"Tonight. After dark, when the corridors are quiet."
Ivy groans. "Of course tonight. Why would you give me proper notice?" But despite her complaints, she's already moving toward the door. "I'll get you some supplies. And Sera? Whatever you decide out there... just make sure it's really what you want. Not what fear is telling you to want."
She disappears in a shimmer of fairy light, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the rapidly setting sun.
I wait until it's fully dark, until the palace corridors grow quiet and the servants retire for the night.
Malakai hasn't come to our chambers. I felt him through the bond — distant, troubled, pacing somewhere in the palace. His emotions have been chaotic all day. Guilt. Fear. Longing. The desperate desire to come to me warring with the terror of what might happen if he does.
He's staying away to protect me. I understand that now.
But distance didn't save Julia. And I need to figure out if anything can save me.
Ivy returned an hour ago with a small pack—warm clothes, some coin, dried fruit and bread. She didn't ask questions, just pressed it into my hands with a fierce hug.
"Two days," she'd whispered. "Then I'm coming to find you myself if you're not back."
Now I move through the corridors with an assassin's silence, avoiding the few guards still on patrol. The training from my childhood resurfaces easily—how to move through shadows, how to make myself invisible even in plain sight.
The stables are quiet when I reach them. I find a sturdy mare, not one of the shadow steeds but a regular horse that won't draw attention. As I'm saddling her with fumbling fingers, a soft sound makes me freeze.
A young stable hand—a boy no more than sixteen—peeks out from one of the stalls, hay in his hair like he'd been sleeping.
"My lady?" He looks confused, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Do you need help?"
"I'm just... taking a ride," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I couldn't sleep."
He blinks at me, clearly uncertain, but well-trained enough not to question the Lady of Shadows. "Should I wake someone? An escort? It's not safe to ride alone at night?—"
"No. No escorts." I finish tightening the saddle, my hands shaking slightly. "I just need some air. I won't be long."
The boy hesitates, clearly torn between duty and deference. Finally, he nods. "The eastern gate, my lady. The guards are changing shifts right now—there's a few minutes where no one's posted. If you want to... avoid questions."
I meet his eyes, surprised. He flushes.
"I'm not supposed to know the guard rotations, but..." He shrugs. "Sometimes it's useful."
"Thank you," I say quietly.
He helps me lead the mare out, and I slip through the eastern gate just as he said—in the brief window between one guard leaving and another arriving.
The night air is cold, sharp against my face as I mount and urge the horse forward into the darkness.
Through the bond, I feel Malakai stir—some unconscious awareness that I'm moving, that something is changing. But he doesn't wake, doesn't realize yet what I'm doing.
I'm sorry, I think, hoping some echo reaches him. I love you. But I need to think without drowning in your fear and mine.
The mare breaks into a canter, carrying me away from the palace, away from Malakai, into the darkness of the boundary territories.
Behind me, the bond stretches but doesn't break. I can still feel him—distant but present, a constant hum at the back of my consciousness.
For now, that's enough.
Hours pass in cold darkness. The boundary territories unfold around me—twisted trees with silver bark, frost glittering on everything like scattered diamonds. I'm grateful for the warm cloak Ivy packed, though the cold still seeps through eventually.
The mare is steady beneath me, unbothered by the strange landscape. Unlike the shadow steeds, she doesn't belong to anyone but herself, and there's something comforting in that independence.
Dawn threatens the horizon when I finally see lights ahead—a village, small but welcoming. Smoke rises from chimneys, and I can smell bread baking even from a distance.
