"I was falling. Falling through time and space and stars and sky and everything in between. I fell for days and weeks and what felt like lifetime across lifetimes. I fell until I forgot I was falling." - Jess Rothenberg

Ardam 40

Aelfraed's face in his last moments - that look in his eyes - haunts me in the week following his death. Lord Hoyt lost all interest in any further training the moment he slit my nephew's throat, leaving me cooped up in the cell with only tears and nightmares as a pastime. I consoled myself with the thought that Ria was freed to deliver Friduric's son's head to him - although he might not look kindly on that. He wasn't always unreasonable, so Ria need not fear his rage upon her arrival.

The click of a key turning in the lock of my door interrupts my sombre musings. For a moment I consider grabbing something to assault my captors with, but I doubt my dresses would inflict life-threatening harm. Lord Caith's book is too valuable to desecrate. The strange feeling of being devoid of fear on behalf of Aelfraed's well-being fills me with strange courage as I grab a pencil from my table, preparing to slam it into Hoyt's carotid.

The door opens as I fly off my bed, expecting to see the cruel face of lord Hoyt. The pencil in my hand clatters to the ground.

"You! You are behind this! Why did you -." In two strides Lord Caith is in front of me and puts his hand in front of my mouth. I look up into his unique blue eyes - brighter than the pale sunlight that has been streaming through my prison window during the days. His hand is strong, but his palm is soft on my lips. I would have thought that his hands would have been rougher - with him fighting and all that.

With his other hand, he motions for me to be silent and whispers: "Be quiet. The guards will hear you. Later, when I have rescued you successfully, I will answer your questions."

Nodding, I decide to go with his charade.

He takes his hand away from my mouth, whispering again: "Are your feet bound?"

I nod. "Iron."

He withdraws a dagger, made of a glass-like substance, from the scabbard strapped to his ankle. The hilt is made of gold and inlaid with small blue gemstones - unlike any I have ever seen.

"Lift your dress a little bit up, so I can break the shackles."

Deciding to give a more insightful answer, I bite back a retort about not lifting my dresses up for strange men (or anyone at all, save for my future husband and only when we are married). "It will not work. Iron can only be melted or broken with force."

He ignores me, and lifts the hem of my dress himself with one hand; with the other, he gently strikes the iron, just next to my left ankle. For a moment it looks as if nothing would happen. Then the iron chain anchoring me to the wall breaks, leaving only the iron shackle on my ankle.

"How?"

"Questions later," he hisses. He puts his sword back in its scabbard and withdraws an ordinary dagger from his other ankle. "I am going to make your dress shorter so that you can move more freely." He stabs the knife into the material just below my knees, pulling the knife out and then tearing the material. He studies me from head to toes.

Suddenly I regret not doing more for my appearance this morning. I could've done my hair elaborately or put on jewels (which I manage to have in my trunk), but how was I to know that today would be the day that I would be rescued, and by Lord Caith of all people?

I am starting to believe that he really is here to rescue me.

"Tie your hair," he orders and hands me a smaller strap of cloth cut from my dress.

Yes, I should have done something with my hair. I try to tame it by forcing it into a ponytail, drawing my curls straight before tying it.

"And put on some shoes."

I do not appreciate him giving me orders, but I keep silent: escaping might be easier with a pair of shoes. Those heeled ones - the ones I barely ever wear - would make a killer of a weapon, emphasis on killer.

"Follow me. Do not make a sound." He navigates the tunnels effortlessly, motioning for me to halt as we approach the mouth of the tunnel where pale moonlight creeps into the caves.

Two guards, clad in black, stand with their backs to the tunnel. Adding the question to the list he'll need to answer, I wonder how lord Caith slipped past them. It strengthens my suspicion that he is behind my kidnapping - perhaps as Hoyt's employer.

I realise that I'm frowning and try to wipe it off my face. Instead, it changes to a scowl.

Quickly and silently he makes his way towards the guards, knocking the first unconscious before they can see him. He then grips the second in an iron hold around his neck causing him to slide to the floor before he could utter a word of warning.

"Come, quickly! We only have a few minutes to leave this town before they notice your absence."

Running, I follow him out into a full moonlit landscape of jagged rocks and rundown buildings. The bright stars, scattered in the dark heaven, wink at us as if knowing more about us than we do ourselves.

"You are too slow!" He grabs my hand and tugs me forward as he sprints through a deserted town of buildings made from black rock and brown sandstone bricks.

My ankle almost gives way as I swerve to avoid the holes and uneven roads, causing me to skid on the rocks and pebbles.

Flames and fire! I'm going to get myself killed before I find out where I have been held captive the past month! We are moving too fast for me to spare anything more than a glance.

Some of the buildings have scorched marks covering most of their facades.

The moonlight contributes to the eeriness and desolateness of the scene. I doubt anyone has lived here in centuries.

Suddenly Caith swerves to the left and enters a house. He jerks me so hard that I almost fall. Insults tumble through my head. Of course, I don't voice them.

"Wyss," Caith mumbles.

After a moment of recognising the word, but being unsure of what it means and where I have heard it, I gasp as two horses appear out of thin air.

