Warm, golden beams of sunlight spilled through the small carriage window as it slowly rocked over the worn path to Castle Bedford—my new home. With each turn of the wheels over the gravel, the noose, disguised as duty, tightened around my neck. Soon, I would no longer be Princess Monroe of Celermare, but Queen Monroe of Bedford.
Before I could stew on my thoughts of my upcoming betrothal to the Bedford prince, a loud snap pierced through the air and the carriage thudded violently to a stop, nearly throwing me across the seat and into my lady-in-waiting Alice’s lap.
“What was that?” Alice gasped.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll find out.”
I threw open the door and stepped outside. “What seems to be the matter?”
“You should remain inside, your Highness,” said one of the guards who’d been riding on horseback behind the carriage.
Ignoring the guard’s advice, I turned away to inspect the carriage. It sat askew, the right front end just barely touching the ground, the wheel lying beneath it. The outer rim of the wheel and its inner spokes were intact—the wheel had simply come loose from the joint connecting it to the frame. An easy fix.
“Not to worry, Your Highness. We shall handle the matter,” the driver said, coming to stand beside me.
I turned to look at him. “With the right leverage, you should be able—”
“Your Highness, why don’t you and Miss McKay wait inside the first carriage until then,” another of my guardsmen suggested, cutting me off.
I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back the retort I longed to hurl at him, and nodded.
Good princess should be seen, not heard. The voice—my father’s—rattled around in my brain.
“The lady is right,” came a voice from behind. It was deep and rich, and the sound of it sent goosebumps skittering across my skin. I turned toward the voice, and my breath stuttered.
A great white steed approached, and on its back, a Bedford knight. His polished silver armor glinted brightly in the sunlight as he leapt deftly from his horses back.
He dropped into a bow. “Your Highness,” he said.
My tongue, stuck to the roof of my mouth, would not cooperate, so I bowed my head in return.
The knight walked around the carriage, inspecting it. “The wheel is unbroken–a fortunate sign. It seems to only have come dislodged from the frame. If we can prop her up, I can set it right again without much trouble.”
A hint of satisfaction warmed my chest. As I had tried to say, I thought.
Orders were dispatched quickly from the knight, and my guardsmen and driver obeyed without hesitation. The carriage was repaired with practiced efficiency. Before allowing me back inside, the knight instructed the driver to test the wheel’s integrity. When it held up after five successful rotations, he gave a single nod, and the carriage was deemed safe to travel.
“I wish you a smooth journey, Your Highness,” he said, stepping back and bowing once more.
I hesitated, then extended my hand in thanks.
For the briefest moment, he did nothing. His gaze flicked to my hand, then to my face, as though weighing a decision he did not wish to make.
When he finally took it, his touch was careful. His fingers brushed mine, warm and steady, and the contact sent a sharp, unwelcome awareness skittering up my arm.
He released me at once, as though the space between us had grown suddenly dangerous.
My breath caught, though I could not have said why. Before I found my voice, he had already stepped away.
We continued onward to Castle Bedford, yet my thoughts lingered behind on the road we’d left. The memory of the knight returned to me unbidden—the steady green of his eyes, the calm certainty in his voice, the warmth of his touch lingering like an echo in my palm.
I did not know his name, but I knew I would not soon forget him.
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