She had always imagined cliffs as dramatic, romantic places where heroines stood with wind in their hair while thinking poetic thoughts. In reality, they were terrifying. Sharp. Too high. Too final.

The cliff before her dropped straight down into a rushing river, the water foaming and smashing against rocks like it was angry at the world. One wrong step and she would be swallowed whole.

Behind her, branches snapped.

The tracker was close.

Too close.

Victoria tightened her grip on the dagger, her hand shaking. Her legs trembled in that weak, panicked way she hated. Wind whipped her cloak back, making her feel even more exposed.

Move, Rowan had yelled.

Move where? Into thin air?

She turned slightly, trying to find another path, but the cliff curved around her like a prison. She could not outrun the tracker. She could not fight him. She could not leap without breaking half the bones in her body.

Her mind raced.

Think, Victoria.

The tracker stepped into view, his boots crunching on the dirt. His face twisted in a cold, satisfied smirk.

"There you are," he said, breathing hard. "Your father will be pleased. You nearly caused trouble."

Victoria forced her voice to stay steady. "I am trouble."

It was bravado. Pure bravery flavored nonsense. But it gave her a bit of strength.

The tracker took slow steps toward her, sword raised. "Drop the knife. Come quietly."

"Quietly is not my style," she said.

Her eyes darted around, desperate for anything that could help.

A loose branch?

The trunk at her feet?

The river?

The river.

If she timed it right, if she jumped into a deeper section and angled herself correctly, she might survive long enough to reach the bank. That was a huge maybe. A wild maybe. The kind of maybe that made sensible people stay home.

Victoria was not sensible today.

She took a step back.

The tracker smirked. "You would not dare. You would die before you hit the water."

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not."

Then she did something she had not planned.

She threw her trunk at him.

It was heavy, messy, clumsy, and completely unexpected. The trunk smashed into his chest, knocking him back with a startled grunt. He stumbled, dropping his sword.

Victoria did not wait to see if he recovered.

She ran.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

And then she jumped.

Air roared in her ears. Her stomach flipped. Her scream tore out of her throat before she could stop it. The fall stole her breath, ripped it from her lungs, and replaced it with pure fear.

Then the river hit her.

Cold.

Violent.

Shock ripped through her body. Water closed over her head, dragging her down, spinning her like a rag doll. Her arms flailed, fighting for the surface. The current pulled her sideways, then down again.

She kicked as hard as she could, reaching for air.

Her head broke the surface for a moment. She gasped once before a wave smacked her face and dragged her under again. Her lungs burned. Panic tightened her chest.

She pushed upward again.

Her fingers brushed air.

She tried once more.

Her head broke the surface again and she coughed, gasping. Trees blurred past along the riverbank. She tried to swim but the current was too strong. It carried her faster and faster, tossing her like she weighed nothing.

"Victoria!"

The shout came faintly from the top of the cliff behind her. Rowan.

She tried to look back, but another wave blocked her view. She swallowed water and choked, fighting to stay afloat.

The river rushed her toward a bend. She saw rocks ahead and fear shot through her chest like lightning.

No.

She kicked, twisted her body, and aimed for the deeper water. She hit a smooth rock with her hip and cried out underwater, bubbles spilling from her lips. Pain burst through her side.

She forced herself back up.

The current slowed just a little as the river widened. She seized the chance, kicking toward a fallen tree near the bank. Her fingers reached a branch. Her grip slipped once, then tightened again with desperation born from pure survival.

She dragged herself closer, coughing hard, clinging to the wood like it was life itself. Inch by inch, she pulled herself toward the shore.

Her arms felt like they were barely attached. Her head spun. Her lungs burned as if she had swallowed fire.

But she made it.

With a final heave, she crawled onto the muddy bank, collapsed on her side, and lay there gulping air like someone who had almost lost the privilege forever.

Time blurred.

The world tilted.

Then footsteps crashed through the brush.

Victoria weakly grabbed her dagger, even though she probably could not lift it properly. Her vision blurred. Shapes doubled.

"Stay back," she rasped.

Someone knelt beside her.

Warm hands rolled her gently onto her back. She blinked hard, forcing her eyes to focus.

