The air in the dining hall was thick — not with perfume or roasted spices, but with tension.
The noble, seated near the center, leaned forward. His eyes gleamed with something sharp, something rehearsed. He stood slowly, his voice slicing through the murmurs.
"They're in the kitchen," he said. "The prince and his… assistant."
Gasps rippled across the table.
All eyes turned as Colden and Marco stepped into view.
Colden's expression was calm, but his presence was thunderous. Marco stood beside him, composed but alert, his hands still dusted with flour.
Viremont's hand dropped to the table with a thud.
"Guards," she snapped, "go to Lady Elaine's room. Now."
Upstairs, Elaine stood by her window, heart pounding. She watched as Carmine scaled the outer wall with the ease of a shadow. Her braid whipped in the wind, her boots silent on the stone.
This was the plan.
But Elaine hesitated.
"I don't deserve this," she whispered. "I've been horrible. To everyone."
Carmine reached the ledge and looked up at her. "Everyone deserves a second chance. Even you."
Elaine's eyes welled. "Why do you care?"
"Because I see who you could be," Carmine said. "Not who you were."
Something shifted in Elaine's chest — a warmth she hadn't felt in years. She nodded.
"I'm ready."
The door burst open.
Two guards stepped in.
But in a blink, Carmine moved — grabbing Elaine's wrist and pulling her through the window. Elaine gasped as they descended the building's side, vines coiling around them like a living ladder.
She was amazed.
Not just by the escape — but by herself.
Back in the hall, the nobles whispered furiously.
The prince was here.
Colden stepped forward.
"I arrived just now," he said, voice steady. "Because Viremont locked her own daughter in her room. And tried to kill members of this family."
Silence.
Then shock.
Eyes turned to Viremont.
She stood slowly, her face unreadable.
The room held its breath.
To be continued…