Irene's voice softened. "If you stay here, I can protect you."
But I refused. If everything she said was true, then I couldn't stay. If my mother found out Irene was helping me, she would be in danger.
"I can protect you if you stay," Irene repeated, her voice firm with quiet determination. "You don't have to do this alone."
I shook my head. "If my mother finds out, she'll come after you too. I won't put you and Enoch in danger."
I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way her lips parted as if to protest, but the silent determination in my gaze left no room for argument. I had already made my choice.
Without another word, she pulled me into a tight embrace, her arms trembling slightly as she held me close. The fabric of her nightgown was soft against my skin.
"I wish things were different," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"If you must really go, then all I can do is give you a guide." Irene's offer to guide me filled me with a gratitude I couldn't express. I nodded as she began to explain her plan for my escape, my focus sharpening with every word. Every detail mattered.
I stole glances at her now and then, showing her I understood, committing each step to memory.
"You have to head northeast from here, there, you'll find a kingdom named Persia. You'll be safe once you blend in with the civilians. Not even your mother's soldiers can enter another kingdom without a permit. It's a three-day journey by foot." She explained.
"Persia," I murmured to myself, the name lingering on my lips. It sounded like a faraway land, but at this point, anywhere beyond the reach of my mother was a safe haven. The thought of embarking on a three-day journey on foot sounded daunting, but Irene's words had filled me with a renewed sense of hope.
With those thoughts swirling in my mind, I turned to face Irene, "Thank you, Irene. You've been so kind and understanding despite not knowing me before. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
Irene gave me a reassuring smile as she said, "I'll teach you the basics of Šërēĺįťh tomorrow after breakfast, so you can at least protect yourself on your journey."
As the night gave way to the quietness of the early morning, Irene suggested that we retire for the night.
"It's pretty late, we should get some sleep, it's a long day tomorrow." She said
"She entered the room and I followed. She had only one bed but luckily for us, it was extremely big, big enough for all of us to share. Enoch was already sleeping comfortably on one edge of the bed. Irene joined him and I followed, and soon we were cozied up, with Irene sleeping behind Enoch and me behind her.
Irene's words echoed in my head as I watched the ceiling.
"If someone had to leave, it should have been him. Most men would have."
I wondered—would I ever find someone who could love me like that? Someone who would fight for me, stay by my side no matter the cost?
Just then, my mother's voice slithered into my thoughts, cold and unrelenting:
"…Honestly, if there were anyone foolish enough to love you, I'd thank them for the favor of taking you off my hands."
A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat, but it never left my lips. My fingers curled into fists as a familiar ache settled in my chest.
I didn't tell Irene everything. Some things were hard to even say out loud—like the argument I had with my mother.
My fists clenched at the memory, but I forced myself to stay composed.
"Then why not just marry me off?" I had asked her, my voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me. "If I meant so little to you, why not use me as a bargaining chip like I always assumed you would?"
Her lips curled into something between disdain and amusement.
"I had planned to. But not for power. I already have all the power I need."
"Then what stopped you?" I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to suppress the fury rising within me. "Why didn't you go through with it?"
Her eyes darkened as she regained her usual cold composure.
"Who would want to marry a harlot?"
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
"Excuse me?"
She rose from her throne, each step deliberate, her gaze piercing into mine.
"Did you think I wouldn't know?"
My stomach twisted.
"Michael has been sneaking into your chambers every night. He is twenty. You are eighteen. Tell me, Majesty, do you expect me to believe that nothing happened between the two of you?"
My hands trembled at the accusation.
"You think—?"
"I know." She cut me off sharply. "You have committed an unchaste act before marriage. A crime punishable by death. If you were anyone else, you would already be executed. But because you are a princess, I am granting you exile."
Her words rang in my ears, but I barely registered them. My vision blurred, not from tears but from sheer disbelief.
"If you are still in Runevale by sunrise tomorrow, I will kill you myself."
She was now standing so close that I could feel her breath against my skin, suffocating me. It was like standing beneath a crushing waterfall, drowning under her sheer presence.
Her voice echoed in my head.
"If you are still in Runevale by sunrise tomorrow, I will kill you myself."
