Florence POV:
The carriage rattled down the dark, unpaved road. Prince Alaric sat across from me, clutching his bleeding forehead, his eyes burning with a venomous hatred that was almost comical.
I watched him, my face impassive. From the sleeve of my ruined dress, I produced a slender silver needle, as fine as a strand of hair, taken from the sewing kit I had grown up with in this life.
Alaric's eyes widened in alarm. "What do you think you're doing?"
I didn't answer, simply waiting. My body was already working, my advanced knowledge of biology allowing me to break down the lingering toxins molecule by molecule.
The carriage hit a rough patch of road, lurching violently as it entered the winding mountain pass.
This was my chance.
I lunged forward, my movements a blur. The silver needle found its mark, sliding precisely into a nerve cluster at the base of his neck.
Alaric let out a choked gasp and went limp, slumping against the velvet seat. His entire body was paralyzed. Only his eyes, wide with terror, could move.
I leaned over him, a cold smile playing on my lips. "Don't worry," I whispered. "It's only temporary. You should be thanking me. This is far more merciful than the poison you and my dear sister planned for me."
I ordered the terrified driver to continue deeper into the Foggy Mountains. Buried in my memories was a place—New Moon Manor, an abandoned Sharpe property with a natural healing spring. It was my destination.
When we reached a sharp turn at the edge of a cliff, I told the driver to stop.
I opened the door and dragged Alaric out of the carriage like a sack of garbage.
I hauled his useless body to the cliff's edge. Then, I forced the driver to guide the horses until the wheels of the magnificent royal carriage teetered on the precipice.
With a final, satisfying shove, I kicked him.
He tumbled into the abyss, followed by the carriage, a final, crashing symphony of splintering wood and royal arrogance.
After dealing with the trash, I moved alone through the woods, relying on memory to guide me toward New Moon Manor. The terrain was difficult, but my past life as a special operative had given me a physical foundation that my body was quickly re-learning.
Half an hour later, I saw it—an ancient manor shrouded in moonlight and mist.
I expertly navigated around the few decaying traps on the manor's perimeter and found the natural hot spring, glowing under the moon.
The water smelled faintly of herbs, exactly what I needed to purge the last of the poison.
I shed the cumbersome gown, ready to step into the healing water.
But I stopped.
My senses, honed by years of survival, screamed a warning.
Through the rising steam, I saw the silhouette of a man. He sat with his back to me, his broad shoulders and the powerful lines of his back stark against the moonlight.
My private sanctuary was occupied.
I moved silently, creeping closer to identify the intruder.
As if sensing my presence, the man slowly turned.
His face was breathtakingly handsome, with features so sharp and deep they looked carved from stone. A pair of dark blue eyes, as sharp as a hawk's, met mine through the night.
But his face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if he were enduring immense pain.
He was sitting on the stone steps of the spring, his legs submerged in the water. Beside him rested an exquisitely crafted wheelchair.
My voice was laced with ice. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my spring?"
The man's gaze swept over me, lingering for a fraction of a second on the ugly scar on my face before moving on. His tone was flat, yet held an unquestionable authority. "Your spring? This manor, and the entire mountain it sits on, were purchased by me three days ago."
I froze. My last refuge, the one place I thought I could recover, was gone?
The poison inside me, agitated by the night's exertions, surged again. A wave of dizziness washed over me.
I had to get into that water. Now.
I looked at the powerful man before me and knew this night was far from over.
