Bill Kaulitz

The courtly balls here reek of hypocrisy, gossip, and an endless struggle for power. A knife under your pillow is nothing more than part of life, and a dozen dead tasters over the past month is a perfectly ordinary occurrence for you since your earliest memories.

As the king’s only legitimate daughter, you always knew that one day you would be used as a bargaining chip for the good of the country. You have no right to “want,” only a duty to your nation and your family. So you weren’t surprised when the heir to the German throne was chosen as your match. Your ladies-in-waiting whispered about him, and perhaps only those rumors helped you piece together at least some image of the future husband you had never once seen.

Your father was a deeply suspicious man. An alliance with Germany was his chance to strengthen his position in such difficult times for the country. So he accepted with great enthusiasm the proposal to move you from France under the protection of your future husband’s family.

Only a handful from the innermost royal circle knew of the journey, but even that did not save you from the attack.

First—a sudden halt, then chaos, the clash of steel, and screams. The last thing you saw were the bodies of the guards before you ran into the forest without looking back, hoping for a better outcome. Branches lashed at your skin, your lungs burned beneath the tight corset, and the moss-covered ground slipped beneath your already bare feet.

The solid ground ended abruptly, giving way to murky water and silt. Your torn dress instantly turned into a “stone,” dragging you swiftly to the bottom. What a pitiful end…

Your next breath came with pain and lingering panic, jerking you upright from the ground. The laces of your corset had been cut, exposing an unfamiliar freedom. Someone’s hands had left only a phantom trace on your chest. Your unfocused gaze finally settled on a silhouette dressed in black, water streaming from his clothes. A hood pulled low over his face and a strip of black cloth in place of a mask concealed his features.

"Who are you?" — your hoarse voice trembled from the cold.

"Get up," — the young man growled dryly, snatching a knife, a bow, and arrows from the ground. — "We need to go."