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He walked for what felt like hours, the pain lessening as numbness set in, the storm deafening, the exhaustion suffocating and so heavy it made each laboured step more torturous than the last.
The doubts grew back stronger. What if he’d set off in the wrong direction? Who the hell knew where they were at this point? The advice was always to stay with your vehicle.
‘You are nothing but a spoilt child. To be a prince you need to be a man.’
His father’s voice, so clear, so cutting, so disgusted with him, echoed again.
‘Go away, you bastard. Leave me alone.’ He lifted his head to shout into the wind…and spotted a shape through the trees. A solid shape.
Adrenaline surged, obliterating the old nightmares. A house? A chalet? Maybe. No lights. But shelter… Surely.
He grabbed Melody, but when she stumbled again he bent and slung her over his shoulder, the last of his strength pushing him through the pain, the numbness, the fear and the fury as he headed towards the structure which rose up through the trees.
He reached a two-storey building. Its ornate wooden balconies faced the valley below, which was obliterated by the raging storm. He climbed the steps to the porch to escape the icy wind at last.
‘Put me down, Rene. I can walk.’ Melody’s cry had him lowering her to her feet.
Still, he gathered her close, scared to let her go. She softened against him, her body so small, so fragile, so weary.
He thumped the heavy wooden door. Pain ricocheted up his arm.
No answer. The closed shutters made it clear the place was empty. But it looked sturdy, well-kept, not derelict, simply deserted.
He tugged Melody up by her lapels to whisper in her ear. ‘Wait here,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘Don’t go to sleep. We have to get warm.’
But first he had to find a way inside.
Leaving her propped against the door, he stumbled the length of the porch, wrenched at the shutters. No luck. Then he spotted a door at the far end. Unlike the main entrance, there were panes of glass—and no shutters. Ripping off his hat, he wrapped it around his fist and punched the glass. It broke with a muffled crash. He shoved his hand through, the slice of pain dimmed by the burst of triumph.
Finding the bolt inside with clumsy fingers, he yanked it back. Then he shoved the door hard with his shoulder. But it only bent, still attached at the bottom of the frame.
He swore viciously, triumph giving way to panic. They couldn’t stay out here any longer without freezing to death. He had to get the door open.
He stepped back and kicked it hard enough to crack the frame.
The door buckled and bent inward.
Racing back to Melody, he scooped her into his arms, carried her back along the porch then wedged them both through the broken door into the house. The scent of lavender polish and fresh, clean linen assailed his senses.
And then warmth enveloped him.
Euphoria surged. He found a series of switches. Flipped them. Nothing. But then an eerie glow illuminated what looked like a utility room.
Emergency lights, he realised as he heard the distant hum of a generator.
Staggering out of the small room, his numb fingers gripping Melody’s, he slammed the connecting door shut behind them to contain the cold from outside.
The glow brightened, casting a blue light over the vast room they had entered—all dark wood and high beams and stone, with a mezzanine level above.
A luxury ski chalet…
Thank the Lord.
‘It’s beautiful… And it’s heated. Hallelujah,’ Melody murmured, her voice dull with fatigue but sharp enough to pierce through the mist fogging his brain.
His arm began to throb. He staggered, his balance shot, as he stared at the stone wall opposite, a huge unlit fireplace piled high with logs. The expensive furniture—sofas, coffee table, a white fur rug—levitated and began to dance.
Exhaustion wrapped around him like a blanket, taking away the pain. The fear.