Chapter 12
Seven, eight?
No, thirteen, maybe fourteen?
The wolves advanced slowly, circling left and right, closing the distance with wary eyes.
Some were larger than Grey, ready to pounce at any moment.
A terror that felt like death itself pressed down on her.
Grey stood firm behind Ariella, lips curled in a snarl as he growled at the pack.
It was a moment where she truly believed his throat or hers could be ripped open any second.
Then, from afar, Dmitri’s horse thundered forward at terrifying speed.
As though on command, the wolves turned and rushed him.
“No!”
Even Dmitri, skilled as he was, couldn’t possibly defeat so many attackers as one.
“We—we have to help him.
We have to!”
“That’s impossible.
My orders are to protect you, My Lady.
Wolves are nocturnal.
For them to gather like this in daylight it can only be a trap.”
Eric stood locked in place, still facing another pack that lingered, waiting for their chance.
Then Dmitri leapt from his horse.
“No, don’t!”
Ariella clenched her fists, eyes fixed desperately on him.
Had she ever in her life felt this powerless?
A massive wolf lunged, sinking its teeth into Dmitri’s arm.
Ariella shut her eyes tight.
Thud.
Crunch.
Rip.
A chorus of grotesque sounds filled the clearing.
She couldn’t bear it her eyes flew open.
The sight before her was carnage.
His horse lay collapsed under the wolves’ assault, and Dmitri fought on, one huge beast still clamped onto his arm as he struck relentlessly.
Ariella felt her breath stop in her chest.
He pressed forward, cutting down wolves as he advanced toward her.
There was no hesitation in him.
No fear.
His face was cold, unyielding, as if he were chopping wood rather than living creatures.
With each heavy swing, another wolf went flying, spraying blood as it hit the ground.
In his black eyes flickered something strange.
Not anger.
Not terror.
Just an annoyance.
“There was such a time, you know.”
Unbelievably, Gerald’s voice cut through her mind as if whispering from just beyond the tower door.
“The Crown Prince slaughtered an entire noble family people who had willingly opened their castle gates to aid him and his army.
The lady of the house was pregnant, can you imagine?
Even in wartime, it was too cruel.
They say the children were very young as well.
No one could understand why he went that far…”
At that moment, Dmitri severed the neck of the wolf that was clamped on his arm.
The beast’s body spun across the ground, blood spraying in arcs.
His face, too, was drenched in crimson.
“And that wasn’t enough.
He had the family’s heads hung upon the castle gates.
That’s why many say the Crown Prince must be dethroned.”
Their eyes met.
Eyes black as death itself, the eyes of a tyrant who could erase anything that defied him.
“Ah…”
She never knew her memory could be so sharp.
The mombloodiedir blooded faces met.
“How leisurely.”
The scene shifted.
“Your kingdom has fallen.”
Suddenly, she was twenty-two again.
“Helpless, incompetent.”
Winter returned.
The same chill that pierced her even through layered clothes, the same damp air, the same fear.
It all came rushing back.
“Are you hurt?”
Dmitri was beside her now, asking Eric.
The sharp stench of blood rolled through the air.
His voice mixed with a ringing in her ears. His gaze searched her face, relentless, just as it had that day.
“She’s unharmed.”
The remaining wolves began to retreat, step by cautious step.
Just as Ariella thought they had given up, one broke away and charged.
Eric drew his blade but Dmitri stopped him.
“Leave it.
It only wants its mate.”
And indeed, the wolf seized the neck of the limp body lying on the ground.
It struggled, dragging the heavy carcass through the dirt, eyes flashing with terror but refusing to let go.
Slowly, stubbornly, it disappeared back into the woods.
Meanwhile, Dmitri’s gaze combed over Ariella.
She turned away without meaning to.
She should ask about his wound, but the words stuck in her throat.
After a pause, he turned and walked toward his fallen horse.
He knelt, stroking its mane gently.
Then he leaned close, whispered something, and drew his sword.
The blade ended the horse’s suffering in a single motion.
Ariella gasped, her knees buckling.
She collapsed where she stood.
She expected them to return to camp.
Instead, Dmitri, Eric, Grey, and Ariella pressed deeper into the forest.
Dmitri walked ahead, still vigilant.
The sun blazed high overhead.
Ariella’s eyes lingered on his injured arm.
The wound had to be deep.
A wolf’s bite.
Yet he acted as if nothing were wrong.
Only the blood seeping through the cloth wrapped around it betrayed the injury.
She leaned toward Eric, whispering.
“Why aren’t we going back?
His Highness needs treatment.”
“We can’t return yet.
It’s only noon, and Lady Tryphina wouldn’t call off the hunt for something like this.”
Something like this?
Did an arm have to be severed before it counted?
She remembered the letter she had written days before begging her father to annul her marriage before she was locked in the tower.
At the end, she had urged him to allocate more funds to the military.
But now she thought that when she returned to the palace, she would rewrite it.
What was the point of strengthening defences against monsters like these?
Her father summoned royal physicians even if her mother so much as pricked her finger.
Ariella’s shoulders felt unbearably heavy.
They followed the stream upward until they reached a small hill.
The clearing was open, safe from ambush.
“Rest here a while.”
Dmitri glanced around before unfastening his cloak.
Then, without a word, he stripped Eric’s outer garment and spread it neatly over a flat rock.
“Sit.”
So that was it.
“Thank you.”
Ariella sat carefully on the makeshift seat.
Dmitri dropped to the ground before her.
The stream trickled nearby, just enough for washing.
Eric approached.
“I’ll scout the area.”
Scout?
It was supposed to be a hunting festival, but it felt like a battlefield.
Grey settled beside Ariella, panting until his breath gradually evened.
The two sat in silence.
A breeze drifted through, cooling her troubled mind.
Then Dmitri shrugged off his coat.
He rinsed it in the stream with practised motions, then began washing the blood from his skin.
Scarlet swirled into the clear water.
Ariella watched quietly.
Finished, he tossed the wet garment aside.
Ariel picked it up carefully and wrung it dry.
After watching him dispatch more than ten wolves in moments, she found her movements instinctively more reverent.
She spread the fabric out on a sunlit rock.
The sunlight was warm perhaps it would dry quickly.
When she turned back, her breath caught.
Dmitri had stripped off his shirt as well.
He moved with utter disregard for her presence, as if unaware she was there.
It wasn’t just the sight of a half-naked man that startled her.
His back, hard with muscle, was covered in scars.
Old wounds, unmistakable in their origins.
He rinsed his shirt just as carelessly, tossing it aside.
The long, jagged scars twisted like living things across his skin.
She couldn’t look away.
When he finished, he sat again.
He made no effort to hide the new wound or the countless old ones.
The sight of them pricked painfully at her heart.
What on earth happened to you?
Before she knew it, her hand reached out toward the scars.
But before her fi
ngers touched, he spoke softly.
“My father…”
His voice was low, almost detached.
“…liked to hold me down in ice water.”
Her face twisted in shock.
“…Why?”
Dmitri’s shoulders lifted slightly, almost in a laugh.
“Because the pain was worse that way.
Normally, I could endure.
But that—I couldn’t.”
