The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 302: Preparing To Defend

Jessamyn pulled her hood up, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the rough, worn fabric. The hood cast a shadow over her face, hiding her features from the world, but it did nothing to quell the terror that gnawed at her insides.

She squeezed her eyes shut, sending a fervent prayer to the gods above. Please, she begged silently, let him pass by. Let him be oblivious to the trembling woman cowering beneath the roots of this ancient tree.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in her ears, each step a thunderous beat that matched the frantic rhythm of her heart. She could hear him approaching, the crunch of snow beneath his boots growing louder, closer.

And then, suddenly, the sound ceased. Jessamyn’s heart nearly stopped in tandem with the silence that followed. Her entire body went rigid, her breath caught in her throat as she felt his presence loom above her, oppressive and suffocating.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the air around her thick with tension so palpable it pressed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. The man stood mere feet away from the tree where she hid, and Jessamyn knew that any movement, any sound, could spell her doom.

She held her breath, praying that even the faintest whisper of it wouldn’t betray her location. Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably from the cold and fear, and she clenched her jaw, willing herself to be still, to be silent.

From her cramped hiding spot beneath the tree’s gnarled roots, Jessamyn could only see the man’s leather boots. They were caked with snow and mud, the dark leather scuffed and worn from long travel. He remained there for what felt like an eternity, unmoving, as if he were contemplating something.

The silence was unbearable, every second dragging on, amplifying the dread that gnawed at her insides. She could hear the faint rustle of fabric as the man fumbled with something in his pocket. Jessamyn’s heart pounded so loudly she feared it would betray her, and she silently prayed that he would lose interest and leave.

Thump.

The sound echoed in the silence, and Jessamyn’s heart plummeted. The man had jumped down from his perch, his boots landing heavily on the snow-covered ground. The noise reverberated through the stillness, and Jessamyn’s entire body tensed with fear.

He was still clad in his armor, the metal plates clinking softly as he moved. A sword hung at his waist, its hilt worn from use, and the sight of it sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through her veins. Through the small gap in the roots, she watched with wide, fearful eyes as the man began to walk deeper into the forest, his back to her.

Jessamyn forced herself to remain still, every muscle in her body screaming in protest as she remained cramped in her hiding place. The cold had seeped into her bones, making it difficult to stay motionless, but she knew she couldn’t risk being discovered.

Her mind was a whirlwind of fear and desperation, each thought more frantic than the last. And then, without warning, her baby kicked—hard.

A sharp pain shot through Jessamyn’s abdomen, and before she could stop herself, a soft moan of pain escaped her lips.

Her eyes widened in horror, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling any further sound. She couldn’t believe it—her own son, her precious child, had betrayed her in this moment of dire need. Her heart raced as she watched the man, praying with every ounce of her being that he hadn’t heard her.

The man took a few more steps forward, and for a brief, fleeting moment, Jessamyn allowed herself to hope. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he was too preoccupied to care. She was just about to let out a breath of relief when he suddenly stopped and turned around.

Jessamyn’s blood turned to ice. The man’s gaze swept over the forest, his eyes scanning the area with a keen intensity. And then, as if drawn by some unseen force, his gaze landed directly on the tree where she was hiding. His eyes locked onto the spot, unblinking, as if he could see through the layers of bark and roots to the terrified woman concealed beneath.

Panic surged through Jessamyn, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, her mind racing as she tried to think of a way out. But every thought, every plan, was drowned out by the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that gripped her.

She didn’t even have her crossbow—her trusted weapon, the one thing that might have given her a fighting chance. All she had was a stolen dagger. How could she possibly defend herself against a fully armed soldier?

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as despair threatened to consume her. She was trapped, cornered with no way out. The man was walking toward her now, his steps deliberate, each one bringing him closer to her hiding spot.

Jessamyn’s heart pounded in her ears, the sound almost deafening in the oppressive silence of the forest. She clutched the dagger in her trembling hand, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. She was at her wit’s end, and there was no one to save her.

Her son stirred within her, and Jessamyn instinctively rubbed her belly, trying to soothe him. "Please, stay calm," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She needed to stay focused, needed to protect him at all costs. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Her wolf fur coat blended with the darkness of the night, providing some semblance of cover, but Jessamyn had no idea how the man could have spotted her. Was he returning to his men? She could only hope so.

But deep down, she knew the truth. He had seen her, and he was coming for her.

Jessamyn’s mind raced, a storm of fear and desperation. She was in no condition to fight—she was pregnant, exhausted, and alone in a forest crawling with enemy soldiers.

Even if she managed to escape this man, there was an entire battalion stationed nearby, ready to capture her the moment she made a mistake. And if they discovered her identity as the Archduchess of Ayberia, her fate would be far worse than death. She had heard the stories, the terrible things Altanian soldiers did to women, especially those carrying children. The humiliation, the torture—it was too horrible to imagine.

But Jessamyn couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t give up. Jerrick’s words echoed in her mind, a lifeline in the midst of her despair. Stay alive, no matter what.

She had to survive, not just for herself, but for her son. She had to bring him into the world safely, no matter the cost.

The man was almost upon her now, his face twisted in determination. Jessamyn tightened her grip on the dagger, her hand shaking as she prepared to defend herself. She knew her attack would be weak—she was in no condition to fight—but she had to try. As he lunged at her, she slashed at his throat with all the strength she could muster, praying it would be enough.

But the man was quicker, stronger. He blocked her attack with ease, disarming her in a single, fluid motion. The dagger clattered to the ground, useless. Jessamyn gasped as his hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat. His grip was iron-tight, cutting off her air as he lifted her slightly off the ground.

"Annoying," he muttered, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

But then, his words faltered, and his eyes widened as he got a clear look at her face.