My chest burned with frustration, then I tossed the pillow aside and slid out of bed. The night’s chill sank into my skin. My slippers waited nearby, their soft lining a welcome warmth against the cold floor. I slipped them on, wincing at every creak of the wooden boards.
Was it still night, or had morning crept closer? I couldn’t tell.
A glance at Edith, undisturbed, solidified my resolve. I didn’t want to wake her. If she caught me, she’d insist on a tonic as dreadful as that bitter bean tea Kallias gave me earlier. I shuddered at the thought.
After I found my thin blue cape draped over my chair, I fastened it over my nightdress. The fabric whispered as it settled over my shoulders, offering little protection against the icy air. But it would have to do.
The palace was a labyrinth I didn’t know well enough to navigate without risk of encountering servants, but the nobles would be asleep by now. Most of the staff working at this hour would stick to tasks out of sight. If I was careful, I could avoid anyone while I wandered.
I spared only a fleeting glance at the hidden passage behind the dresser before turning to the narrow door in my dressing room. It was the servants’ current route, and as the hinges swung open without a creak, I had to admit it was a convenient improvement.
A single lantern sputtered in its bracket, casting uneven light that flickered over the narrow walls. I hesitated at the threshold, biting my lip. Scythe would have loved this—she’d have taken the hidden passageways simply for adventure’s sake. I only needed to stretch my legs and quiet my mind.
After a steadying breath, I stepped into the cramped corridor and eased the door shut behind me. The soft click didn’t carry, and Edith did not stir. With a smile, I moved, the thin soles of my slippers making no sound on the smooth floor.
The walls pressed close, brushing my shoulders, and the ceiling hung low enough to make me stoop. The confined space clawed at my nerves, but I reminded myself that the servants walked these halls every day without complaint. If they could manage, so could I.
At first, my steps were tentative, passing intersections shrouded in shadows. I needed to slip past the guards stationed near my chambers before venturing into the main corridors, where the space felt less suffocating. My breath hitched as a faint sound reached me—a soft scrape, or perhaps just my imagination. I froze, tilting my head to listen, then continued when silence enveloped me again.
The farther I moved, the more the confinement gnawed at me. These corridors were clean. No scurrying mice or even a stray cobweb broke the stillness. When I judged I was far enough from my rooms—and those perpetually alert guards—I angled toward the main hall.
When I reached a small door, I pressed my palm to its worn wood and inched it open. Light spilled through the gap, stark and blinding after my time in the dim passage. The mirrored lanterns cast harsh reflections, illuminating every detail. I squinted as I peeked out, my gaze roaming over the ornate decor—polished floors, trailing plants, and paintings that lined the walls.
My attention caught on a vivid depiction of a woman sipping tea in a lush garden. The deep greens of the foliage and the striking red of the flowers felt familiar and I tried to place them. I clutched my cloak tighter and slipped out, easing the door shut.
My heart thudded against my ribs, its frantic rhythm spurred by the thrill of solitude. No guards shadowed my steps, no Greaves watching over me and Kallias. It was just me, alone in the quiet halls. I bit down on a smile, willing my breath to even out. Every sound mattered now—I needed to listen for footsteps, to hide if necessary.
Heat crept into my cheeks as I ignored the state of my attire. Scythe, of course, would’ve helped me dress without a word. Edith would have woken with a start, summoned an entire escort, and glared at me all the way to the garden.
My fingertips brushed the vines snaking up the walls, their paths guided by artful hooks. One plant held my gaze—a sprawling specimen with variegated leaves striped in green, white, and faint pink. The delicate patterns reminded me of Veridis’ temple. I snorted at the absurdity of it—pink leaves.
The palace glowed with serene warmth, its rich hues and vibrant greenery exuding life. A gilded frame caught my attention, cradling a painting of a fair-haired boy darting through a sunlit forest. A stag lingered in the background, its gaze protective, while a rabbit peeked from behind a tree. I leaned closer, letting out a breathless laugh at the rabbit’s scrunched nose. The artist even captured its amusement as perfectly as the boy’s joy.
Something thudded, and the spell of peace shattered. I spun, heart jolting, as a hushed voice followed the noise.
Sea beneath! I snatched a fistful of my nightdress and sprinted down the corridor. My feet barely touched the polished floor as I wove through the halls, each turn a desperate attempt to lose whoever—or whatever—was behind me. My lungs burned, ears straining for any hint of pursuit.
I rounded another corner—and collided with a solid form.
A startled yelp escaped me as I grabbed for the man’s tunic to steady myself. He staggered but righted us, his hands firm on my elbows. The faint scent of warm spices filled the air, reaching me before I dared glance up. My face ignited with embarrassment, a blush burning hot under my skin.
“Should I call for the guards?” Kallias asked, the question a deep rumble. His gaze pinned me as I struggled to find words. “Or are you running from them again?”
A nervous laugh tumbled out as I winced. “I think it was a servant this time.”
His hair was disheveled and his tunic—deep green and half-laced—revealed the shallow curve of his chest.
Before I could dwell on his state of dress too long, a soft curse sounded from down the hall. Kallias turned, his hand sliding to the smallof my back.
His eyes locked with mine, alight with a mischievous glint. “Care for a walk?”
“Why else would I be out here?” I countered, my own smile teasing.
Without another word, he guided me forward. The heat of his palm burned through my cape, a phantom warmth that spread to my skin. My heart thundered—not just from the adventure, but from the sensation his simple touch aroused.
The palace’s labyrinthine corridors posed no challenge to him. Kallias moved with purpose, his confidence in every step evident as he led me deeper. Each turn came with a light press of his fingers against my arm, an effortless command I couldn’t ignore. A quiet laugh slipped from me as his pace quickened, the thrill infectious.
“Who are you running from?” I whispered, tilting my head to steal a glance at him.
