Days later, rumors thickened into fear. Margaret whispered that a knight’s body had been found in the river. Dark cloak. No sword. No seal.
“Perhaps a thief,” Amalia said, forcing indifference.
“Or perhaps,” Margaret leaned closer, “the man who carried the royal child.”
Amalia nearly dropped her bucket.
She returned home shaking.
But inside the hut—someone waited.
A knock.
Then a voice she half-recognized.
“It’s me.”
The man entered—bloodied, exhausted, barely standing.
“I’m the one who gave you the child,” he said. “I was injured. But I’m here now.”
Amalia staggered backward. “I thought you were dead.”
“Almost.” He sank onto a bench. “But I’m here to protect him.”
It wasn’t the same man she remembered. Something in his eyes had changed—darker, older.
“Your name,” she whispered. “Tell me your name.”
“Rowan,” he said. “Knight of King Richard.”
For the first time in weeks, Amalia felt a strange relief—even as doubt gnawed at her.
Rowan stayed, helped with chores, taught her son Tomas how to chop wood. He kept watch at night, rarely sleeping. But he also hid secrets—whispers in the darkness, meetings in the forest. She overheard fragments:
“She suspects nothing.”
“Tomorrow.”
“The price.”
Fear poisoned her trust.
Then the soldiers returned.
Then the ambush.
And Rowan killed a man in the woods—an act that forced them to flee deeper into danger.
She wanted to hate him.
She wanted to trust him.
She didn’t know which was worse.
They fled through forests and storms. Edward cried until her arms ached. The children stumbled with exhaustion. Rowan bled from wounds he refused to acknowledge.
They found temporary shelter in a ruined mill. Then a forest hut. Then a monastery—only for it to be attacked by the duke’s soldiers.
Every time they thought they had escaped, death found them again.
And every time—Rowan stood between danger and her children.
Slowly, painfully, she saw the truth:
He was not her enemy.
He was a broken man seeking redemption.
Aldrick—the knight who first delivered Edward—returned. He was wounded, hunted, perhaps dying. He urged them to flee north before the duke’s men overran the valley. Rowan did not trust him, but Amalia chose to listen.
They crossed mountains, rivers, abandoned farmlands. They fought ambushes. They outpaced hunters. They nearly froze. Nearly starved. Nearly died more times than they could count.
And through it all—Rowan stayed.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
