A Royal Obligation
Chapter 253: The Fugitive’s Plight (1)

Chapter 253: The Fugitive’s Plight (1)

The hawk’s lifeless body lay a few feet away, the bloodied arrow still lodged in its side. Jareth’s gaze flickered to it, his face twisting in despair, knowing the bird’s mission had failed, just as he had.

Alaric motioned to the archer, who stepped forward and grabbed Jareth by the arm, yanking him to his feet with little regard for his discomfort. "You should be grateful I’m dragging you to the dungeon and not dealing with you here and now," Alaric said with a sneer, his tone laced with venom. "But don’t mistake mercy for leniency. You’ll tell us everything, whether you like it or not."

Jareth’s protests dissolved into incoherent mumbling as the archer bound his hands tightly behind his back, the ropes biting into his skin. Alaric’s sharp eyes never left him, his expression a mixture of contempt and quiet satisfaction. With a satisfied clink, Alaric sheathed his sword and turned sharply on his heel, motioning for the guards to follow.

The walk back to the palace was heavy with tension, the sound of Jareth’s stumbling feet and muffled grunts breaking the silence. As they entered the dungeon, the torches lining the halls cast long, flickering shadows, each movement making the place feel alive with an eerie presence. The air was damp and heavy, a mixture of mildew and despair that seeped into the soul of anyone who lingered there too long.

Jareth’s breaths came in shallow gasps, his mind racing with fear and regret. He should have known better than to underestimate the vigilance of Zephyros’ general. He had grown too used to the luxury of evasion, too confident in his own abilities. His arrogance had made him reckless, and now he would pay the price.

Alaric’s lips curled into a grim smile as they approached a cell entrance, its iron door foreboding. "Welcome to your new home," he said mockingly, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls. "Don’t worry, Jareth. We’ll make sure you’re... comfortable while you tell us everything."

The heavy iron door creaked open, the sound grating against Jareth’s already frazzled nerves. Before he could brace himself, rough hands shoved him inside. The cold, unforgiving stone floor met him with a thud, and the door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the chamber like a death knell.

Alaric turned to the archer, his expression shifting from mockery to stern resolve. "Notify the king," he ordered. "Tell him we’ve caught the traitor. And retrieve that bird...it may hold valuable information."

The archer saluted without hesitation, disappearing down the corridor with measured urgency. Alaric lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the cell door as if he could see through it, into the mind of the man he had just imprisoned.

What other secrets have been whispered within these walls? He clenched his jaw. One thing was certain: Prince Kaelix’s plan was working.

---

The morning sun broke over the horizon, golden light spilling across the forest where Carl and Amelia had spent the night in hiding. Exhaustion tugged at their limbs, the adrenaline of their escape fading into weariness. But Carl knew they couldn’t afford to stop for long. Every moment spent idle was a moment closer to capture.

Amelia sat against the trunk of a large oak, her hair disheveled and her dress torn from the frantic escape. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to collect herself. Her dark eyes, however, burned with a mixture of fear and anger as they locked onto Carl.

"You dragged me into this," she hissed, her voice low but venomous. "Like seriously, don’t you have a plan?"

Carl crouched nearby, his sharp eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. His usually confident expression was tight with worry, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Don’t pretend like you didn’t want to come with me," he shot back, his tone clipped. "You chose to come with me, or you would have tried to escape from me."

Amelia let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tense silence. "What are you even talking about? You forced me to aid your escape." She shook her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You also forced me to come with you. Don’t act like I had a choice."

Carl’s jaw clenched, his patience fraying. "If that makes you feel better, then let’s go with it."

Before she could snap back, Carl changed the subject abruptly, his voice hardening. "We’ll head west," he said, his tone resolute. "Toward Neomenia. Once we cross into the lowlands, we’ll be out of Mbuzuoria’s reach."

Amelia frowned, her brow furrowing in disbelief. "The lowlands? That’s suicide. They’re unguarded for a reason, bandits, wild beasts... and what about Neomenia? Do you think they’ll just let you stroll through their territory?"

Carl’s gaze darkened, his lips curling into a grim smile. "I’d rather face bandits than my father’s blade."

Amelia opened her mouth to argue, but the distant sound of voices cut her off. Carl shot to his feet, his posture tense, his hand instinctively moving to the small dagger at his belt.

"They’re close," he muttered under his breath, grabbing Amelia by the arm and pulling her to her feet.

"Your Highness, I..."

"Quiet!" he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. Dragging her into the undergrowth, they moved swiftly and silently, the damp earth muffling their footsteps as they wove through the dense forest.

---

Moments later, Carl and Amelia reached the river just as the sun climbed higher into the sky. The water rushed past them, clear and cold, its current stronger than Carl had anticipated. He glanced at Amelia, who stood frozen at the riverbank, staring at the water with a mix of apprehension and exhaustion.

"Can you swim?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.

"Not well," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

Carl sighed, removing his cloak and rolling it into a bundle. "Hold onto me. We’ll cross together."

"Are you serious?" Amelia hissed. "That current could sweep us both away!"

"Do you have a better idea?" Carl shot back, his tone sharp.

Amelia hesitated, the fear in her eyes warring with her resolve. Finally, she nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he waded into the river. The icy water bit at their skin, and the current threatened to drag them downstream with every step. Carl gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he fought against the flow.

"Don’t let go," he growled, his voice barely audible over the roar of the water.

After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the opposite bank, collapsing onto the muddy shore in a heap. Amelia coughed violently, her lungs burning as she spat out a mouthful of water. Her face was pale, her entire body trembling from the ordeal. She pushed herself up on shaky arms, glaring at Carl with a mixture of exhaustion and fury.

"That was insane," she said, her voice unsteady. "You could’ve gotten us killed!"

Carl, equally breathless, sat up and leaned back against a tree trunk, wiping water from his face. His lips twisted into a faint smirk despite their predicament. "But we didn’t die," he said matter-of-factly, his tone laced with defiance. "We’re alive. That’s what matters."

Amelia scoffed, running a hand through her damp, tangled hair. "Barely." She shot him a glare. "And for what? Running to some forsaken land with no plan? You really think this is going to work?"

Carl’s expression hardened, his smirk disappearing. "We don’t have time for this, Amelia," he said, his voice low and sharp. "Arguing isn’t going to change where we are or what we have to do."

Amelia opened her mouth to retort but stopped as Carl pushed himself to his feet, his gaze scanning their surroundings. "We need to keep moving," he said. "They’re not far behind, and the river won’t stop them for long."

Reluctantly, Amelia got to her feet, brushing mud from her torn dress. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface, but she followed Carl as he began to lead them deeper into the forest.

After hours of trudging through the dense underbrush, their path finally opened up to a clearing. Before them stood an old, abandoned mansion, its stone walls partially hidden by creeping vines and overgrown foliage. The structure loomed like a ghost from the past, its broken windows and crumbling facade giving it an eerie, haunting presence.

Amelia stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight. "What is this place?" she asked warily.

Carl didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the mansion, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke. "We’ll rest here," he said curtly, motioning for her to follow.

Amelia hesitated. "Rest here? Are you insane? This place looks like it’s ready to collapse! Not to mention who, or what, might already be inside."

Carl turned to face her, his gaze cold and unwavering. "We don’t have a choice," he said. "It’s either this or risk being caught in the open. If you’d prefer that, you’re welcome to go back."

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