Chapter 2

The night was utterly black. I had no idea where I was going, only that I had to keep running, driven by pure instinct to escape Hayes Manor.

Behind me, the torches drew closer and closer. The servants' shouts rang through the darkness like curses hunting me to my grave.

I ran in desperation. My baby seemed to sense my terror and began to whimper.

My heart clenched. "Hush now, my sweet. Mama's here," I whispered against his tiny ear.

I kissed his forehead, my voice raw. "Mama will get us through this."

The shouts grew louder. The firelight nearly licked at my heels.

My strength was failing. My legs buckled beneath me, and I nearly collapsed.

My body, still ravaged by childbirth, had been pushed far beyond its limits. Sharp pains tore through my abdomen, and my vision blurred and swam.

I could not fall. If I did, there would be no getting back up, not for me and not for my child.

Suddenly, something caught my foot.

I stumbled forward and instinctively curled myself around the baby, shielding him with my body as I crashed down.

I tumbled into a shallow hollow overgrown with wild grass, tall enough to swallow me whole.

I lay there on the cold ground, gasping for air, too terrified to move so much as a muscle.

Torchlight swept across the grass above my head. One of the guards shouted, "Nothing here!"

Another voice called back, "Check over there. She just gave birth, and she's wounded. She couldn't have gone far."

The footsteps slowly faded. I huddled in that hollow, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.

The child in my arms must have been exhausted. He had stopped crying, his breathing soft and even.

I looked down at him in the faint moonlight, studying his peaceful sleeping face. My son.

My heart melted for him, and in the same breath, it hardened like stone. For him, I would do anything.

When the night finally fell silent again, I crawled slowly out of the hollow.

I was utterly lost. In all of Kingston, there was nowhere else for me but Hayes Manor.

Should I go back to my family home? No. I could not. I must not.

My cowardly father had long since regarded me as nothing more than a bargaining chip for power and influence.

He would never risk offending Philip, who now basked in the King's favor. He would tie me up himself and deliver me to Hayes Manor to curry Philip's goodwill.

Where could I go? I stood there in the pitch darkness, clutching my child, feeling completely adrift. A cold wind swept through the alley, and I shivered uncontrollably.

No. I had to find shelter.

We were both barely dressed for the cold, and on this frigid early spring night, it would not take long before we froze.

Then a thought flashed through my mind. I had a little cottage.

When I married, my mother had secretly pressed a deed into my hand. It was for a small cottage tucked away in a remote corner of the city, so modest and unremarkable that no one would ever look twice at it.

She'd said, "Helen, this is your escape. If the worst should happen, go there."

I had laughed then and told her she worried too much. Philip and I were so close. Nothing could ever come between us.

But now her fears had become my reality.

I slipped through the dark streets, guided by the rough directions I remembered.

I did not dare take the main roads. I chose the most deserted back alleys, avoiding any glimpse of human life.

Blood trickled from my torn feet, and every step felt like walking on knives, but I forced myself onward.

As dawn began to break, I found the cottage.

It sat at the end of a dead-end lane, a rusted padlock hanging from the door. The whole place was so quiet I could not even hear a dog bark.

I reached inside my clothing and pulled out the tiny key my mother had given me.

It slid into the lock with a faint click.

The door swung open. Holding my child close, I slipped inside and bolted the door behind me.

I leaned against the cold door and finally let out a shaky breath. All the strength drained from my body, and I slid down to the floor, slumping against the door.

The yard was choked with weeds, as if no one had lived here for years. But the cottage itself was still sound.

I pushed open the door, and the musty smell of dust rushed out to greet me.

The room was simple. A bed, a table, a couple of chairs, all buried under a thick layer of dust.

I did not bother with the dust. I laid the child gently on the bed and wrapped him in a sheet that was at least somewhat clean.

Only then did I look at myself.

My knees and calves were scraped and bruised raw. After giving birth and running for my life through the night, my body was barely holding together.

I needed to pull myself together quickly. There was still a long, hard fight ahead.

As I lost myself in thought, faint footsteps sounded outside the gate.

My heart lurched into my throat. Were they Philip's men? Had they tracked me down? Panic flooded through me.

I snatched up a thick stick from beside the door, pressed myself against the wall, and fixed my eyes on the doorway, holding my breath.