My satin slippers were a poor match for the cold, damp stone, slipping with each step and making the climb precarious, especially when it felt more strenuous than usual due to my strangely weakened limbs; I would have kicked my slippers off if not for the evidence they would have left behind.
The wind was stronger this high up, but I moved quickly, every motion honed by years of practice. Within seconds, I reached the edge of the slated roof and pulled myself up, pressing my body low against the slope. After checking that there weren’t any guards waiting to capture me, I pressed myself low against the cold slates and lay still, hidden in the shadow of one of the turrets.
I strained my ears, listening keenly to the sounds from the room I’d just evaded. I could just barely detect the soft scrape of a key in the lock, followed by the door opening…and stillness—not an empty sound, but the startled silence of realization that echoed louder than shouting. I could picture the guards’ wide eyes upon discovering the empty room, the way they would search for their escaped prisoner and rush to the window.
A smile tugged at my lips. Let them hunt; I was already gone.
Inside the chamber below, I could sense the guards standing in stunned silence, the calm before a storm of chaos broke. I followed each of their frantic movements—a hurried sweep of boots over the rug, the creak of the bedframe as someone checked beneath it, the clatter of curtain rings as the drapes were flung aside.
“She’s not here,” a guard muttered, voice thick with disbelief.
“That’s impossible,” said another. “We were stationed here all night. No one passed us, or even opened the door.” There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice low. “The window is open. You don’t think she…went out the window?”
“She’s not a cat,” the first guard snapped. “Not to mention we’re on the fourth floor.” Yet his footfalls approached. The hinges groaned as he opened it wider. I could picture them peering out, expecting to see nothing but open air.
“There's no ledge, with nowhere to stand.”
“Then where did the princess go?”
I nearly snorted.Princess?Quite the stark promotion fromprisoner. The reason for such a title would remain an unsolved mystery, for I was determined my unexpected sojourn at the palace would finally end.
Their voices faded into muffled confusion as they hurried back inside to search again, this time more frantically—pulling open drawers, inspecting the fireplace, as if I might have folded myself into a teacup or turned into a shadow.
Their disbelief was almost flattering. I allowed myself a smug smile. It had been far too long since I’d had the chance to disappear properly, but evasion never ceased to be one of the most satisfying moments for any thief.
I waited until they eventually took their desperate search elsewhere. I counted to three hundred, allowing five minutes to pass before I deemed it safe enough to stir.
Crouching low, I began to scale along the roofline, careful not to disturb any dislodged tiles. The slope was steep in places, and the wind tugged insistently at my skirts, but my movements remained fluid and sure. I’d scaled worse in more bitter weather, and while high, this roof wasn’t particularly treacherous for someone with the right training…someone like me.
I shifted to the far side, where the tiles gave way to a lower slope. There—half-hidden by overgrown ivy and the shadow of a dormer turret—was a narrow stone ledge leading to a forgotten servant’s access: a rusted metal grate that vented warm air from the kitchens below. I remembered noting it during my initial scouting, tucked where no noble would ever bother to look.
Most wouldn’t dare attempt the descent, but I wasn’t most. The height would do nothing to hinder me from making my way to the ground, and from there, sweet freedom.
As I crested the highest point of the roof, I paused, letting my breath settle as I surveyed the palace grounds from this new vantage point.
I rarely had the luxury to admire the places I infiltrated, taking in only what was necessary during a heist—escape routes, guard patterns, hidden doors, and potential traps—details that kept me alive. But with the sun pressing its rim over the horizon and no one at my heels, I allowed myself to look.
From this height I could see part of the courtyard, the spires of the palace stretching into a sky painted with sunrise hues. Beyond the maze of rooftops and parapets, the kingdom sprawled outward in a sea of spiraling towers, winding streets, gardens tucked between courtyards, and the faint shimmer of the river far in the distance.
Dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a rosy golden hue across the rolling hills. The palace grounds unfurled beneath me, the lawns and hedgerows touched by early morning mist that softened every edge and curve like a painter’s hand had blurred the lines of the world. Yet my stomach twisted strangely as I gazed. For all their breathtaking beauty, the details were wrong.
My heart stuttered as realization struck. The landscape had changed. Subtly, yet impossibly so. The forest I remembered bordering the rear wall was gone, replaced by sloping fields scattered with wildflowers and young green trees budding into spring. Yesterday autumn had caressed the world with its gold-drenched leaves and ruby hues, but now the trees were dotted with green and pink buds just beginning to open.
The garden below me was larger than I remembered, manicured paths spiraling in new directions, flanked byrosebushes heavy with dew. Trellises bloomed with ivy and moonflowers, still open despite the rising sun, pale petals turned lazily towards the light, as if confused by the hour.
Above stretched a sky that didn’t belong to either night or day, the colors a surreal blend of watercolor hues—soft pinks melting into lavender and grey, with streaks of dusky blue that belonged to twilight rather than the dawn. It was unsettling in its beauty, the golden light luminous, almost otherworldly.
My heart beat faster. This wasn’t the palace I had infiltrated. The architecture was similar, but some part of me instinctively knew that I had never set foot here before. The color shimmered brighter and more vividly than I remembered, like a memory painted over with a dream, leaving me to wonder if I was truly awake.
A sharp pinch dispelled the possibility I was still asleep. Yet if I wasn’t in a dream, where in the world was I instead? The height, the wind, and my status of escaped prisoner hadn’t been enough to terrify me, but realizing I had no idea where I was or how I’d gotten here was more than enough to throw off my composure. My breaths began to come quick and sharp, my vision blurring as I frantically scanned the unfamiliar surroundings.
And then I suddenly saw him—a lone, familiar figure, standing at the edge of the distant rose garden, barely more than a silhouette in the morning mist. Even though I’d met him only once before, I recognized him immediately.
The man from the dream.
He stood still, head slightly tilted as he watched me, as though waiting for me. I barely had time to register his presence when he moved out of my line of sight, disappearing behind the hedges. But I was certain he had been there.
I didn’t hesitate, moving expertly along the rooftop in his direction as my head cleared, panic replaced by purpose. Evenwith the promise of freedom just within reach, his inexplicable presence was one riddle I refused to leave unsolved.
