𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 ━━━━━ 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒕

• II

Dahlia was exhausted. Her day is not turning out the way she expected it to be. She sat on a horse being pulled by a random man. She was right beside Timothée as he rode on his horse. The rest of the group of men rode behind. Dahlia was full of rage. This was the man who is leading a revolution against her father, against her. She started to think of ways she could escape, all of them involved violence. Dahlia instinctively slapped her wrists.

A lady should not think of such violent ideas. Dahlia could remember every single punishment she got from Lady Halloway. Whenever she did something that was not ladylike, she would receive a punishment. Typically a slap on the wrist by some sharp object.

Timothée turned and gave a questioning glance to her, wondering why she randomly slapped herself. Dahlia turned away from his questioning gaze. She mustered up the courage to speak.

"If I am your prisoner," she chose her words carefully, "why aren't I tied up? And why do I get a horse and Henry has to walk?" Dahlia turned to see Henry trailing a few feet behind. He continued to walk in the hot sun with thick metal armour and tight rope around his wrists.

"Because he's dangerous and can hurt one of my men," Timothée responded. Dahlia pretended she didn't notice his constant glances on their long ride. Now, his green eyes stayed locked on her face, Dahlia not making eye contact. His response seemed to anger her more.

"Who says I'm not dangerous? Is it because I'm a girl?" Dahlia slapped her wrist again. She shouldn't lash out. The bandage that was put over the cut on her hand started to loosen. Timothée's eyebrows creased at the sight of her hitting herself. 

"Not because you're a girl. If you could fight, you would've fought Adrian." Timothée motions behind them to the same blonde boy that dragged Dahlia out of her carriage. She made a mental note to remember his name. She didn't know what to say and had trouble trying to form words.

"Where are we going?" Dahlia questioned. They've been riding for well over an hour in the woods. Dahlia hoped for it to turn dark soon.

"Back to my camp. Where my people are." Timothée replied while turning to look ahead. His people? This was her father's Kingdom, her father's land, and her father's people. Not his.

"Once they realize I'm not where I'm supposed to be, they'll send search parties. My father is going to be angry. He'll-"

"Your father is nothing more than a drunk with anger issues and a thirst for others pain." Timothée gripped the reins on his horse. His jaw moved slightly. A small vein appeared on the side of his neck.

"How dare you-" Dahlia interrupted herself this time. She slapped her wrist repeatedly for each foul word she was about the use. "A lady cannot." She mimicked the words of Lady Holloway under her breath.

"A lady cannot what?" He seemed to calm down and now looked at her with what could be possibly described as guilt. Dahlia huffed and looked down, her hair cascading in front of her. "My lady, just answer the question." She looked up and saw a large camp full of hundreds of tents. There must have been at least 2,000 people camping there.