The sun was barely above the horizon when they departed Sighișoara, the Prince leading a small vanguard of some eight hundred soldiers while many more—perhaps eight thousand in total—trailed behind, led by his various commanders. Katherine watched the procession with a wary eye, seated astride a tall bay mare whose velvet-brown coat rippled under a fine black saddle. The Prince's gift, no doubt. She could feel every step the mare took, the powerful muscles bunching beneath her.

She heard a low murmur of disapproval among a few of the soldiers as they noticed she did not ride sidesaddle. But Katherine had no patience for the pretense of nobility. She settled comfortably, both legs astride, ignoring any scandalized looks. When she urged her mount forward to join the main group, the Prince turned toward her with a faint spark of amusement in his dark eyes.

"I see you prefer your freedom," he said quietly, letting his gaze linger on her seat. "You ride like a man, Lady Katherine."

Katherine lifted her chin but offered no reply. The cloak the maids had given her fluttered behind her as she urged the horse into a canter, just enough to keep pace with the Prince's escort. Her new gown and pearls felt at odds with her determined posture on the saddle—one foot in each world, neither wholly noble nor wholly servant. Around her, the retinue pressed forward, the steady thud of hooves muffled by the snow-packed road.

They made their way into the forested foothills before midday. The land rose and fell in gentle, undulating slopes, the pines and firs heavy with snow. Up ahead, the Prince rode with a small knot of his personal guard, speaking in low tones to a commander. Katherine wavered at the rear, letting a wall of black-armored cavalry stand between them. Her mind churned with thoughts of escape, refusing to be lulled by the white hush of winter.

At last, an opening presented itself. A bend in the road veered left, and the Prince and his guard curved out of sight behind thick pines. Katherine dug her heels into the mare's flank. The horse sprang forward, instantly sensing her urgency, and bolted off the main path. Shouts from behind—soldiers, startled at her reckless move—echoed in the crisp air. Snow fanned out in a flurry under the mare's galloping hooves.

She raced into the heart of the forest, guiding the horse between close-knit trunks. Needles scraped her cheeks, branches lashed at her cloak. She did not look back. Tree after tree blurred by, the ground rising beneath her in a series of ridges and hollows. The only sound was the rasp of the mare's breath, the pounding of her heart echoing Katherine's own.

I might outrun them, she thought, hope flickering to life.

But the optimism was short-lived. No matter how fast or how far she went, the sense of being pursued never lifted. The stillness of the wintry pines seemed too complete. Finally, she looked behind her—and that was when she saw them. Wolves. Pale grey forms gliding silently among the trees, eyes gleaming with more than simple hunger. Three, then four, then five shapes appeared in the gloom. They made no overt rush, only matched her speed, fanning out in a loose arc. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

Panicking, she urged the mare into an even fiercer gallop, leaning low over the animal's neck. The crisp air whipped her face, slicing tears from her eyes. Still the wolves stayed with her, not closing the distance but refusing to lag behind. It was almost as if they were corralling her, shepherding her deeper into the forest rather than pouncing.

A flash of movement ahead made her jerk on the reins, and the mare reared, nearly unseating her. Another wolf stood on a snow-clad ridge, watching with an unsettling calm. The animal did not bare its teeth or growl; it merely stared.

Katherine realized then that this was no ordinary pack. They did not behave like typical wolves that might chase stray game. They were...waiting for something—or someone. A cold dread sank into her bones.

No sooner had the thought taken shape than she heard the rhythmic drum of a single horse's hooves approaching from behind. The wolves began to shift away, drifting back among the trees as if summoned. Katherine whirled in the saddle, breath catching.

The Prince emerged from the shadows, his black stallion nearly silent on the snowy ground. For a moment, the two of them faced each other: the trembling runaway and the man who had arranged this entire pursuit. She glanced around, seeing the wolves melt into the underbrush, flickering like ghosts between the trunks. Not one of them snarled or snapped. It was as though some unspoken command had sent them away, as though the Prince had willed them to fade.

Katherine's heart pounded so fiercely she could hardly breathe. Fear tightened her throat—but defiance burned just as strongly in her eyes. She drew the mare's head up, forcing herself not to cower.

He did not move closer. Instead, he spoke in an even tone, his voice carrying through the hush of the pine boughs. "That was unwise, Lady Katherine."

She lifted her chin. "You set them on me," she said, forcing the words past the knot of terror in her throat.

A faint smile brushed the corners of his mouth. "You are unharmed. Had I not intervened, the outcome might have been different."

She glared, unwilling to show gratitude. Her pulse still hammered with the raw memory of those wolfish shapes streaking through the snow. "Why?" she demanded. "You've made me your prisoner—yet you set me free, only to give chase. Do you think it amusing to terrorize me?"

His expression was unreadable. "You misunderstand. Though I believed you might try to flee, I prefer not to see you torn apart by beasts—or lost in these mountains. There are far greater dangers lurking here than wolves."

Katherine's anger warred with her lingering fear. She was not so naive as to think he had saved her out of mercy. The memory of the wolves obeying him—or at least, responding to his presence—sent a chill skittering down her spine. Slowly, she controlled her breathing, though her knuckles remained white against the reins.

"You cannot keep me forever," she said, her voice shaking with mingled frustration and determination.

He studied her for a moment, dark eyes unmoving. "For now, you will rejoin my entourage. And you will ride with us to Poenari Castle. If you attempt another escape"—he tilted his head toward the line of pines where the wolves had vanished—"I cannot guarantee it will end as well."

Her lips compressed into a tight line. She glanced at the mare's flank, noticing how badly the poor creature quivered with exertion. There was no question of outrunning him now—or the wolves, if they still lurked among the shadows.

Head held high, she guided her horse to turn back toward the road. The Prince's stallion swung in beside her, his gait so graceful it hardly disturbed the snow. Neither spoke. Katherine refused to plead or beg for mercy, and the Prince seemed content to let silence drape the forest once more.

In this quiet, ominous truce, she followed him out of the woods—back to the path where the soldiers waited, the shadows of the wolves behind her, and the unknown challenges of Poenari ahead.