Chapter 122

Elena’s entire body throbbed as though she had been beaten from head to toe. The pain pulsed through her limbs so violently that she could not even cry out. Lying sideways on the hard floor of the carriage, her hands and feet bound, she felt every jolt and rattle as the wheels struck the uneven road. Each bump sent her body swinging helplessly, the motion twisting her insides until her stomach turned and her lower abdomen ached with a deeper, sharper pull.

It was not her own pain that frightened her most—it was the fear that something might happen to the child inside her. The thought made her heart twist painfully, the anxiety spreading like poison through her chest. She tried to lie flat, pressing herself as close as she could to the inner wall of the carriage to lessen the impact of the carriage’s jolting. But the more she moved, the more the chains bit into her wrists. The metal cuffs cut into the flesh until her skin split, swollen and raw. Even the faintest movement made the sting flare anew, leaving her trembling with the effort to stay still.

From the moment she had been forced into the carriage at Montefiano, a blindfold had covered her eyes. She had no idea where she was being taken. At first, she could not sense the pheromones of those nearby—oddly muted, as if a veil had been drawn between her and the world—but now she felt them distinctly. There were perhaps ten of them, men surrounding the carriage, and among them was Marten.

They had been traveling without rest for days. Elena was allowed to drink water or eat only during the brief halts at night. The food barely deserved the name: a piece of bread so hard and dry it peeled the skin from the inside of her mouth, and a bowl of cold, fishy stew. Those were her meals. Only then would they untie her hands so she could eat, though the blindfold and the chains at her ankles remained.

A soldier always stood guard at her side. When her sore mouth made her eat too slowly, his annoyed sighs filled the silence, pricking her pride more sharply than the pain itself. Whenever the carriage stopped and he climbed in or out, the curtain at the door lifted slightly, and she could feel the damp night air kiss her face. Only then would she realize that another day had passed.

Suddenly, the carriage lurched over a deep rut, and her head struck the floor with a dull crack.

“Ugh…”

The moan slipped out before she could stifle it, but it vanished into the thick air, unheard. She drew a ragged breath and exhaled slowly, trying to swallow the pain. Beneath the blindfold, her eyes stared into darkness. Somewhere deep inside, she told herself that Kennard must be chasing after her by now. He had to be.

Yet an unease gnawed at her. She had thought he would catch up in a day or two, but too many days had already passed. The longer the journey stretched, the smaller that hope became.

“Elena Rosou.”

The sound of her own name startled her. She whispered it softly, tasting the unfamiliar syllables on her tongue. The name felt strange in her head, but when she spoke it aloud, it came naturally, as though she had always known it.

She remembered the stranger’s words—the man who had revealed that name to her. Kennard knows who you really are, he had said. But then why, she wondered, had Kennard never given her a surname? Why only “Elena”?

Her thoughts darkened. That man had told her Kennard was a demon, that he was evil and dangerous, that he would harm her in the end. Yet during all the months she had spent at his side, Kennard had done nothing but shower her with a love so deep it had frightened her. Whatever secrets he kept, she could not bring herself to believe that he meant her harm.

And even if he did deceive me… what use is it to think of that now? she thought bitterly, shaking her head as if to drive the thought away. Whether he lied or not, whether he is coming or not—none of it matters if I cannot survive long enough to see him again.

Still, her heart clung to the faintest spark of faith. He hasn’t given up on me. He can’t have.

The endless circling of her thoughts exhausted her. There was nothing she could do, not with her limbs bound and her sight taken from her. No answers would come no matter how long she worried.

Then came a sudden jolt—the clatter of chains, the rough neigh of horses—and the carriage stopped. Elena’s breath caught. She heard several men dismount, their boots crunching toward her.

Something was wrong. They had stopped too soon, and all of them were coming at once. It could only mean one of two things: they had reached their destination, or something unforeseen had happened. She prayed it was the latter—that perhaps Kennard was near, that perhaps they were forced to stop because danger was closing in.

The curtain was yanked aside, and several soldiers climbed into the carriage. They seized her roughly, hauling her upright before she could resist. The chains clanged as she stumbled, her wrists pulled tight behind her back.

“Let me go,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t fight,” one of them snapped.

When she tried to dig her heels into the floor, the soldier cursed and yanked harder. “You’re only making it worse for yourself. Move!”