Rowan.

Soaked.

Breathing hard.

His hair dripped onto her cheek as he leaned over her, his eyes scanning her face with a mixture of relief and something she could not quite name.

"You jumped," he said in a low voice. "I told you to move, not leap off a cliff."

Victoria coughed again, wincing. "I improvised."

"You nearly died."

"But I did not."

"You could have broken your neck."

"But I did not."

His jaw tightened. "Victoria."

She looked at him stubbornly. "Would you rather I let that man drag me home?"

Rowan glared for a moment, then sighed, tension leaving his shoulders. "No. I would rather you stay alive."

She blinked at that. No one had said anything like that to her in years. Certainly not with such raw honesty. It settled somewhere deep inside her, warm in a strange, unexpected way.

He brushed wet hair away from her face. The touch was gentle, surprisingly so for someone who fought like a blade with legs.

She swallowed. "Did you kill them?"

"No," he said. "But they will not follow us for a while. One is unconscious. The others went searching the wrong direction."

Victoria nodded faintly. "Good."

Rowan studied her. "Can you stand?"

She tried pushing herself up and winced sharply. "My hip says no."

He sighed again. "I will carry you."

She stared at him. "No need. Give me a minute."

"You cannot walk like this."

"Rowan, I am fine."

"You nearly drowned."

"I said I am fine."

"You are not."

"Do not tell me what I am."

They glared at each other for a full second before Rowan finally leaned forward and scooped her into his arms.

Victoria let out a startled gasp. "Rowan!"

"Save your energy," he said. "We cannot stay here."

She wanted to argue again, but her body was trembling and her teeth had started to chatter. She tucked her face against his shoulder, partly to hide her exhaustion, partly because his warmth felt steady in a world that currently felt like chaos.

As he carried her through the forest, she whispered, "Why are you doing all this for me?"

His arms tightened around her just a little. "Because your uncle asked me to. And because someone has to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" she murmured.

Rowan did not answer immediately.

Then he said something that made her breath catch.

"From the truth your father has kept hidden for years."

Victoria's grip on his shirt tightened. "What truth?"

Rowan met her eyes.

"That you are not the only one in danger."

She opened her mouth to speak, but a rustle ahead cut her off.

Rowan stopped.

Victoria lifted her head slightly.

A shadow moved behind the trees.

Not a tracker.

Not an animal.

Someone else.

Rowan set her gently on her feet and pushed her behind him, his entire body shifting into defense without hesitation.

The bushes parted.

A man stepped out.

Dressed in green.

Holding a bow.

And aiming the arrow directly at Rowan's chest.

Victoria's breath caught.

Rowan whispered, "Stay behind me."

The archer pulled the string tighter.

"You should not have brought her here," he said.

Having spent her entire life learning how to curtsy, how to pour tea without spilling, and how to pretend she enjoyed conversations about weather. No one had taught her what to do when a strange man aimed an arrow at the person protecting her.

Her first instinct was to scream. Her second was to grab Rowan's arm and pull him backward. Her third, which she actually did, was freeze completely while her brain scrambled for something useful.

The archer did not move. His face was partially hidden by the hood of his green cloak, but she could see his mouth set in a grim line. His hands were steady on the bowstring. Too steady. This was not his first time threatening someone.

Rowan stood perfectly still, his body angled to shield Victoria. His voice came out low and controlled. "Lower the bow, Kael."

Kael.

So Rowan knew him.

That should have been comforting. It was not.

Kael's grip on the bow did not loosen. "I told you not to bring anyone here. Especially not her."

"I had no choice," Rowan said.

"You always have a choice."

"Not this time."

Kael's eyes flicked toward Victoria for the first time. She felt his gaze like a cold wind. He studied her with the kind of look people gave broken furniture, deciding whether it was worth fixing or throwing away.

She lifted her chin despite the fact that she was soaking wet, bruised, and barely able to stand. "If you plan to shoot us, do it quickly. I have had a very long morning and I would like to know if I survive it."

Kael blinked. Then, to her surprise, he lowered the bow just slightly. "She talks like you said she would."

Rowan's shoulders relaxed a fraction. "She talks more than I said she would."

