Halfway between somewhere and nowhere, his only choice was to continue north, for the town behind them was farther than the one in front. He swore under his breath as a pothole steered the car toward an embankment, and gripping the wheel, he straightened the tires and drove on. She screamed again. He was scared.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath. Up ahead he could see lights. Faint images amidst the deluge, the tiny shimmering glare of incandescence signaling that safe harbor was within reach. He placed his hand on her knee to offer comfort and silent assurance that everything would be all right, but she didn’t say a word. He dared not look away from the road, but he paled at the dampness he felt under his palm. Sticky and warm, he knew what it was and when he clutched the wheel again, his hand was dark with her blood.

Earlier that morning they had driven through the little town. She had called it quaint, but not their style, and he had laughed because it was true. He was born into a family where chauffeurs were the norm, and when she had become his, she had slipped into the role of an untitled princess without blinking an eye. He didn’t mind. He loved her, and they both preferred silver spoons over plastic cutlery. There was something to be said for never having to do without…and normally, they didn’t.

The day had started like most weekend mornings, enjoying their tea and scones in their upscale condo in the middle of London, but then she announced she was bored and wanted to get away. When he called for the chauffeur, she balked and suggested they go on their own, and while he usually preferred not to drive, he couldn’t say no. He could never say no to her. He loved her too much for that. She was his life.

So they meandered that day. Heading south down back country roads, while he kept his eyes focused on his driving, feeling slightly awkward behind the wheel of a car, she amused him by acting as his tour guide. As they drove past billboards spouting sustenance ahead, she joked about the faded colors of the placards and the fact that she didn’t find yellow and green food that appealing. She pointed out little pubs with crooked signs and petrol stations missing numbers in their pricing. Misspelled signage on store windows had brought tears of laughter to her eyes, and the fact that a tiny village barely a few miles long would feel the need to have a walk-in clinic had caused her to raise her eyebrows in surprise. It seemed so stupid at the time. Now it didn’t.