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We discussed the details into the early hours of the morning. Conreth, Thorn, and Romydan were on their way, traveling with as many high-powered fae as they could gather. Vicer had also reached out to his contacts, ensuring that any hybrids who wished to fight would travel to our meeting spot.
Finally, there were only small details left to discuss—all of which would be figured out tomorrow. Lorian led me to our cabin, pulled me onto our bed, and curled his body around mine.
I was shaking, I realized. My chest ached, my throat burned, and I felt as if I could climb out of my skin.
“Are you ready to let go, Prisca?”
Lip trembling, I nodded. And then I told him everything. I told him what Eadric had done to me—the details I’d never spoken of. I repeated every word Eadric had said, which sometimes played in my mind on a loop. I explained how Cavis had looked at me, and how often I saw that expression when I closed my own eyes. I told him what happened during my nightmares, and how all of the people I loved replaced Cavis each night, and I could save none of them.
I cried and I raged and I howled. And through it all, Lorian held me, his own eyes wet, his body shuddering with barely suppressed fury.
* * *
My horse danced restlessly beneath me, and I shivered, terror curdling in my gut.
I had listened to Pelysian’s warnings.
I had even forced myself to picture my ending if I were discovered. I’d lived my own death so many times, I’d woken over and over these past nights, certain Sabium’s guards were about to burst into my rooms and arrest me.
And yet…
Sabium had left. Even my spies hadn’t been able to learn where he was going or what he was doing. Pelysian had been entirely useless when it came to obtaining Sabium’s plans too. The bastard had stayed away, refusing to engage with me until I agreed to leave.
Sabium’s spies continued to watch my every move. I could feel their intent, suspicious gazes on me constantly. While Tymedes had traveled with his king, there was no shortage of others to report my actions back to him.
And yet…
Nelia hadn’t refused to help me. No, Nelia had understood why I must do this. She was a woman as trapped in the castle as I was—her husband drinking his days away and fucking Sabium’s maids until even the lowliest servant sniggered as she walked past. Together, we’d considered my options.
As much as I wanted Sabium to know I had been the one to outmaneuver him, it was not the only reason I was considering such a dangerous move. If I could find the third amulet, could see exactly what monsters Sabium was breeding within Lyrishade, I would have a way to bargain with the fae and the hybrids.
Pelysian had assured me he would keep me safe if I fled the castle. He may be related to Daharak Rostamir, may benefit from his mother’s link to the fates, but he was just a man—little more than a servant, despite his network of spies.
So, together with Nelia, we’d arranged for a visit to the market—one I often took with my ladies. They’d seemed relieved at the return to normalcy, although all of them had remained quiet while we’d traveled by carriage, the guards behind us.
The acrid scent of smoke had been the first sign that Nelia’s distraction had begun. It had quickly replaced the scent of meat skewers and honeyed almonds.
Commoners had begun to scream, scrambling for safety. My guards had reacted instantly, closing tightly around me. As I’d known they would.
“What are you waiting for?” I’d hissed. “Put the fire out.”
“Your Majesty?”
“How do you think my reputation would fare if word spread that I had ignored such a calamity when my guards have more than enough power at their disposal? I will wait here. Go.”
Three guards had left. Two of them had remained. When someone had released the animals from their pens, the market had turned to chaos. It had been a simple matter to drop beneath the closest stall, sweep up the ragged cloak left for me, and slip away, my gown and hair covered with gray homespun.
A woman had slammed into me, her face wet with blood. I’d known there would be injuries. Perhaps even deaths. But sacrifices needed to be made.
It had been easier than I’d imagined to board our waiting ship. Nelia’s documentation was so meticulously forged, it was impeccable. So impeccable, I’d wondered if she had been planning to flee Eprotha for some time.
I’d held my breath while our papers were checked. Nelia had provided me with the kinds of clothes a commoner might wear—the fabric rough and thin, cold at night and too hot during the day. She’d also tied my hair back in a messy braid—the type several of the fishermen’s wives had been wearing. The guard had barely scanned us, the harbor master busy managing several of Sabium’s ships, which were departing minutes before us.
“Your Majesty?”
Nelia’s voice shook me from my thoughts, and I gazed at her. We’d docked past Mistrun. Not far from the village Sabium had ordered razed. Nelia had ensured our horses were waiting, but it had still taken two days for us to reach the granite mine.
She rode terribly, bouncing around in the saddle until I’d winced for her poor horse. “You’ve done well, Nelia. You must go now.”