Victoria shot him a look. "Excuse me?"

Rowan ignored her and stepped forward cautiously. "Kael, we need shelter. She is injured. Trackers are searching the area. I will explain everything, but not here."

Kael studied them both for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, he slung the bow over his shoulder and gestured sharply toward the trees. "Follow me. Quickly. If they find my camp because of you, I will shoot you both myself."

Victoria whispered to Rowan, "He seems friendly."

"He is," Rowan replied seriously.

She stared at him. "That was sarcastic."

"I know."

She had no idea if he was joking or if he genuinely thought Kael was friendly. Either way, she was too tired to argue. Her hip throbbed. Her legs felt like wet rope. She took one step forward and nearly collapsed.

Rowan caught her immediately, his arm sliding around her waist. "Lean on me."

"I do not need to lean."

"Victoria."

"Fine." She leaned. Her pride hurt more than her hip, but survival won over dignity.

They followed Kael deeper into the forest, moving quickly despite Victoria's limp. The trees grew thicker here, the light dimmer. Moss covered the ground like a soft green carpet. Birds called overhead, sharp and sudden, making her jump twice.

Kael moved like he knew every root, every branch, every hidden path. He did not speak. He did not look back. He just walked with the confidence of someone who had spent years learning how to disappear.

After what felt like forever, they reached a small clearing. A crude shelter sat tucked beneath a massive oak tree, built from branches, canvas, and what looked like stolen pieces of a torn wagon. A fire pit sat cold and empty in the center. Supplies were stacked neatly along one side, covered with oiled cloth.

Kael gestured toward a log near the fire pit. "Sit."

Victoria limped over and sank onto the log with a sigh of relief. Her body felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry badly.

Rowan crouched beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "Let me see your hip."

She pulled her cloak tighter. "Absolutely not."

"Victoria, if it is badly injured-"

"It is bruised, not broken. I will survive."

His jaw tightened, but he did not push. Instead, he stood and turned to Kael. "Do you have bandages? Clean water?"

Kael nodded and disappeared into the shelter. He returned moments later with a leather pouch and a waterskin. He handed them to Rowan without a word, then turned his attention to Victoria.

"You jumped into the river," Kael said. It was not a question.

"Yes."

"That was stupid."

Victoria glared at him. "It was effective."

"Stupid and effective are not opposites."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Rowan interrupted. "Kael, enough."

Kael crossed his arms. "You brought her into the Thornwood. The one place we agreed no one should come unless they were already dead or running from something worse than death. Which is she?"

Victoria frowned. "I am sitting right here."

"I know," Kael said flatly. "Answer the question."

She looked at Rowan, confused. "What is he talking about?"

Rowan sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. "The Thornwood is a place where people hide when they cannot go anywhere else. Kael has been living here for three years. He helps people who are running from powerful enemies."

"People like me," Victoria said slowly.

"Yes."

She looked at Kael again, seeing him differently now. He was not just a man with a bow. He was someone who understood what it meant to be hunted.

Kael sat down across from her, his expression hard. "Rowan told me about you months ago. Said you might need help one day. I told him not to make promises he could not keep."

"I kept my promise," Rowan said quietly.

Kael snorted. "You brought a noblewoman into a forest full of criminals and deserters. If her father's men find this place, they will burn it to the ground looking for her."

Victoria's stomach twisted. "I did not know. I am sorry."

Kael studied her for a moment, then shook his head. "You should be. But you are here now. So we deal with it."

Rowan knelt beside the fire pit and began building a small fire with practiced efficiency. "How many people are in the Thornwood right now?"

"Twelve," Kael said. "Mostly men. Two women. All of them dangerous in their own way. If they find out she is Lord Halstead's daughter, half of them will try to sell her back for the reward."

Victoria's blood went cold. "Reward?"

Rowan glanced at her, his expression carefully neutral. "Your father posted a reward this morning. Five hundred gold coins for your safe return."

Her mouth fell open. "Five hundred?"

"He wants you back," Kael said bluntly. "Badly."

She stood up too quickly, ignoring the pain in her hip. "Five hundred gold coins? I am worth more than a horse but less than a decent house?"

