"You proved more difficult to find than I'd thought."

Callum Winters hadn't moved from where he lounged against the fireplace mantle, dressed in chainmail and riding clothes. Instead, his men had hauled me towards him and shoved me down into a chair. They'd torn my sword from its sheath, dumped my bow and quiver on the floor, and tied my hands behind me so tightly that the rope chafed against my wrists. I thrashed and cursed, powerless against them, but hopeful that the racket might alert my guards downstairs.

Yet after several minutes of Callum watching me with amusement, it proved fruitless. There was no use demanding who'd sent him, or what he wanted. The fact he'd bound and disarmed me was answer enough.

Dulciana.

When I finally settled, Callum pushed away from the hearth and crouched to bring out faces level. "In the end, Her Majesty was right. The children led us straight to you."

The bastard. They'd used the Carvalho children as bait. Rafael's brothers and sisters hadn't escaped by sheer luck. They'd been allowed to flee, terrified, so they could be followed to the only other safe place they knew – wherever their older brother was. Even if Dulciana hadn't stooped so low as to torture it out of children, Frederico's location was still compromised.

But I couldn't think about that now, about all our best laid plans, turned to dust.

"Your terms," I ground out.

A smile sliced across Callum's face. "No, I don't suppose you'd enjoy hearing me gloat." He pushed himself upright. "But you're pragmatic, I'll give you that. You should count your lucky stars that it was me Dulciana sent to find you, and not her bloodhound of a husband."

"I'll start counting my lucky stars when you untie me," I fired back.

"Oh, Thomas. You were supposed to be the clever one." Callum tsked. "Surely you know there is only one way this ends."

A shiver of dread skittered up my spine. Of course I did. I'd been an utter fool to come here. I should have known. I should have at least guessed. I should have thought of something other than the feel of Beatriz' lips for a fates-damned second before I'd left.

I was going to die here, in this forsaken inn. An inn near Frederico's camp, an inn allied with the rebels. Dulciana would send my body back to my father and tell him the rebels had done it. She wouldn't have known about the letter I'd managed the smuggle out, which hopefully would make my family question her. But that didn't matter now, not when my blood would soak the threadbare rug and the wooden floor.

"Yes, now you understand," Callum nodded, malevolence glittering in his eyes. "Though fear not, little prince. I may be an exile, but I am still a Pretanian at heart. You should be glad it's me because, unlike Armando, I'm prepared to offer you an alternative."

I ground my teeth, glaring up at him.

"I'll escort you safely to Pretania myself, but with some conditions."

I didn't like the cruel glee on his face, like a cat toying with a mouse before devouring it. What was breaking his alliance with Dulciana and saving my life worth to him? How much did he think my parents would trade for me?

"Pardon me." He leaned closer as if to savour my reaction.

"Is that all?" I blurted out, realizing too late that he wasn't finished. He grinned. Alarm jangled at the back of my mind, stifled until now by the rope searing into my skin and the sweat beading on my forehead.

No. No, he couldn't–

"Pardon me...and marry my Adelaide, like you were always supposed to."

I reeled back as if slapped, unable to bite back the word that burst from my mouth. "Never!"

Callum simply laughed and patted me patronizingly on the cheek. I jerked away from his cold, calloused fingers. "I'm afraid you haven't much choice, unless you fancy spilling your royal blood all over the marble of Dulciana's throne room. I think that would be a rather terrible waste, especially when you're only second in line for a throne of your own."

The bastard. I bit back the curse that rose up my throat and sizzled on my tongue. Insulting Callum would not get me anywhere. Spitting on the idea of marrying Adelaide would not get me anywhere. Raging at him for daring to subtly threaten my brother's life so he could install me on Pretania's throne with his granddaughter beside me would only see me struck, or worse.

I needed to focus. To shove down my desperation and the panic clawing through every one of my thoughts. One-sided though it was, this was still a negotiation. There was something I could do, only what? There must have been something else he'd said that I could leverage to my advantage...

I needed to think of this as no more than a game. Another puzzle of father's. Another game of words with Andrew. Another debate with Frederico. I could win those. I could win this, if I stopped thinking about the consequences of defeat.

Despite my knotted stomach, I mustered as much calm as I could. "I'm afraid I do have a choice, Callum. Because your plan lacks one essential ingredient: feasibility." I held his gaze, forcing down all of my panic and all of the pain from the bite of the rope into my wrists. "My father will never pardon you. Not even for me."

