Yvonne's POV
The wind whipped my hair around my face as I rode on the horse, not as fast as I wanted, thanks to the guards circling me like vultures, but at least faster than that stuffy carriage or how that icy jerk was riding on his own horse.
"Damn, this feels good," I muttered, tilting my head back and letting the sun kiss my face.
Now this was the proper way to travel, not cramped up in a box that looked fancy on the outside but felt like a sweaty coffin on the inside. Though, to be fair, the road wasn't exactly smooth sailing.
After a few minutes of reckless joy, I slowed down, matching the pace of the guards ahead of me. The others behind me kept their distance, watching like I was some precious glass doll about to break. Seriously? What did they think would happen? I'd sprout wings and fly away?
Whatever. I didn't dwell on it.
Instead, I leaned forward, caressing the silky mane of the beautiful beast carrying me.
"Who's a good boy?" I cooed in English, rubbing his neck affectionately. His ears twitched, and I grinned.
I didn't realize I had company until he appeared beside me, breaking through the little cage of guards like he owned the entire world.
"Esa lengua... Te he advertido que no la vuelvas a hablar."
("That tongue... I've warned you not to speak it again.")
The deep, familiar voice startled me.
I nearly toppled sideways off the horse, but before I could hit the ground, he caught me.
Now, if you're imagining one of those cheesy movie scenes where the guy swoops in all hero-like and grabs the girl by the waist... yeah, no.
This jerk?
He caught me by my hair.
My long-ass hair.
Like I was a damn sack of potatoes.
And then, with his large hand wrapped around my skull, literally wrapped, like he could crush it if he wanted to, he unceremoniously shoved my head forward. Not gently, not like those cliché drama scenes where the guy holds the girl like she's made of glass, nope. This man couldn't wait to get his hand off me, like I had some contagious disease.
I gripped the reins, steadying myself with a sharp breath, not from fear of falling, but to keep from snapping at him and calling him every colorful insult I knew in English.
I refused to look at him. I just sat there, seething quietly while mentally cursing the frosty bastard in every bad word I could think of.
We rode in silence, but to my increasing annoyance, I couldn't stop being hyper-aware of him. His presence was like a looming storm cloud. Why was he even here? Wasn't he supposed to be behind me? When did he sneak up beside me?
I was so lost in my head, I didn't even notice when he suddenly pulled his horse to a stop. The entire procession halted with him.
I only realized when I bumped into the guard's horse in front of me.
"Why are…" I started to ask but quickly shut my mouth when I turned and saw his eyes. They darted around, scanning the woods flanking both sides of the narrow path, sharp and calculating. The air around him felt... different.
Tense.
Dangerous.
Then his gaze snapped to me.
"Llevad a la reina de vuelta al carruaje."("See the queen back to the carriage.")
His voice was calm but left no room for argument.
Normally, I would have argued, probably thrown in a sarcastic quip or two, but something about the way his hand went to his sword hilt made every cell in my body scream that something was off.
Without protest, I let one of the guards help me down from the horse.
And just as I bent my head to descend…
SWOOSH!
An arrow zipped past me, narrowly missing my head, embedding itself into the bark of a nearby tree.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
Chaos erupted.
Everything blurred around me, shouting, clanging metal, the guards rushing into formation.
I don't even know how it happened, but the next thing I knew, I was shoved into the carriage. The door slammed shut behind me, and Klara crouched by the door, a dagger clutched tightly in her hand.
Her usually soft features were hardened into something fierce, something I hadn't seen before.
I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to steady my rapid breaths, but the sounds outside only made my heart hammer harder, shouted orders in rapid-fire Spanish, the icy jerk's deep voice cutting through the noise...
Shink.
I didn't need to see to know what that sound was.
A sword.
What the hell was happening?
I leaned forward instinctively…
"Nein, meine Dame, bleibt zurück." ("Nay, my lady, stay back.")
Klara's sharp whisper cut me off, her blue eyes locked on me with a protective fire I'd never seen before.
I remembered the way the arrow had narrowly missed me, embedding itself in the tree with a dull thud. That arrow was meant for me, there was no doubt about it. I might be a playgirl, never serious, living for booze, parties, and sex, but I wasn't stupid.
Someone had tried to kill me.
I didn't even realize I'd spoken out loud until Klara turned her head slightly, her grip tightening around the dagger.
"Meine Dame, nimmer würde der König solch ein Ding gestatten." ("My lady, ne'er would the king permit such a thing.")
That was all she said before turning back to the door, resuming her vigil. But her words didn't reassure me, not when the clashing of steel echoed through the thick silence outside. What if something had happened? What if... what if that icy jerk was hurt? What if all his guards were dead and we were next?
I shivered, pressing myself further into the seat.
Then, footsteps.
Heavy. Slow. Purposeful.
Klara raised her dagger, ready to strike. I just sat there, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would crack my ribs. The carriage door creaked open, and I didn't even breathe until I saw him.
The king.
His cold, blue eyes scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my face. His expression was unreadable, just that same frosty mask, like he hadn't just been out there fighting for his life or something.
But then I saw it.
Blood.
A smear of red splattered across his cheek, streaking down his neck. My mouth opened, to say what, I wasn't sure, but the words caught in my throat when I noticed what he held in his hand.
A head.
Severed. Bloody. Dripping.
I didn't scream.
I didn't breathe.
Everything simply went dark.