Chapter 18 A hard time
Chapter 18 - A hard time
Ryder's POV
I learned very quickly what it was like to eliminate a name that opened doors. Outside the walls of the palace, no one bowed, no one stepped aside, and no one cared who my father was. Beyond the capital, out there was rough and noisy land, filled with smoke, dirt roads and people who lived day by day, without titles and banners. These were the people that were never spoken about by the court except when they needed bodies for labor or war. They were outcasts, runaways, half-bloods, traders who had angered the wrong lord and soldiers who had deserted after fighting too many pointless battles.
They were also the ones who hid me.
I kept my head down, my cloak closed and my royal bracelet cut off. At night I slept in abandoned sheds, broken inns or caves for the hills. During the day I went about with the crowds, listening rather than talking. Word got out quickly; I knew my father would not waste time. Guards searched all roads, all ports, all borders.
The first time I realized I was being protected it caught me off-guard.
I was buying bread with the last of my coins when a man was stiffening at the stall near me when he looked past me. His eyes got wide for a second, but then he looked away, like he had seen nothing. A woman next to him dropped her basket purposely, blocking the view from the road. When I looked back behind me, two men had just stepped out into the street, laughing way too loud, their bodies positioned just right to hide me from sight.
No one said a word.
Later that night an old man handed me a bowl of stew, came and sat across from me by the fire. He studied my face for a long while before he spoke.
"You helped my daughter one time," he said. "Years ago you stopped soldiers dragging her away."
I remembered. I had been younger, angrier than I was, careless with my rank. "I remember her," I said.
"Then you eat," he replied. "And you sleep."
That was how it went. Kindness was returned without questions. People recalled the little things that I'd done when I was still wearing silk and steel. A guard spared me. A sentence was reduced. A beating stopped. I had never thought much of it then, now it kept me alive.
Three days later Tomas located me.
He looked rougher than the last time I had seen him, his beard was longer and he wore no armor but simple clothes. As he saw me hustling out of a tavern his countenance became a mask of frozen horror, and then a grin, which scarcely concealed the anxiety of his eyes.
"You look like hell," he said as he sat down next to me.
"You got a look like you don't belong here," I said back at him.
He snorted. "Elric said the same thing."
"Elric is alive?" I asked.
Tomas nodded. "Barely. He deserted after that council meeting. "It's not an old man who likes blood," he said, "I am not marching against wolves.
I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "You didn't have to help me."
Tomas leaned back. "You did not have to get me out of that pit 5 years ago. Funny how things come around and around.
That night, Elric joined us. He had lost weight, his eyes were sharp and tired but the smile was the same.
"You really did it," he said. "You walked away."
"I ran," I said.
"No," Elric replied. "You chose."
They brought news. My father had pronounced me missing, not traitor yet. Patrols searched the roads. Rewards were offered for information. Elder Veyra's name cropped up frequently and was associated with rumours of power and control.
"You have nothing to protect you now," Tomas said quietly. If they find you they are not going to drag you gently back.
"I know," I said.
Elric studied me. "Then why stay?"
I thought of Olivia. Of Redcreek. Of Blood Soaking into Soil That Would Never Wash Clean "Because leaving doesn't stop what's coming" I said.
They helped where they could. Tomas knew which roads not to take. Elric had contacts among traders who were faster than soldiers. They brought in food, messages, rumours. They never stayed long, never came together, never brought back anyone to me.
One evening as we sat around a low fire, Tomas asked the question I had been trying to avoid.
"If it comes down to it," he said, "will you fight your father?
I stared into the flames. "I will stop him."
"That is not an answer," Elric said.
"It's the only one I have" I replied.
When they left before dawn I watched their figures disappearing into the dark. I felt the weight of everything that I had lost on my shoulders. No guards. No banners. No crown to shield me.
Just choices, consequences and war coming closer by the day.
I drew my cloak more closely about me, and stood. A prince meant nothing out here, but a man still could.
Olivia's POV
With a smile on their faces they locked the doors and called it care.
That morning, there were two guards standing outside my room before I could even open my eyes. I noticed the silence first. No maids talking in the hallway. No open windows. The air was heavy, as if the house itself decided to hold its breath.
When I stepped out, there was mom, standing stiff next to Alpha Tristan. My father was sitting at the long table, his hands folded, his face calm, the way that meant that he had made a different choice-money and power over me.
"You won't be going out of the pack house any more," my father said.
I chuckled because it didn't sound real. "You're joking."
"No," Tristan said before my father had the chance to say anything. His voice was flat. "You've humiliated this pack enough."
I turned to him. "By breathing?"
"You are disappearing at night," he said. "You look distracted. People talk."
"Let them," I snapped. "I'm not married yet."
Tristan took a step closer. "That's the problem."
My mother finally spoke. "It's just till the wedding," she said. "This is for your own good."
I stared at her. "You're locking me up in my own home."
"You are being protected," my father said. "We can't afford rumors."
"Or choices," I replied.
My father stood. "Enough. Guards will take you everywhere within the house. No visitors. No walks. No festivals. You stay visible, clean, and quiet."
Clean. Quiet. Like an object.
I looked at the guards again, at the way they avoided my eyes. "So this is it," I said. "A cage before the altar."
Tristan smiled slightly. "You'll get used to it."
That was when fear finally struck me. Not loud. Not sharp. Just deep and cold. Ryder's face flashed in my mind, his voice, his hands, the way he looked at me like I mattered. I felt the ache of a bond so far away, so alive, a wound that wouldn't close.
"What if I refuse?" I asked.
Tristan leaned closer. "You won't."
The meeting ended just like this. No discussion. No argument. Decisions made for me over my head like always.
The doors closed behind me. Keys turned. There were footsteps settling outside my room.
Hours passed. Then more. A maid brought some food and left without a word. I sat by the window watching over the grounds I could not walk on anymore. Trained wolves were in the distance. Life went on.
I put my hand on my chest and whispered Ryder's name; somehow, I hoped he could feel it.
They believed that they had me entrapped.
All they had done was to teach me how far they were willing to go.
And how far I would have to go to escape from it.