"Desert!" My heart swells up from seeing my dearest companion. Oh, how I have missed her! For the entirety of my captivity, I feared for my horse. Numerous scenarios played out in my head. The first was that she would be sold. The second was that the cruel men would use her themselves. Then a few other horrible scenarios followed, of which the last was that they would butcher her and serve her to me. For that reason, I didn't really eat the meat they served me, except for when it was chicken.

"Quiet. Do you not understand? You cannot make any noise."

"I did not think that I would ever see her again. I am sorry if you are incapable of emotion or attachment," I hiss.

That was harsh, Aebbé.

I freeze as I realise the implication of reuniting with my beloved Desert. Lord Caith must be my captor. How else did he get my horse?

He scowls at me. "Just mount her. We have to leave, now." With one smooth movement, Caith mounts his horse.

"How did you get my horse?" I clench my teeth. Confronting my captor might not be the best idea, especially if I have no weapon and no idea of where in Ligtland, or even Darke, I am.

He looks annoyed. "Look, Princess, you can stay here or come with me, but I'm really starting to regret coming here. If you want to see your family again, I am your best hope."

Seeing no other option but to comply and entertain him, I bite down on the inside of my lip and mount Desert.

"The horses are bound together by a type of rope made by the elves. Try to keep up."

Lord Caith really needs to work on his manners - maybe I need to do so too. He clicks and his horse starts walking towards the door, Desert immediately following.

Perhaps he truly is here to rescue me. It is too elaborate a ruse to not be so. That doesn't mean that I'm not going to interrogate him at the first possible moment, because there are too many questions that will need answering.

When we exit the house, Caith gently kicks his horse, and it starts to gallop. Not even a moment afterwards, Desert starts galloping too. The dilapidated buildings fly past. A few stray tom cats glare at us from the ledges and edges of the ruins.

Lord Caith gently kicks the flanks of his horse again.

The buildings grow scarcer as I realise that we are making a slow descent. We approach the edge of a steep cliff - moonlight revealing a dark and ominous landscape stretching out at the base. I follow Lord Caith's lead as he halts and dismounts.

"We will have to climb down. This way is too steep for the horses," he tells me over his shoulder. "They will have to take the main way down. The guards won't pay any heed to two horses galloping on their own. The region has a few wild horse packs."

"The guards will see the saddles and bridles."

"They will, but hopefully they won't pay it any heed. If they do, then the horses will offer them a distraction while we attempt to escape."

After hugging her neck, and whispering "I will see you soon, girl," into her warm neck, I reluctantly part with Desert after only getting her back minutes before. I turn my attention back to my rescuer. "I don't see a path."

"There is one." Lord Caith gives his horse a slight pat on its hindquarters. The horse starts to gallop back in the direction that we came from. Desert is obliged to follow when the rope tugs her forward. The horses disappear from my view when they take another turn.

The moon disappears behind black clouds as I peer over the verge - not sure whether not being able to see anything is good, or if it should terrify me out of my senses.

"We have to start moving. Follow in my footsteps."

"You didn't happen to bring a rope, did you?"

"Yes, but it is in my horse's saddle. It is too short anyway."

I roll my eyes as I mutter. "Genius."

We start our descent. The shackle chafing my ankle grows heavier with every step on the too-narrow, too-steep path. Thorn bushes and weeds make the difficult descent almost impossible. Even though the thorns claw away at my legs, I sigh in relief as I realise that it would have been disastrous if my dress was still its original length.

The world gives way as my foot slides from the ledge into the abyss as I take a wrong step. There isn't time to time to think about swearing as the distance between me and the path grows. Everything happens so quickly, but yet so slowly that I see everything: Caith looking at me with horrid apprehension in his crystal eyes; the looming darkness at the base of the cliff; and my regrets and unfulfilled desires tumbling in my mind's eye. My arms flail out, finding nothing to grab onto.

Lord Caith effortlessly reaches out and grabs my forearm, before pulling me up. After encircling my waist with his arm, he slams me into the cliff wall behind us.

I stare at him wide-eyed, panting. "I just almost died."

"Yes, you might have died. Everyone dies at some point - except if you are truly unfortunate."

"Thanks, that is very comforting." I try to sound sarcastic, but the fright I just had doesn't really leave space for that.

"We must move. The way down is still very long, and the dangerous part is still ahead."

"I think that this part already qualifies as being murderous."

He gives a friendly snort.

I am glad to report that the rest of our descent was uneventful, if you omit the other three times the ground just gave way beneath my feet (and I was obviously rescued by Lord Caith), or the rock that fell from the sky (there is no other feasible explanation, because it came in from the side) and would have bashed my brains in if he didn't push me out of the way, but luckily I ended up only having a nasty, burning scrape on my temple.

The world seemed determined to kill me or force Caith to continue being my knight in shining armour, which made me grudgingly thankful and indebted to him. I have no idea how I would be able to repay this life-debt to him. He's saved me so many times now that I wouldn't hold it against him if he killed me to start cashing in - not that that would be the best way to do so.

Ugh. I never thought I'd be a typical damsel in distress.