Chapter Two: The Road to Volfenheim
“You must be very excited.”
Selina let out a hassled breath and forced herself not to roll her eyes at Helena, who spoke from across her. She continued to stare at her cellular phone and deliberately ignored her, pretending she could not hear the pregnant woman inside the horse-drawn carriage they were riding in.
“I know you won’t believe me, but I am happy for you,” she said again, leaning an elbow on the open window, a dreamy look on her face. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be young again.”
Silence.
“Is Henry going to be there to welcome us?”
“I’m sure His Majesty will,” the third passenger on the coach said, finally had enough of the awkward silence. “It would be weird for him not to.”
“Be silent, Becca,” Selina snapped at her lady-in-waiting. “No one asked for your opinion.”
“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” Becca folded her hands on her lap and sat still, pretending to not exist.
This was the very reason Selina didn’t want Helena to come along. If it’s just Becca, she can tolerate, but her stepmother can’t stand silence and she doesn’t seem to pick up on the princess’ discomfort. They’d been traveling for hours and Selina was just about to have enough of the questions!
The younger woman looked at the time and sighed inwards. Besides that, they could have arrived in Volfenheim faster if it hadn’t been for the queen and her delicate condition. The carriage ride from the castle to the border would normally take two hours, but because she was heavy with child, the coachman had to drive gently. It irritated Selina most of all. If only her father hadn’t suggested she come along.
They just had to cross Lupine Pass, the steep land that separates the Florin Mountain of Rozenberg and the Wolke range of Volfenheim. If they’re lucky, they will reach the border by sundown.
It’s at least thirty minutes more to endure.
“Oh, you’re not wearing the earring Henry gave you,” the queen began again.
“Mother,” Selina began, her teeth clenched. She disliked calling the former concubine that, but she was still her father’s wife, the queen of their realm, and her father insisted they behave with the utmost propriety. “I—”
A heavy object fell on top of the Royal Carriage, causing the car to bounce and swerve in all directions. An uncanny, familiar snarl accompanied the clamors of the men outside the window. The carriage’s constant motions pushed the princess and the queen back and forward as it sped up. Selina observed her stepmother protectively clutching her enormous belly while clinging to an armrest for dear life. She considered sitting next to the older woman and assisting her, but when the queen met her gaze, the princess hurriedly averted her eyes. It was Becca who came to the older woman’s aid, holding her hand and whispering soothing words to her.
When Helena regained her equilibrium, she parted the drapes of the window with a gloved hand and gasped, prompting Selina and Becca to do the same.
“What is happening?”
“Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness.” One of the royal guards tasked with escorting them rode his horse to catch up with the speeding carriage, his firearm and sword drawn. “Please stay in your seats. We’re under attack.”
“What?” Helena leaned her head out of the window and craned her neck to look behind them. They left behind three of the royal guards to defend them from their attackers. The women couldn’t see what the guards were fighting against—there was some smoke enveloping them for some reason—but they could hear gunshots, clashing of metals, and screams of agony.
“Werewolves,” Selina said, contempt clear in her voice. “The audacity of these animals, attacking the royal carriage—”
She leaned back in her seat to breathe before placing a hand on the velvet-covered armrest and slamming a fist on the mechanism. A tiny door on the footrest opened, and the princess dipped her hand into the opening before pulling it out again, producing an elegant-looking pocket pistol small enough to fit in her hand. It was a revolver with elaborate patterns carved on its gleaming frame and pure ivory grip panels.
“How do you know they’re werewolves?” Helena’s voice was quivering, her face was pale and tiny perspiration dotted her forehead.
“Who else could they be?” Selina inspected the cylinder for bullets before lowering her hand to the footrest slot and pulling out a box of black bullets. She loaded the revolver before slipping the package into her pocket.
“You’re not planning to use that, are you?”
“If need be.”
They trained the princess to be the perfect wife; they also taught her to use guns to protect herself from bandits and occults that might want to ruin her dignity. The handgun was for her to use specifically for times like this. They filled the bullets with concentrated Black Herb poison. It would only take one bullet for an occult to drop dead and her aim was perfect, even with a moving object; her father made sure of that.
“I think I’m going to get sick—”
Selina rolled her eyes at the queen, but she noted that the older woman indeed looked a little green. Becca quickly produced a tiny jar of smelling salt from her pocket and hovered it below Helena’s nose. The princess ignored them to look outside the window again. The sun was setting fast, and they were still a few minutes away from the safety of the border.
Her stomach dropped as she saw a small, shiny boulder on the road and one wheel was about to slam into it. Becca and Helena gasped and whimpered in unison, surprised when the carriage made a little jump. Selina heard the wood splinter and watched as a small object fell off the damaged wheel. She braced herself, leaning back in her seat and gripping the armrests as tightly as she could, silently praying to the Rozen Maiden. A split second later, she felt the carriage pull to the side, losing control, as the damaged wheel launched itself onto the mountainside.
“What’s happening?” Helena tried to look out again, but gravity pinned her to her seat.
The mountain walls looked closer and closer.
“Oh no, oh gods, no!” Becca screamed.
Selina closed her eyes tight as a massive blow slammed into the carriage, knocking her out of her seat and hitting her head. When she came to, it took her a minute to realize the car had already skidded to a halt. As she pushed herself off the floor, black dots danced in her eyes, making her dizzy, nauseous. Grabbing her weapon, she stepped over her unconscious stepmother and Becca, and, against her better judgment, threw open the door. She stepped out of the vehicle, pulling the hat pin that was digging onto her scalp and releasing her hair from the hat, only to encounter a man clutching an unconscious royal coachman by the back of his coat as if he were a handbag, as if the coachman weighed nothing.
He, too, seemed taken aback to see her, and she took advantage of the opportunity to study him. The man was tall, slim, and shirtless, showing off his lean frame and tawny, yellowish-brown skin. He was barefoot and had dark tattered denim pants on, and his hair was longer than she was used to seeing. It hung down to the center of his torso, dark as the night, tangled, greasy, and wavy, obscuring most of his face.
One word came to mind: werewolf!
She wasn’t certain, though. He doesn’t appear to be a werewolf. No, he resembled a vagrant. A homeless person with an athlete’s body and the strength of a werewolf. When he took a step forward, the princess felt her spirit leap out of her body in surprise.
“S-stay where you are, you filthy animal!” Selina raised her weapon, clicking the safety off.
He smirked at her before throwing the coachman at her feet, as though the coachman were of no significance. Behind him, the sun was setting faster, and within seconds, the darkness and coldness of the night enveloped them.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” They taught her to shoot first and ask questions later, but the effect of the Black Herb bullets was instantaneous. She won’t have the time to ask later. “How do you know I was passing here? Who sent you?”
A pair of yellow eyes blazed fiercely beneath the black curtain of hair, and Selina took a step back, her heart pounding hard at her ribs. Retracting his lips, he exposed gleaming, sharp white teeth. A deep guttural sound was emitted from his throat before he lunged at her.
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