Chapter 7 Escape - I

• Time seemed to have stilled.
• The shadows cast by the fireplace grew and danced on the dark walls of the room like silent observers, but Eulalia didn't care. Sitting on the edge of the bed for long minutes, she observed the shaggy carpet under her bare feet and the luxurious furniture around her with barely disguised contempt. Velvet cushions, hand-embroidered tapestries, gilded chandeliers… everything there screamed power and wealth, but to her, they were nothing more than grating disguised as beauty.
• Perhaps any other girl would have marveled at every corner; she herself had dreamed of marrying a prince and living in a golden castle, but that castle was nothing like her dreams, and her king was far from a prince; he was, in fact, a beast.
• The young woman stood up and began pacing back and forth, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw clenched in anger. Her long hair, with the trimmings put on for the harvest feast, completely messed up now, slipping down the straight black strands, swayed as she moved along with the movement of her hips.
• “A rug like that would pay for the annual expenses of my house for a month,” she muttered to herself. “But no matter how rich he and this place are, I'm still a prisoner.”
• She stopped in front of the fireplace and watched the fire for a moment. The heat of the flames should have warmed her, but it was as if the cold of the situation and Alaric's gaze had taken root inside her. She took a deep breath, then turned towards the window, a huge wooden-framed structure that took up almost the entire side wall of the room. The thick fabric curtain partially covered it, but Eulália walked over and pulled the fabric tight, revealing the world outside.
• The moon was high, pale, and majestic, casting a silvery glow over the forest that surrounded the pack. The wind howled outside, just like the wolves that had brought her there, but the air seemed more breathable than inside that room. Down below, the fortress gardens were plunged into silence and shadow.
• Unlike when she had arrived, there was no one else about; apparently everyone had gone to sleep, leaving the room in pure silence.
• She leaned her hands on the window frame, her heart beating fast in her chest.
• “I'm not staying here; I'm nobody's property,” she said, her clear eyes fixed on the forest that stretched away until she was out of sight. “If he thinks he can lock me up like a bird in a cage, he'll find out that not all prey surrender.”
• So she turned around, taking advantage of the fact that she was unsupervised to do what she wanted to do most, run away.
• Determined, she began to pull the sheets off the bed, one by one, tying them in tight knots. Then she tore the curtain off with force, cutting pieces with a decorative dagger she found on the dressing table. Her fingers were shaking, not from fear but from adrenaline.
• He hurriedly braided the fabrics into a long, sturdy rope.
• “This is crazy… but it's less crazy than waiting here for him to decide what to do with me,” she muttered, tying one end of the makeshift rope to the foot of the heavy, carved wooden bed.
• She pulled hard to make sure it was secure.
• It was ready.
• She climbed into the window frame with difficulty, the skirts of her dress hindering her movements. The cold wind hit her face, blowing her black hair back and making her beautiful face more visible, now bathed in the silver moonlight. Eulalia took one last look at the room.
• “Nobody's going to keep me here,” she whispered excitedly, and then began to climb down.
• The rope swayed and slipped, and her hands burned from the friction of the fabric. She climbed down little by little, trying to keep her footing, trying not to fall as it was too high and a fall from up there could cause serious injury. He descended slowly and as quietly as he could, but unfortunately the fabrics weren't enough to reach the ground.
• With only a few meters to go, Eulália looked down and bit her lower lip hard.
• “Come on… It's not that high,” she tried to convince herself, swallowing dryly; it really wasn't that high, but that didn't mean she couldn't get hurt. “Right… There's no other way!”
• So she let go, jumping towards the ground.
• “Ahh!” she shouted as she hit the hard, damp ground of the lower courtyard, a dry crack echoing through the night as her ankle twisted as soon as it touched the cold grass.
• The pain rose like a flame up his leg.
• “Damn it…” she groaned, rolling onto her side and trying to get up, her body shaking, and tears of frustration began to run down her face without her permission.
• There was a medium-sized graze on her calf, a part of which ended up hitting the stone of the wall as she fell and bruising the skin, causing blood to ooze out. Her ankle was red and beginning to swell, but none of this stopped her. Eulália got up stumbling and then started running again as best she could.
• She had to keep going.
• Inside the castle, Alaric was in a hall next to the great main hall, standing in front of an open map on the table studying some strange movements of renegades near his territory. He heard the muffled sound coming from outside. His gaze, previously focused on the plans for the next border patrol, lifted in an instant. His heightened senses picked up something besides the sound—the smell. The smell of her, mixed with sweat, fear… and blood.
• “Can't you be quiet for a second, you damn human?” he shouted angrily.