Under the vast, cloudless sky, the silver moon shone bright and cold, casting its ethereal glow over the landscape. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. It was a perfect night for running, for disappearing, for a life beyond the gilded cage of the palace. My hand, clammy with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, was clasped tightly in Killian's.
As we made our way through the moonlit gardens, our movements were as silent as the night itself. The pounding of my heart matched the rhythm of my footsteps, a frantic drumbeat reverberating through the stillness. The velvet cloak, borrowed from a palace maid, draped heavily over my shoulders, adding to the weight of our daring escape.