Rowan almost smiled. "You are worth more than that to him. The reward is just the beginning."

Victoria paced, her mind racing. Five hundred gold coins was enough to tempt anyone. Enough to make her a target for every desperate person in Aveloria. She thought she had escaped her father's control, but he had just extended it in a different way.

She stopped and turned to Kael. "Why did you lower your bow? If I am worth that much, why not turn me in yourself?"

Kael looked at her for a long moment. Then he said something that surprised her.

"Because Rowan saved my life once. I owe him. And because I know what it is like to run from a father who thinks he owns you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and true.

Victoria sat back down slowly. "Thank you."

Kael nodded once. "Do not thank me yet. You are not safe. Not even close."

Rowan finished lighting the fire. Flames flickered to life, casting warm light across the clearing. He looked at Victoria, his expression serious.

"There is something you need to know," he said. "Something your uncle told me before he died."

Victoria's heart skipped. "What is it?"

Rowan hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "Your uncle did not die of illness."

She stared at him. "What?"

"He was poisoned."

The world tilted.

Victoria felt her breath catch, her hands gripping the log beneath her. "No. That is not true. The doctors said-"

"The doctors lied," Rowan said quietly. "Your father paid them to lie."

Her vision blurred. "Why would my father do that?"

Rowan met her eyes.

"Because your uncle discovered the truth about your bloodline. And your father killed him to keep it hidden."

She could not breathe properly. The air felt thick, like someone had stuffed wool into her lungs. Her uncle's face flashed in her mind. His kind eyes. His crooked smile. The way he used to sneak her sweets when her mother was not looking.

Dead.

Murdered.

By her father.

She looked at Rowan, her voice barely above a whisper. "You are lying."

"I am not."

"You have to be."

Rowan crouched in front of her, his hands resting gently on her knees. His touch was warm, grounding. "Victoria, I know this is difficult. But your uncle made me promise to tell you the truth if you ever tried to leave. He knew your father would try to stop you. He knew why."

Her hands trembled. She pressed them flat against her thighs to stop the shaking. "What truth? What bloodline? I am a Halstead. My father is Lord Halstead. My mother is Lady Halstead. There is nothing special about me."

Kael, who had been silent until now, let out a short laugh. "If there was nothing special about you, your father would not have killed his own brother to keep you locked away."

Victoria flinched. The words hit her like stones.

Rowan shot Kael a sharp look. "Not helping."

Kael shrugged. "She needs to know what she is dealing with."

Victoria stood abruptly, ignoring the pain that shot through her hip. She paced near the fire, her mind racing in ten different directions. "This does not make sense. If my father wanted to protect some secret about my bloodline, why would he arrange my marriage to Cedric? Why not keep me hidden forever?"

Rowan stood as well, watching her carefully. "Because keeping you hidden only works for so long. You are twenty-two years old. People were starting to ask questions. Your father needed a way to control you permanently. Marriage to Cedric would do that."

"Cedric is harmless," Victoria said. "He would not hurt anyone."

"He would not need to," Rowan replied. "Once you married him, you would belong to his family. Your father would have influence over the Ravenshore estate. And you would be far enough away that no one could ask you questions he did not want you to answer."

Victoria stopped pacing. Her head felt foggy, like she had drunk too much wine. "What questions? What am I supposed to know?"

Rowan hesitated. He glanced at Kael, who gave him a small nod.

"Your mother," Rowan said slowly, "is not your real mother."

The world stopped.

Victoria stared at him. "What did you just say?"

"Lady Halstead is not your birth mother. Your real mother died when you were three years old."

Victoria's knees buckled. She grabbed the log to steady herself. "That is impossible. I have memories of my mother. I remember her reading to me. I remember her holding my hand in the garden."

"Those memories are real," Rowan said gently. "But they are not of Lady Halstead. They are of your birth mother. Her name was Elara."

Elara.

The name felt strange in her ears. Foreign. But also oddly familiar, like a song she had heard once and forgotten.

Victoria sank back onto the log. Her voice came out small. "Who was she?"

Rowan sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "She was a healer. She lived in a village near the coast. Your father met her during a diplomatic trip. He fell in love with her. They married in secret."

