**THE PRINCESS SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE, and considered a sequel to THE GOLDEN QUEEN/A BRAZEN LOVE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE GOLDEN UNIVERSE NOVELS AND THE BRAZEN NOVELS TO READ THIS SERIES! AS WELL AS BOOK ONE, PRINCESS OF CANDOR, AND...
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♪ Now we're too far gone, for me to save And I never thought that we'd come to this ♪
Cordelia wasn't sure how many days had passed since the heroic and bloody rescue from the seaside mansion, but she believed a week or so had gone by. A week of cramped quarters inside a carriage, with two tall, moody, and smelly men. A week of exhaustion from not being able to fully disclose the depth of her feelings to Helen, the reassurance she'd experienced when seeing she was alive and well.
The smells of the ocean had faded to those of forests of pines. The noise had drifted from chirping birds to cows in pastures to nothing but the hoofbeats of the horses pulling the transport. They never traversed any cities, to avoid detection, and only stopped at small farming houses that weren't known affiliates of Napoléon and his goons. When they did stop, it was never for long. Only to replenish their stock of snacks—cheese, dried bread, apples—or to receive a warm meal of stew or soup before getting back on the road.
She had no clue where they were, how far north or south or west they'd gone, nor how much more time they'd be stuffed in the vehicle before reaching the safety of Totresia.
She spent many a night cradled by Helen—or cradling Helen—as they slept restlessly, not sure where they'd end up or if they'd end up anywhere. It often felt like they weren't progressing at all. Every landscape looked the same, every farmhouse had the same structure and the same old couple that welcomed them with the same meal, and let them take naps in the same hay-filled barn.
Sébastien and Jules took turns being pessimistic, glaring at a hand-drawn map that Jules kept folded in his pocket. They couldn't decide which route was safer, though they never said the names of cities out loud; likely not wanting Cordelia to know how far off they were. Whenever the carriage slowed down or halted, one of them hopped out to get news from Razin, who was still leading the way. And they rarely came back with enthusiasm.
They were all tired, but the few peeks Cordelia got of Razin proved he was most tired of them all. Shouting orders, galloping ahead to scour areas for spies, constantly being on alert—she doubted he'd gotten more than a few hours of sleep in the week or so since they'd departed the east coast. His eyes were red, his hair a tangled web of black and tinted with gray, and his back so stiff she wondered if he'd remain stuck like that for the rest of his life. He didn't speak to her or Helen, but offered quick, fatigued smiles, as if to say we will be all right, but it will take some time.
Several times, they'd had to hide their freight deep in the woods, to avoid patrolling Frenchmen. The news had indeed gotten out and spread about the southern towns of France, as expected: Princess Cordelia of Totresia was to be Napoléon's captive, but she escaped, and was to be seized and delivered to him at all costs. No one knew how she'd escaped—on foot, on horseback, or carriage—so the soldiers didn't know what to look for, making it more complicated to evade them.