He tilted his head in the same disapproving, disgusted way father so favoured. "Do you really think I'd risk my own neck if I wasn't certain it would pay off? A ship awaits us, though we don't sail for Highcastle. We sail for Pretanian waters, to anchor there until your father gives his response. If he declines, it's simple enough to chain you in irons and drop you into the sea. Preferably while they all watch from shore."

The damned bastard. The bastard. It was a brilliant plan and I hated him for it because he was right. Father would demand proof of life and all Callum would have to do was haul me up, chained, and dangle me over the crashing waves. Perhaps the threat on my life would be enough for father to sacrifice his word, for once, and kill Callum the moment he set foot on Pretanian soil. But Callum was clever enough not just to bet on my father's honour – he'd not set foot anywhere but Umberwood, shielded by his ancestral home and its considerable warriors.

Callum chuckled."That's right, little prince. I know more about you than you could ever imagine, which is why I'm offering my granddaughter to sweeten what is certainly a bitter deal to you. I know how you feel about her and, if you help me, I'll help you bind yourself to her irrevocably."

I stilled. Had he not heard me blurt out "never" mere moments ago? He certainly had, which could only mean he'd assumed my visceral reaction was against his pardon and not his offer of marriage. But then, why did he think I'd even want...

With a flash of rage so potent I nearly roared, the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

It wasn't Sam Winters who'd been in contact with Callum. It wasn't even his bitter, haughty wife. No, there was another Winters who knew me far better than Sam. Another Winters who cared deeply for my fate in Ardalone. Another Winters who would do anything for a throne. Anything, including convincing her grandfather to kidnap me and keep me from marrying anyone else.

Adelaide.

Lurking like a snake in my own court, ready to strike as she always had been. If only I'd known. If only I'd guessed at her desperation. If only I'd realized that my half-hearted promise to her all that time ago would never be enough to still her meddling hand. They all trusted her in Highcastle. Adelaide would have known about my letter. She would have known I was still alive and working with Frederico.

Fury clouded my judgement, even as I weighed my odds. Logic dictated that I stood no chance while tied to a chair, surrounded by armed men. But I was desperate and I was angry. If I could get them to untie me, or if I could get Callum to keep prattling on until someone came to check on me, perhaps I could flee. I needed to skew the odds to my favour, quickly, if I wanted to make a run for it, for even my guards might not stand a chance against Callum's considerable men.

"Do we have an agreement?" Callum asked, ripping me from my thoughts.

"Fine," I snapped. "But you can show some goodwill by removing these damned bonds before my hands fall off."

Callum's triumph shone in his eyes and the thin line of his lips as he pressed them shut against his smile. He straightened, satisfied, clearly believing that he'd won. I didn't intend to correct him, not until I had my hands freed and my sword, bow, and quiver back.

But he ignored my request and, instead, barked something Gallic at his men. They set into motion as dread began to curdle in my stomach. It had been ages since mother had attempted to teach us all Gallic, to no avail. Father preferred that we focus our efforts on Vareinnian and Ardal. But even without knowing the language, I could recognize an order to pack up and move out.

Desperate, my eyes swept back across the room for anything that might be of help. The fire poker, leaning against the stone hearth. The window beside the bed, that opened to a slick, wet rooftop. Unlatched. Big enough for me to fit through.

"Some food would be wonderful as well, unless you intend for me to die of starvation before we so much as reach the ocean." I tore my eyes from the window. "And perhaps the use of one of my hands so I can feed myself."

Or, to get at least one of the armed men out of the room and increase my chances of breaking free from my bonds.

"Did you really think I'd remain here, surrounded by your allies and not mine?" Callum demanded with a cruel smile, as he tugged a cloak over his chainmail.

Of course I didn't, but he didn't need to know that. He needed to think he was still three steps ahead of me. But before I could reply, he strode past me and said something else in Gallic to the two men flanking me.

A wad of cloth was shoved into my mouth and tied around the back of my head. The bonds on my wrists were yanked tighter and I was hauled to my feet. I shouted, but the gag muffled even my loudest cry.

