Chapter 9: Into the Wild

The car rocked for sixteen whole days. Each bump reminded me I was leaving everything behind. I watched the scenery blur by, practicing names—June, Grace, Hope. None of them fit. My mind wandered back to Mom’s stories.

But I barely knew any words, and by the time we reached the northwest, I still hadn’t picked a name.

The guards in the front seat talked in low voices, faces unreadable. I fiddled with my dress, hoping the right name would come by the time we arrived. The landscape grew wilder, the air colder.

As dusk fell, I saw a tall, burly man waiting at the city gate.

His silhouette loomed against the setting sun. My heart hammered, and I shrank back in my seat.

He rode a horse, raising a cloud of dust. Without a word, he yanked open the car door and lifted my bridal veil with a knife.

The blade glinted in the last light. He didn’t smile, didn’t say hello—just sliced the ribbon and flipped the veil aside. The smell of leather and smoke hit me.

Could this be the king?

His presence filled the air, commanding and dangerous. My stomach twisted.

His hair was wild, beard thick and scruffy—like a grizzly bear straight out of a wilderness magazine.

I thought miserably, maybe a marriage alliance isn’t good at all.

The fantasy faded, replaced by dread. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move.

The guards and maids got real quiet as we entered the city, not daring to breathe. I was so scared my face turned pale.

“What’s your name?” the big man asked, looking me over.

His voice rumbled like thunder. I shrank into myself, wishing I could disappear.

I answered, trembling, “I... I don’t have a name.”

My words barely made it past my lips. I stared at the floor, afraid to look up.

“No name?”

He frowned, glared, and snapped at the man behind him, “Boss, the governor’s damn wife tricked us. Sent over a nameless blonde girl.”

His words bit like frost. I realized then that I was just a pawn in a game I barely understood.

He dragged me out of the car and toward the mansion.

The stones scraped my knees, but I didn’t dare cry out. The mansion loomed, windows dark and unwelcoming.

I was so scared I forgot to cry, just kept shaking.

The big man threw me to the ground and said to the man on the throne, “Boss, this blonde girl isn’t the governor’s daughter at all.”

I glimpsed the man on the throne—broad shoulders, crown of dark curls, face shadowed by candlelight.

Before I could react, he was gripping my neck.

His fingers were like iron bands, squeezing tight. I gasped, choking, fear blinding me.

“If it’s not her, then kill her and have them send another.”

His voice was low and hoarse, like a vengeful ghost.

Every word was a verdict. I clawed at his hand, desperate to breathe.

I started hiccuping from crying, lifted my face and shouted, “I’m the governor’s daughter! I’m the governor’s daughter! I just don’t have a name!”

My voice broke, rising in panic. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the end.

After seeing the man’s face clearly, I was stunned, and blurted out a name I had almost forgotten. “Alex.”

The name tumbled out, a lifeline in the darkness. I clung to it, praying it would save me.