Victoria's heart pounded. "Why in secret?"

"Because she was not nobility. Your father's family would never have approved. So he kept the marriage hidden. When you were born, he brought you and your mother to live in a small house on the edge of his estate. He visited as often as he could."

Victoria pressed her palms against her eyes. "Then what happened?"

Rowan's voice softened. "When you were three, your mother became ill. Your father called every doctor he could find, but none of them could save her. She died within a week."

Tears burned behind Victoria's eyelids. She did not let them fall. "And then?"

"Your father panicked. He had a daughter but no legitimate wife. His family pressured him to marry someone suitable. Someone who could give him a proper heir. So he married Lady Halstead six months later."

Victoria lowered her hands. Her voice was flat. "And she agreed to raise another woman's child?"

"She did not have a choice," Kael said from across the fire. "Your father paid her family's debts in exchange for the marriage. She needed the money. He needed respectability."

Victoria laughed bitterly. "So my entire life has been a lie."

Rowan turned to face her fully. "Not all of it. Your uncle loved you. He fought to tell you the truth, but your father threatened him. When your uncle discovered something else, something bigger, your father decided he was too dangerous to keep alive."

Victoria looked at him sharply. "What did he discover?"

Rowan hesitated again.

"Tell me," she said firmly. "I deserve to know."

He took a breath. "Your mother, Elara, was not just a healer. She came from a bloodline that had been thought extinct for generations. A bloodline connected to the old royal family of Aveloria."

Victoria's mouth fell open. "The old royal family? They died out a hundred years ago."

"Most of them did," Rowan said. "But not all. Your mother was a distant descendant. Which means you are too."

The fire crackled loudly in the silence that followed.

Victoria stood again, slower this time. She walked to the edge of the clearing and stared into the dark trees. Her mind felt like it was splitting in half. One half screamed that this was ridiculous. The other half whispered that it explained everything.

Why her father controlled her so tightly.

Why he never let her leave the estate alone.

Why he arranged her marriage so carefully.

She turned back to Rowan. "If this is true, if I have royal blood, what does that mean?"

Kael answered before Rowan could. "It means you are a threat. The current king's claim to the throne is not as strong as people think. If anyone found out you existed, they could use you to challenge his rule."

Victoria's stomach dropped. "I do not want to challenge anyone. I do not want a throne. I just wanted to avoid marrying Cedric."

"It does not matter what you want," Kael said bluntly. "It matters what other people think you want."

Rowan stood and walked over to her. He stopped just in front of her, close enough that she could see the firelight reflected in his eyes. "That is why your uncle asked me to protect you. He knew that if you ever left, people would come for you. Not just your father. Others."

Victoria looked up at him. "What others?"

"People who want to use you. People who want to kill you. People who want to put you on a throne you never asked for."

Her throat tightened. "So I am trapped either way. If I go back, my father controls me. If I stay free, I become a target."

Rowan's jaw tightened. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

The way he said it, low and certain, made something warm unfurl in her chest. She studied his face. The scar near his temple. The tired lines around his eyes. The stubborn set of his mouth.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked softly. "You barely know me."

"I made a promise to your uncle," he said. "And I do not break promises."

"Is that the only reason?"

He looked at her for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression. Something softer. "No."

Her breath caught.

Before she could say anything else, Kael's voice cut through the moment. "Someone is coming."

Rowan spun around, his hand immediately going to the hilt of his sword. "How many?"

Kael tilted his head, listening. "Two. Maybe three. Moving fast."

Victoria's pulse spiked. "Trackers?"

"Maybe," Kael said. He grabbed his bow and notched an arrow in one smooth motion. "Or worse."

Rowan moved to Victoria's side, his body tense. "Stay close to me."

She nodded, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her waist.

The forest went silent.

Then footsteps crashed through the underbrush.

A figure stumbled into the clearing.

Not a tracker.

A woman.

Young. Bleeding. Eyes wide with terror.

She collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.

"Please," she choked out. "They are coming. They are right behind me."

Rowan stepped forward. "Who is coming?"

The woman looked up, her face pale.

"The king's soldiers."