Night settled quietly over the palace. The corridors that bustled with servants during the day now lay almost empty, lit only by rows of flickering wall torches. Every so often, the sound of armored boots echoed through the halls as the night guards completed another round. Their voices drifted through the silence.
"They say the princess will be questioned again tomorrow."
"What else can the council do? The crown prince lies unconscious, and no one knows who poisoned him."
"They'll find someone to blame."
Lysandra stared at the candle burning on her desk.
Three weeks.
That was all the time the council had given her before they locked her away. Three weeks to uncover the truth before history repeated itself.
Not this time.
She slowly closed the report she had been pretending to read.
"If I stay inside these walls," she whispered, "I'll never find the truth."
She rose and walked toward the wardrobe hidden behind embroidered curtains. Gowns of fine silk hung neatly in rows, each one carefully arranged as befitted a royal princess.
She pushed aside the expensive dresses until her fingers reached the back of the wardrobe.
There, wrapped in an old linen cloth to keep the dust away, were clothes she hadn't touched in years.
A faded gray dress.
A dark brown cloak.
A pair of leather boots with worn soles.
Looking at them made her laugh quietly.
She had been fourteen when she'd secretly commissioned them from an elderly seamstress in the city. Back then, she'd dreamed of sneaking out to watch festivals and taste food sold by the street vendors. When she told Kyler about her plan, he had laughed so hard he nearly dropped the wooden sword he was practicing with.
"Then wait for me," he had said between laughs. "If you're going to get caught, I want to be there to watch."
That day had never come.
The smile on her face slowly disappeared.
She changed quickly.
The royal gown was folded neatly onto the bed, replaced by the simple gray dress. She slipped on the old boots, fastened the dark cloak around her shoulders, and braided her silver hair before hiding it beneath the hood.
When she stood before the mirror, she stared at her reflection for a long moment.
Without the jewels, the expensive fabrics, and the carefully arranged hair, she looked like any other young woman walking through the city.
Somehow, that made her smile again.
Not because she looked beautiful.
But because, for the first time in her life, she didn't look like a princess.
She reached beneath her mattress and retrieved a folded map of the palace she had drawn years ago out of boredom. It marked every servant corridor, abandoned room, hidden staircase, and forgotten passage she had discovered while wandering the palace as a child.
She studied it one last time.
Tonight wasn't about finding the poisoner.
Tonight was simply to see if she could leave the palace unnoticed.
If she couldn't even do that...
Then she had no hope of uncovering the truth.
Taking a deep breath, she folded the map and tucked it safely beneath her cloak before quietly leaving her chambers.
The palace seemed even larger after midnight.
Most of the servants had gone to sleep. Only the guards remained awake, patrolling the corridors with practiced discipline.
Lysandra slipped into one of the narrow servant passages, keeping one hand against the cold stone wall as she walked.
Her heartbeat echoed louder than her footsteps.
For one terrifying moment, she almost turned back.
If someone caught her now, everything would be over before it had even begun.
She closed her eyes briefly, took a slow breath, and continued forward.
She reached a corner and immediately ducked back.
Two guards stood just ahead.
"...Commander Serena has doubled the night patrol," one of them said.
"Can't blame her," the other replied. "With the prince poisoned and the princess under suspicion, everyone's nervous."
Lysandra frowned.
Already?
Serena was moving faster than she had expected.
She waited patiently.
One guard yawned while the other continued talking. A few moments later, they walked away.
Now.
Lysandra hurried across the intersection before disappearing down a forgotten staircase.
With every corridor she crossed without being seen, the knot in her chest loosened a little.
By the time she reached the old staircase leading to the gardens, she realized her hands had stopped shaking.
Maybe...
Maybe I really can do this.
Moonlight painted the palace gardens in silver.
Ahead stood the old stone wall separating the palace from the city.
She had climbed it once as a child before being caught by Kyler.
He had laughed so hard that day he nearly fell off the wall himself.
The memory made her chest ache.
"Wait for me," she whispered softly.
She placed both hands against the rough stone and began climbing.
The wall was higher than she remembered.
The stone scraped against her palms, leaving them red, but she ignored the sting and kept climbing.
Finally, she reached the top.
For a brief moment, she looked back.
The palace stood proudly beneath the moonlight, its towers glowing under the watch of countless torches.
It had always been her home.
Tonight...
It felt more like a cage.
Lysandra took one last breath.
Then she jumped.