools the burning ache in it.

The cut starts from my mid-thigh and reaches down to my ankle.

It doesn't look so terrible now that it's been cleaned up, but there's no way I can move on it.

I start to panic. I must get out of here, I can't be injured. I strain to sit upright and I am greeted by a flashing pain from my leg.

"Ow!" I cry out again and take deep breaths.

The person I now notice is a younger man settles me back down onto the bed.

"Easy, now. You cut yourself up pretty bad. I have some healing herbs, but what you need is rest to heal."

"I can't rest! I have to go." I sit up against and am met by wooziness. I groan and flop back down onto the bed.

"Relax. I have soup on the stove. I'll be right back." He leaves and I try to stay awake.

I clumsily wrap my leg back up and ignore my headache. Then the guilt crashes upon my chest.

I ran away again. I'm so selfish and terrible. I should go back. I think of Nathaniel and what he is trying to do to me.

I'm never going back.

With that thought, the brown-eyed man comes back in. He can't be much older than me. He carries a platter with a cup of water and a bowl of steaming soup.

"Here you go." He sets it down on the nightstand beside the bed.

"What is your name?" I ask, trying to be as regal as I can in this torn, muddy and bloody dress.

He smiles. "I'm Troy."

"Thea."

He grins wider. "I know."

I blush and swallow a spoonful of soup. "This is good. Thank you. For the soup and for saving me."

"No problem." He sits down in a large chair up against the wall.

I inspect him. He's tall. Much bigger than my father or brothers. He's strongly built and muscular. His hair is shaggy and sticks up at odd angles all over his head and his face is calm and handsome in a rich, natural and easy way. Big eyes, a large round nose and pink lips that seem to be grinning happily even when they aren't.