I struggled to breathe as she loomed over me, her presence pressing down like an unrelenting force.
Finally, I found my voice, my frustration boiling over.
"How can you even say such a thing?!" My voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Michael only came to share stories of the world beyond these walls—the world you locked me away from! He spoke of things I have never seen, things I have never heard, because you kept me imprisoned! And now you twist that into something vile?"
I took a step back, shaking my head.
"You truly hate me, don't you?"
For the first time, my mother didn't immediately respond.
And that silence—more than anything—was my answer.
All these thoughts churned in my mind, dragging me into the past, into the pain, until I didn't even realize when sleep finally took me.
The morning sun streamed through the window, filling the room with soft light. The warmth gently nudged me awake, pulling me from sleep. I yawned and stretched, blinking away the last bits of drowsiness.
As my eyes adjusted, I noticed the bed was empty. Irene and Enoch were nowhere in sight. Curious, I swung my legs over the edge and stood up, drawn by the faint sounds coming from outside.
I followed the noise to the kitchen, where the rich scent of freshly chopped vegetables filled the air. My stomach growled in response. Irene stood at the counter, focused on her task. I watched as she skillfully sliced through the colorful vegetables, moving with ease and precision.
She glanced up and smiled warmly. "Good morning, Majesty. How are you?"
"Good morning, Irene," I replied, smiling back. "I'm fine. How about you?"
Before she could answer, a small voice chimed in.
"Good morning, big sis!"
I looked down to see Enoch beaming up at me, his eyes filled with excitement.
"Big sis?" I repeated, surprised. "I don't remember when that happened."
Enoch grinned. "Well, calling you 'Sis Majesty' sounds weird, and just 'Majesty' doesn't feel right either. So I decided on 'big sis.' But if you don't like it, I can stop."
His words made me pause. The title was unexpected, but it felt… nice. A warmth spread through me as I knelt to meet his gaze.
"I love it," I said softly. "No one's ever called me that before, and I think it's perfect."
I hugged him, holding onto the moment. I had always been my mother's only child, never knowing what it felt like to have a sibling. But now, being called 'big sis' felt like something special—like I belonged to a family, even if it wasn't by blood.
I pulled away and turned to Irene. "So, what's for breakfast?"
She chuckled. "Our usual soup porridge. But some mushrooms would make it even better."
I nodded, my mouth watering at the thought. "I haven't had soup porridge in a while."
Irene looked at Enoch. "Enoch, can you get me some wild mushrooms?"
"Yes, Mom!" he answered eagerly, his politeness making me smile.
Before he could move, I stepped in. "Why don't I go? I saw some mushrooms on the way here yesterday."
Irene hesitated, studying me for a moment. She must have understood that I wanted to be useful, to contribute in some way.
"Alright," she said finally. "But don't go too deep into the forest."
"I won't," I assured her. "I'll be quick."
Excitement bubbled in me as I stepped outside. The fresh morning air filled my lungs, and the warmth of the rising sun spread across my skin. For the first time in a while, I felt light.
As I walked along the path, I scanned the ground for mushrooms. It didn't take long to find a small cluster nestled under some trees. I carefully plucked them one by one, their earthy scent filling the air.
With my basket full, I decided to take a moment to look around. That's when I saw it—the large tree from yesterday. Standing beneath its towering branches, memories rushed back. Irene's kindness. Her willingness to help me, a stranger. She had no reason to, yet she did without hesitation.
I owed her my life.
With that thought, I turned back toward the house, feeling a sense of gratitude.
The journey back was easier. The sunlight peeked through the leaves, birds chirped in the distance, and the gentle rustling of the wind created a soothing melody. It was peaceful.
But as I got closer to the house, something changed.
A strange smell lingered in the air, faint but unsettling. My steps slowed. The closer I got, the stronger it became. My stomach twisted with unease. Something wasn't right.
Finally, I reached the entrance. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I placed my hand on the door handle. The wood creaked under my touch.
I pushed the door open.
My heart pounded in my ears.
The room was in shambles. Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor. The windows were shattered.
"This can't be real," I whispered.
But the sight before me told me otherwise.