I could not leave this inn. Leaving meant abandoning all hope of aid or escape. I was already hunted by Dulciana, but if I managed to flee from Callum and his men as they spirited me away towards Pretania, I'd be hunted by them too. I'd never be able to evade capture once we left the Carvalho lands for the decidedly less friendly lands of the Duque Dellanos – one of the men who had accepted Dulciana's vial of antidote at the fateful dinner when she'd killed her father.

I shouted through my gag, writhing and thrashing as best I could. But Callum's men were prepared. They talked over me, launching into a hearty, slurred Umberwood drinking song to muffle my shouts and explain my scuffling steps to any listening ears downstairs.

I was all but shoved down a narrow flight of stairs, different from the ones that led down to the dining room below, then through a rickety wooden door. Rain soaked my shirt as I tried unsuccessfully to dig my heels into the squelching mud. They dragged me, still shouting, towards the stables.

"Shut him up already," growled the man on my left, interrupting his singing.

The man on my right obliged with a fist to my stomach. Air whooshed from my lungs. I coughed against the foul taste of the gag in my mouth, rasping for breath around it. They hauled me towards where a pair of Callum's men were tacking horses.

"Stay put or there's more where that came from," the first man growled, shoving me against a stall door. It clattered as I sank down, still trying to catch my breath.

I had to run. I had no choice but to run. I gathered my legs beneath me as much as my bound hands allowed, then lurched forward.

I was too slow. A kick met my stomach, then another met my chin. I sprawled in the sour hay littering the stable floor as stars erupted behind my eyes. Dazed, I barely offered any resistance as the men hauled me over the back of one of the horses. The bonds around my wrists tore into my flesh again as they bound them to my ankles and the saddle to keep me atop the horse. The world went dark as a cloak was thrown over me.

The horse swayed. Hooves clopped against the stable floor until I felt the patter of raindrops through the cloak. I tried a halfhearted shout, but all that earned me was a blow to the head, barely cushioned by the cloak. More Gallic voices and more horses came nearer until I felt the saddle shift beside me as a rider mounted up.

Callum shouted something and the ropes binding me to the horse drew taught as he yanked them. The horse jerked forward. All I could see beyond the cloak around me was the hoof-churned mud beneath, speeding past quicker and quicker as the horses picked up pace. I bounced painfully against the horse as we rode, bruises blooming on top of the ones already pounded into me.

I told myself I wasn't giving up. I told myself I was simply collecting my wits. But the further we rode, the more distance was put between me and safety, the more hopeless I felt. I would have to run, injured and unarmed. I would have to hide and conceal my Pretanian skin as best I could until I figured out how to return to safety. I would have to beg or steal food, then find some way to get a letter to Frederico.

And all the while, Beatriz would think that I'd left. That hurt more than any of my injuries, as I jostled along on the back of Callum's horse.

But I couldn't think about that now. I needed to assess myself – how fast could I run, injured as I was? How silently could I hide? How could I distract them when they struck camp so I could best sneak away into the darkness? Would they even stop to make camp?

Shouts went up in Gallic and I lurched as Callum reined to a halt. His horse spun as someone nearby shouted in pain. The cloak slid off my legs and rain pattered my back. Steel rang as swords were drawn, but I heard nothing more after Callum silenced his men.

Then, the dull thwack of an arrow into flesh, followed by a roar of pain.

"To the fort!" Callum bellowed. My bonds tore into my wrists and ankles as he wheeled his horse around again. This time, the cloak slid further off. I twisted my neck in an attempt to free my head to see what was happening. Mud splattered me as I slammed against the horse again and again as we fled. Unable to wipe the rain and muck from my face, I attempted to squint through it.

In the fading light between the trees, two shadows pursued us, bows drawn.

**A/N: Thank you for your patience while I was away on vacation, readers! It was an unpleasant surprise to be counting on wifi at an AirBnb only to find out there was none 😣😫😤 But to thank you all for your patience, I've written a bonus chapter that I'll be posting tomorrow morning (Eastern standard time!) from a POV that is not Thomas'. Care to take a guess who it might be? 🤔😏😉

Also, who do you think is chasing them, Frederico's men or Dulciana's?

What about Adelaide - did you think she'd have a hand in all this (or had you forgotten about her? haha)

Finally, I'm working on building an author website, so I was curious what kind of content you would all want to see there? For example, would you want posts on writing advice, things that inspire me, backstory in the world of The Season series, chapter sneak peeks, or something else entirely?

As always, if you enjoyed it, please take a moment to vote and comment! 😊❤️😊**