Her feet left the ground for a moment as they lifted her down from the carriage, tossing her into the hands of others waiting below. The moment her boots touched earth, someone wrenched her arm so hard she thought the bone might snap.

“Careful there,” came Marten’s voice, sharp and mocking. “She’s the Grand Duke’s wife. Try to handle her with some respect.”

Though he used the title, his tone dripped with ridicule. Elena bit her lip to keep from speaking. A chuckle rose above her head, and then fingers tugged at the knot behind her head. The blindfold came away, and light stabbed into her eyes like arrows.

She winced, shutting them tight against the sudden brightness. For days she had seen nothing but darkness; the sunlight felt like fire on her retinas. Before she could adjust, rough hands gripped her arms again, dragging her forward.

Blinking against the glare, she opened her eyes a sliver, just enough to glimpse the world around her. They were deep in a forest, dense and green, far from any settlement. There were no signs of a destination—no outpost, no camp—only the sound of rushing water somewhere ahead.

She turned her head and saw the other soldiers remounting their horses. The carriage that had carried her for days was already rolling away, leaving only Marten and a handful of men behind with her.

“You said the Emperor ordered you to bring me to him,” she demanded, her voice hoarse. “Then where are we? Where are you taking me?”

Her words only earned her another violent tug on the arm. The soldiers ignored her, pulling her deeper into the woods. The chains around her ankles tangled in her skirts, and she stumbled, nearly falling. When she faltered, one of the men jerked her upright by the elbow, his grip so cruel that tears sprang to her eyes.

Marten walked ahead of them, silent, unbothered. He knew she carried Kennard’s child, and yet there was no compassion in his bearing.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked suddenly, her voice trembling.

Marten slowed, then stopped. The men behind him halted as well, forcing Elena to stop short.

“Well,” he said after a pause, turning his head slightly, “I haven’t decided.” He crossed his arms as if in thought, his tone almost playful. “To be honest, whether you live or die doesn’t matter much to me. Kennard’s going to have my head either way. Why should I care what happens to you?”

“Then why are you doing this?” she pressed. “If you know what he’ll do to you—if you know what he feels—why betray him? You’re his friend. You must know how this will hurt him.”

“Enough.”

The shout cracked through the air, raw and vicious. Marten’s eyes blazed with fury as he glared at her. “Shut your mouth.”

Before she could speak again, another man—Dirk, she thought his name was—stepped between them and caught Marten by the shoulder. “This isn’t the time,” he said curtly.

Marten exhaled sharply through his nose, then turned away. Without another word, he resumed walking, and Dirk motioned for the others to follow.

They trudged through the forest for what felt like an eternity, the path narrowing until even the horses could no longer pass. The roar of water grew louder with each step. Finally, the trees parted, revealing a vast waterfall cascading down the cliffside.

Even from a distance, the sound was deafening, the mist rising in silver plumes that glittered under the sunlight. A rainbow arched faintly through the spray. On any other day, the sight might have stolen her breath in awe. Now it only pressed on her chest with suffocating dread.

The men moved toward the base of the waterfall, following the stream as it swirled in white eddies. The current was fierce, and the rocky slope beneath her feet made each step treacherous. Her heavy dress caught under her boots, and the chains scraped against her skin until her ankles burned raw.

“Walk properly,” one soldier barked, tugging her forward when she stumbled.

Elena bit her lower lip, tasting blood. Pain, humiliation, and fear churned inside her until her vision blurred. She wanted to scream, to claw, to do anything that would make them see she was still human.

Instead, she swallowed her pride and spoke evenly, her voice trembling only slightly. “Tie my hands in front of me. Please. Then I can hold my skirt out of the way. It will be easier for both of us.”

The soldier on her right glanced at her, then at her bound wrists. His expression twisted with irritation, suspicion flickering behind his eyes. He hesitated, uncertain whether to comply or strike her for daring to speak.

Elena met his stare without flinching. Her wrists bled, her ankles throbbed, and her strength was nearly gone, yet she stood tall. Whatever happened next, she would not let them see her beg.

And as the roar of the waterfall swallowed the forest’s silence, she thought of Kennard—of his voice, his hand closing around hers, the quiet promise he had once made. The memory burned through the fog of pain like a fragile light, and she clung to it with everything she had left.