Draven stared at the girl, his sword still dripping with blood. The soft glow of the moon illuminated her delicate features—golden hair, deep blue eyes, and an air of defiance despite the fear still lingering in them.
She was clearly nobility, but what was a princess doing alone in the middle of the forest, surrounded by bandits?
Before he could ask, she took a cautious step toward him.
"You—you're fast," she murmured, her voice tinged with both awe and suspicion.
Draven flicked the blood off his blade before sheathing it. "And you're reckless." He glanced at the dead bandits. "They would have killed you if I hadn't shown up."
The girl crossed her arms, her confidence returning now that the danger had passed. "I was handling it."
Draven arched an eyebrow. "Is that what you call screaming?"
She scowled. "I wasn't screaming. I was—" She stopped herself and let out a sigh. "Fine. Maybe I was in trouble. But I didn't ask for your help."
Draven shook his head. "You didn't have to."
Silence fell between them. The princess finally looked away, brushing dirt from her tattered dress. Draven took the opportunity to examine her attire—made from the finest silk, though torn from her frantic ride. The pendant around her neck confirmed her status.
"You're royalty," he stated.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. My name is Seraphina."
Draven didn't react. He had never cared for the affairs of nobles. Their problems were far removed from the life he lived in the village.
"Where were you going?" he asked.
She hesitated again. "Away."
Draven frowned. "Away from what?"
Seraphina bit her lip, glancing toward the forest path. "It doesn't matter. I just need to leave before—"
The distant sound of hooves interrupted her.
Seraphina's face paled. "No."
Draven followed her gaze. A group of armored riders emerged from the trees, their torches casting flickering shadows against the trunks. They wore the crest of a noble house—likely Seraphina's.
"Princess Seraphina!" one of the riders called. "We've been searching for you. The king commands your return at once!"
Seraphina clenched her fists.
Draven watched the tension in her face and the way she instinctively took a step back. It was clear—she didn't want to go with them.
He could have walked away. He had no reason to interfere in royal matters.
But something about the way she looked at the approaching soldiers—like a trapped bird about to be caged—made him pause.
"You're running from them," he said.
Seraphina met his gaze. There was a flicker of desperation in her eyes before she masked it with defiance. "It's none of your concern."
Draven exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching near his sword. The rational thing to do was let her go. The guards would take her back to wherever she came from, and his life would return to normal.
But he had never been one to do the rational thing.
As the riders drew closer, Seraphina grabbed his arm. "Please," she whispered. "Don't let them take me."
Draven made his decision.
The lead rider dismounted, stepping toward them. "Step aside, boy. The princess is coming with us."
Draven didn't move.
The guard narrowed his eyes. "You don't want to get involved in this."
Draven met his stare, unflinching. "Seems I already am."
The air grew tense. The guards exchanged glances, realizing he wasn't going to comply.
Seraphina held her breath.
Then, one of the guards reached for his sword.
Draven moved.
In a blur, he lunged forward, striking with speed and precision. He grabbed the nearest guard's wrist, twisting it violently. The man yelped in pain as his sword clattered to the ground.
The others reacted too late. Draven spun, delivering a kick to another rider's chest, sending him sprawling off his horse.
Seraphina gasped as chaos erupted around them.
"Run!" Draven commanded.
Seraphina didn't hesitate. She turned and bolted into the trees.
Draven ducked as a blade slashed toward him. He countered, knocking the weapon aside before delivering a swift punch to the soldier's jaw. The man crumpled.
Another guard lunged. Draven parried the attack and struck his opponent's leg, sending him to his knees. He didn't bother finishing the fight. Time was against him.
He turned and sprinted after Seraphina.
"After them!" a guard shouted.
The sound of hooves thundered behind them.
Draven pushed forward, his body moving with the precision of a trained warrior. He spotted Seraphina ahead, struggling to run in her ruined dress.
"Keep going!" he urged.
She stumbled but didn't stop.
The forest became their ally, the thick trees slowing the mounted soldiers. But they weren't far behind.
Then, up ahead, the river.
Seraphina skidded to a stop. "There's no bridge!"
Draven grabbed her hand. "Then we swim."
Without waiting for an argument, he pulled her forward and leaped.
Cold water engulfed them.
The guards shouted from the riverbank, unable to follow on horseback.
Draven surfaced, gasping for air. He grabbed Seraphina, pulling her along as they fought against the current. The river carried them downstream, away from their pursuers.
By the time they reached the opposite shore, the soldiers were no longer in sight.
Seraphina coughed, pushing wet hair from her face. "That was insane!"
Draven smirked. "You wanted to escape, didn't you?"
She stared at him, breathing heavily. Then, to his surprise, she laughed.
For the first time that night, her eyes held something other than fear.
Freedom.