The clang of metal against metal echoed through the empty corridors of the royal court as I ran. It wasn't the sound of a battle that made my heart race—it was the desperate, life-or-death escape I had been planning for weeks. The walls I'd known since my arrival seemed to close in around me, each corner turning into a reminder of what I was running from.
I had to get away. There was no choice. This was the only way to escape the walls of the court, the suffocating politics, and the endless manipulation. I'd spent months plotting this, learning the layout of the palace, picking up on the movements of the guards, and watching the key figures—each of them pretending to be loyal, pretending to care. But I had seen enough.
The life of a servant was nothing but whispers and shadows. They expected me to remain silent, to blend in, to be invisible. But I wasn't invisible—not anymore. I wasn't going to stay here, a ghost in the halls, forever.
Behind me, footsteps thundered, signalling that my time was up. They were coming for me. But I wasn't ready to be caught. Not yet.
I slid behind a pillar, holding my breath. The shadows seemed to stretch forever, concealing me for just long enough. The guards would pass any moment, unaware that I was there. I could hear them muttering as they searched, their voices echoing off the cold stone walls.
I pressed myself harder against the pillar, feeling the rough texture against my back. The air in the corridor was thick, the stench of stale incense and forgotten hours wrapping around me. But none of it mattered. The sound of footsteps grew louder, and I held my breath, praying they wouldn't find me.
My heart beat in my throat as the guard's boots scuffed the stone floor. I wanted to scream, wanted to bolt from my hiding place, but I knew that if I did, they would catch me.
I dared a glance. No one.
The guard's back was turned, just for a moment, enough for me to slip out of the shadows. My legs trembled from the strain, but I moved quickly, silently. The exit was just ahead, a mere few paces away. It was all I needed.
I could almost taste freedom.
As I neared the door, ready to slip out into the dark garden, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"You think you can escape that easily?"
I froze.
Dorian Blackwood.
I had known him from the court—seen him in passing, heard the whispers about him. A minor king from a neighbouring kingdom, his family was powerful enough to maintain a small but wealthy territory. Still, he was a quiet figure in the palace—distant, detached, a ruler with no real power here. But now, standing in front of me, blocking the only exit, he looked every bit the king. Tall, composed, eyes sharp with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.
I quickly pulled myself back into the shadows, heart hammering. "I don't want any trouble," I whispered, almost pleading. "I just need to go. Please."
But he didn't move. His gaze was steady, piercing, as though he could see right through me. "Running away?" His voice was low, with a dangerous edge, but there was something almost amused in his tone. "I would have thought better of you, given your position here."
"I can't stay," I muttered, barely meeting his gaze. "You don't understand—there's nothing for me here. Only lies and betrayal."
Dorian's expression softened slightly, but there was still a steeliness in his eyes that unnerved me. "You think running will solve your problems?" His words were slow, deliberate. "I can promise you, it won't."
I swallowed hard. There was a part of me that knew he was right. The walls of the court would follow me wherever I went. I had nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. Still, I had to try.
"Why are you stopping me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He crossed his arms, looking down at me as if contemplating whether to answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with a certain resolve. "Because you don't belong here, in this place, running from whatever it is you think you're escaping. But you're also not as alone as you believe." He paused, eyes flicking to the door. "I can help you."
My heart skipped a beat. "Help me?" I almost laughed. "Why would you help someone like me?"
He took a step forward, and despite myself, I took a step back. "You think you're the only one trapped here?" His voice was a low rumble, drawing me in. "This palace, these games of power, it isn't just about you. Everyone here plays their part—even me." His gaze hardened, the lines of his face sharpening with determination. "I didn't come here to be a pawn. And neither should you."
There was a moment of silence, the air thick with unspoken truths. His words hit me like a stone sinking into the water—ripples that were impossible to ignore. The tension between us seemed to stretch indefinitely, both of us standing there, frozen in time. I could feel his presence—his strength—radiating in the silence, a contrast to the fear and uncertainty boiling inside me.
"Then why should I trust you?" I asked the words leaving my lips before I could stop them. "What is it you want from me?"
Dorian didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, unwavering. "You don't have to trust me," he said. "But I'm offering you a way out. I can show you the path."
I stood there, torn between what my heart wanted and what my mind screamed was impossible. Could I trust him? Could I really risk everything on a man whose motives I couldn't even begin to understand?
Then, just as I was about to speak, a sound from down the hall—footsteps, rapidly approaching—froze me in place. Dorian's expression didn't change, but I could feel the air between us shift. Something was coming. Something dangerous.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the doorway, eyes wide with panic. "Your Majesty," the guard said urgently. "They're looking for her."
Dorian turned, his jaw tightening. Without another word, he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the nearest hallway.
"This way," he hissed.