The angry voices of my pursuers grow fainter. I’ve put more distance between us.
As I barrel deeper into the woods, the darkness closes in around me. Unable to run any longer, I slow down. The night is quiet, save for the rustling of leaves above and the occasional hoot of an owl. The forest floor feels soft beneath my hiking shoes. I’m grateful for the extra grip they provide on the moss-covered rocks and slippery roots that crisscross my path. As my heart rate returns to normal, so does my body temperature.
I press on. The darkness makes it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of me. I strain my ears, listening for any sounds that might indicate I’m being followed. So far, that doesn’t seem to be the case. But I can’t afford to be complacent.
Kurt won’t let me get away. His men will be back, in droves and accompanied by trained dogs. With my head start, and if I can walk for most of the night, I’ve bought myself a few hours—at best. Assuming we’re in the Chablais mountains, then I need to head southward. It should be a two-day trek from here to Mount Evor. Three, if my body doesn’t cooperate fully.
Without a compass, I look for signs in the natural environment that could guide me. The moss on the trees is thicker on the north side, where the sun is blocked for most of the day. Determining my direction, I adjust my course.
The moon emerges from behind the clouds. It casts a silvery glow over the trees and makes it easier to see my way. My feet and legs ache, but I keep moving. The air is cooling fast. The chill cuts through my cotton sweater, which is no match for an alpine night. At this altitude, even in early May, nighttime temperatures drop low enough to pose a threat. Without adequate clothing, if I don’t find shelter, I could end up in big trouble.
I clench my teeth to stop them from chattering. I’m not on the brink of hypothermia yet, but I will be if I don’t devise some way to stay warm.
The funny thing is, I long to pass out and die in these woods. There’s a strange contentment in envisioning myself resting here, on the forest floor, surrounded by nature, while the cold numbs my skin, chasing away my consciousness and silencing my breath. Given how badly I failed at my mission, and the cost of that failure for my country, my compatriots, and the royal family, I truly don’t mind if my life ends that way.
What I strongly object to is if Kurt’s men hunt me down, unconscious but still alive. I can’t let that happen.
I trudge on, but my body is approaching its limit. My mind, too. The crucial decision I’ll need to make soon requires more mental and physical force than I have left now. I need to rest.
Looking around, I spot a tree with a thick trunk. With my bare hands, I dig a shallow trench in the ground by the base of the tree. Then I gather a few large branches and lean them against the trunk, to trap some of the heat and create a makeshift shelter. I add pine needles and fallen leaves to the floor before collapsing on top, drained of all energy.
Not my best work, but it’ll do.
Hunkering down inside the shelter, I curl my body into a tight ball, hoping to retain as much warmth as possible despite the cold seeping into my very bones.
Luckily, Kurt’s men hadn’t taken my wristwatch. It doesn’t have an alarm function, but it’s backlit, which means I can keep track of time. Closing my eyes, I condition myself, like I used to do in the army.
One hour of sleep.I will wake up in exactly one hour from now, at three.
An owl hoots in the distance. The wind whistling through the trees sounds like a lullaby to me. I close my eyes, willing my body to stay warm as sleep pulls me under.
When I wake up, it’s three. I’m dehydrated and hungry, but warm enough and, given the circumstances, in much better shape than an hour ago.
Here’s to the restorative power of sleep!
I get up and resume my trek through the dark woodland, southward, to the eastern Mont Blanc massif. At the junction between France, Switzerland, and Italy lies the rocky patch of land that is my sovereign country for now. Mount Evor is my ancestral home. Seven generations on my father’s side, and many more on my mother’s. That unique, old, and prosperous country will officially cease to exist on January 1 next year, split between its three greedy neighbors.
Because I failed it.
I’d been so sure I would bring the fifth key home!Way too sure.Although I didn’t expect the search to be a piece of cake, it had never, not once, occurred to me I’d be the first key seeker to botch up his sacred task.
Charlie, my Key to the Key, was amazing throughout the adventure. Without her insights, I would’ve never been able to figure out where her mom may have taken what she believed to be Queen Charlotte’s key. Charlie, Adele, Hugues Pernoud, and the anonymous author of the manuscript had all been mistaken about the origin of the nine keys. Mélusine, whether she was a fairy or just an exceptional woman, couldn’t have made them and bequeathed them through generations down to Charlotte of France, who then gave them to her niece. Those keys were made in Mount Evor for the impenetrable vault.
But, mistaken or not, Charlie upheld her side of the deal. She found the key. That she sent me that unfortunate text was my fault. I should’ve instructed her not to contact me unless her life was in danger. She had no idea what we were up against, what kind of power Kurt Ozzi wields, and how far he’s prepared to go. That he was able to track us down and intercept the key is on me, and me alone.
In a sudden flash of clarity, my decision is made.
I’m not going back to Mount Evor. The dishonor of my failure would make it impossible for me to live there and look people in the eye, especially the royals. Nor do I wish to resettle and start afresh somewhere else. One can run, but one can’t hide from oneself.
There’s no point in dallying any further when I know what I must do. Besides, every additional hour I’m alive in these woods only increases the risk that Kurt’s men recapture me.
My disappearance would deal a heavy blow to my parents. I can’t begin to imagine what they’d go through, losing me all over again—this time for good. But I have no choice.
Mom, Dad, forgive me!
The good news is that it’s easy to die in the mountains. The even better news is that I’m in the Alps, close to home. This setting could’ve easily been Mount Evor. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect resting place. All I need to do is find a suitable cliff.
It won’t be a glorious exit. But it will allow me to wash off some of my disgrace. That’s all I care about now.
