Poisoned Queen's Time Leap

The forest grew denser as we ventured deeper into the royal hunting grounds. Autumn had painted the woods in fiery hues of orange and gold, but I found no beauty in it today. My back still ached from the healing lash wounds, each step of my horse sending dull pain through my scarred flesh.

I kept my distance from the main hunting party, trailing several yards behind. The nobles maintained their careful avoidance, treating me as if my alleged treason might be contagious. Only Carson occasionally glanced back, his expression unreadable beneath his hunting cap.

"We should circle back toward the eastern ridge," the huntmaster called, pointing toward a rocky outcropping in the distance. "The stags often graze there this time of year."

Carson nodded his approval, and our party changed direction. Avery rode close beside him, her green silk dress billowing gracefully as she leaned in to whisper something that made him smile. The sight twisted in my chest like a knife.

The first howl came so suddenly that several horses reared in panic, including my own. I gripped the reins tightly, struggling to maintain control of my startled mare.

"Wolves!" someone shouted, and the word rippled through our party like wildfire.

They emerged from the trees like gray shadows—at least a dozen of them, their ribs visible beneath matted fur. Starving wolves, desperate and therefore more dangerous than any well-fed pack.

"Form a circle!" Carson commanded, drawing his sword. "Archers to the center!"

The hunting party scrambled to obey, but panic had already taken hold. Horses whinnied and bucked, throwing riders to the ground. My mare reared violently, and I felt myself sliding from the saddle, unable to maintain my grip with my still-weakened arms. I hit the forest floor hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

A wolf lunged toward me, its yellow eyes fixed on mine. I scrambled backward, fumbling for the small hunting knife at my belt—the only weapon they'd allowed me.

"Carson!" I called out instinctively, my voice breaking with desperation.

He turned, our eyes meeting across the chaos of the hunting ground. For one heartbeat, I saw recognition there—the man who had once sworn to protect me with his life. I reached out a hand toward him.

Then Avery's scream pierced the air. She had dismounted and climbed partway up a nearby oak tree, but a wolf was snapping at her dangling feet, her silk dress already torn at the hem.

"Help me!" she cried, her voice high with terror. "Carson, please!"

I saw the moment he made his choice. His gaze hardened as he looked at me, then he turned his horse and charged toward Avery, leaving me alone on the ground with the wolves closing in.

"Carson!" I screamed again, this time in disbelief rather than hope.

He didn't look back. Not even once.

The nearest wolf lunged at me, and I slashed wildly with my knife, catching it across the muzzle. It yelped and retreated momentarily, but two more took its place, circling me with predatory patience.

I backed away slowly, knife extended before me. The rocky outcropping the huntmaster had mentioned earlier loomed about twenty yards away. If I could reach it, climb high enough...

I made a break for it, running faster than I thought possible on my still-healing legs. Teeth snapped at my heels as I sprinted across the clearing. A searing pain tore through my calf as one wolf managed to catch me, its fangs ripping through flesh and muscle. I cried out but didn't stop, kicking desperately until it released me.

The rocks were slippery with moss, but I scrambled upward, my fingers bleeding as I clawed for purchase. Another wolf leaped, catching my arm in its jaws. I stabbed downward with my knife, driving the blade deep into its eye. The beast released me with a howl of pain, falling back to the ground.

Higher and higher I climbed, until I reached a ledge beyond their reach. Blood streamed from the wounds on my legs and arms, soaking what remained of my hunting clothes. I pressed my back against the cold stone, watching as the wolves circled below, occasionally leaping up only to fall short of my position.

In the distance, I could see the hunting party regrouping. Carson had Avery safely mounted before him on his horse, her arms wrapped around his waist as she buried her face against his chest. They were riding away, back toward the castle.

Leaving me for dead.

As I sat there, bleeding and abandoned, something crystallized within me—harder and colder than the stone at my back. If I survived this, there would be no forgiveness. No reconciliation. Only escape.

And perhaps, someday, justice.