“The only mistake I made was trusting you.” Francis cornered him, until Caleb’s back met the door frame. “Leave before this dagger finds its place in your heart.” He growled.
Caleb drew a small breath, reaching for the hilt of my sword strapped to his back.
I swallowed at the sight of the gift my long resting father had left me. The only memory of Father was held by the one who contributed to the deaths of his wife and children. The only memory of him was now a threat to my life.
Francis moved in an instant. His hands visibly shook as he brought the dagger to Caleb’s throat, yet it was me who spoke, “How dare you threaten me with my own sword?” I moved to Francis’ side.
“I was merely returning what is rightfully yours.” Caleb froze.
“How generous of you.” Francis rolled his eyes, reluctantly retreating his dagger so slightly.
In one smooth motion, Caleb unsheathed my sword, holding out the hilt towards me. “Please consider my offer.”
“Out.” Francis pointed the dagger at the door. “Now.”
“You know where to find me.” Caleb threw over the shoulder, showing himself out.
When the main door slammed shut Francis’ eyes found mine. His features relaxed as he put his dagger into the scabbard; his amber eyes filled with relief. “Cordelia,” he whispered.
Dark brown curls fell around his face, his soft, bronze jaw now wore a scar; my fingers itched for a touch.
I took a step backwards when his hands reached for mine. “I have to go.” I mumbled, attaching the sword to my belt.
I didn’t know you. I wasn’t in love with you, Cordelia.
“I was worried.” His hands dropped to his sides. “I woke and you were gone.”
“You needn’t worry yourself.” I shrugged, moving towards the door.
Did he get the scar while rescuing me from the palace? Was he injured with Royal steel?
I wasn’t in love—
“Where are you going?” Francis’ charged after me. “Cordelia!” He yelled when I escaped the cabin and broke into a run.
The piercing frost bit my bare feet; the cool wind brushed through my tousled braid—
The horses were only a few yards away when Francis’ hand caught my waist. “Cordelia!”
“Let go of me, Francis!” I fought his strong hold—in vain. “I must go!”
“Tell me where you are going and I might consider it.” His grip tightened.
“Let go!” A roar broke through my throat as I freed myself, charging towards the forest; Annabelle long forgotten.
“Cordelia!”
The frost embraced my bare feet, the cold snow pricked my flesh with dozens of needles; I ran faster.
“Cordelia!” Francis raced after me.
I unsheathed the dagger Francis had gifted me so long ago when his steps shortened the distance.
Could I hurt him?
Would I hurt him?
“Where are you going, Princess?” He pulled on the end of my tunic, his other hand wrapping around me anew.
