PROLOGUE

She ran.

The night was dark and she could barely see, so she stumbled upon every rock and every root that lay on the road. Her feet were torn and bloody, and her breath came in quick, exhausted gasps, yet she could not stop. If she did, they'd find her. So she ignored the pain and the tiredness and kept running.

They almost caught her, twice. The first time was when she was barely out of the Red Keep. The second time was a couple of days later, on the Kingsroad. She cursed her own stupidity and never set foot on the road again. She wound her way through the thick undergrowth a few yards away from the path where she'd easily be seen.

She knew it was only five days. Five short days since she'd gathered her courage and left the golden cage they'd kept her in. But it felt much longer than that. Never in her entire life had she been this tired, or this sore. The fifth morning slowly became the fifth afternoon, and then the sun began to disappear from up above her until the thick treetops made the forest dark again.

And it was when she stumbled again and felt the warmth of blood seep in between her fingers that she fell and could not move again. Her body was wrecked by sobs. What was I thinking? What in the world was it that made her think that she could reach home? She was completely lost and completely alone. She leaned back against one of the tree trunks and closed her eyes. Only for a few moments. Only for a little while. Only until I catch my breath.

But after a few moments she could not move. She sat and cried. Perhaps they have stopped looking for her, or perhaps they'd wait until morning until they set out again. It was safe to sleep for a night, she told herself. And when her eyes were slowly drifting shut, she heard it. The sound was faint, but she'd know the sound of hooves anywhere. It was the sound of her nightmares.

So she forced herself to get up and ran again. Her chest burned and she could see nothing through the watery veil of tears. The sound of hooves was nearer now than it had been, and panic seized her heart. She could not go back. She would not go back.

Then the horse was behind her and she could feel its breath on her neck. She let out a scream, a blood-curdling scream, when a hand grabbed the neckline of her torn gown and lifted her up into the air. She fought, kicking and screaming and biting. But the rider would not let go.

"Seven help me, but if you will not be still I will cut your throat, little bird."