Nightfall cloaked the palace in a quiet, uneasy stillness. Guards marched with torches, whispering about the prince's condition, about the council's suspicions, about the princess who suddenly carried the shadow of guilt.
Lysandra sat at her desk, staring at the single candle flickering in front of her.
Three weeks, she repeated silently.
Three weeks before confinement.
Three weeks before she would lose control of everything—again.
Three weeks to uncover the truth and save her brother.
Her fingers tightened around the quill she held.
"No more cages," she whispered. "Not this time."
She stood, opened her wardrobe, and pushed aside the layers of silk gowns and ceremonial dresses. Behind them—hidden since she was fourteen—hung a simple cloak and a gray wool dress. Clothes for a princess who dreamed of freedom.
Clothes for a girl no one would recognize.
She dressed quickly, binding her hair, wiping away any trace of royalty from her face. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she froze.
She looked… ordinary.
And for the first time in her life, that felt like power.
She blew out the candle.
Darkness swallowed the room.
---
She knew the palace better than anyone. Every servant passage, every forgotten hallway, every crack in the security that the council never bothered to fix.
She slipped through the service corridors, her steps soundless.
A pair of guards joked idly nearby.
"…they say the princess might be questioned again tomorrow."
"Of course. Poisoned prince, missing evidence… who else is there to blame?"
Lysandra's heart tightened, but she inhaled slowly.
This was exactly why she had to leave.
She waited until they moved, then darted down the marble stairway and through the old archway that led to the back gardens. From there, a low wall separated the palace grounds from the outer city.
She climbed it easily, landing softly on the other side.
And just like that…
The Princess of Aurelin vanished.
---
The city at night was alive in a way the palace never was. Warm lanterns glowed over the marketplaces, laughter drifted through the streets, and the smell of spiced bread and roasted meat filled the air.
Lysandra stopped walking.
She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until now.
"So this is… outside," she murmured.
Children ran past her, carefree. Merchants argued over prices. Musicians played cheerful tunes in the corner of the square.
No bows.
No titles.
No fear in people's eyes.
Just… life.
For the first time since she returned to the past, Lysandra felt something bloom in her chest.
Freedom.
She moved through the crowd, blending effortlessly. No one spared her a second glance. No one whispered about her beauty. No councilor followed her with sharp eyes.
She was just another face.
And she liked it.
---
By midnight, she found a small inn run by an older woman with kind eyes and a sharper tongue.
"Looking for a room, dear?" the woman asked.
Lysandra nodded. "Just for a while. I can pay."
She pulled out the small pouch of coins she had secretly saved over the years.
The woman studied her.
"You're awfully well-spoken for a traveler."
Lysandra almost panicked.
But she forced a shy smile. "My father insisted on teaching me."
"Hmph. Rare these days. Well then, room upstairs, last door to the right."
The mattress was thin, the room small and plain…
but Lysandra sat on the bed and exhaled deeply.
No royal duties.
No eyes watching her.
No palace walls.
Just silence.
Just herself.
Just freedom.
---
She looked out the small window at the moonlit city.
Three weeks.
Three weeks to investigate quietly, unnoticed.
Three weeks to find the real culprit.
Three weeks to protect Kyler and destroy the fate that killed him before.
"I'll save you," she whispered. "Even if I have to tear this kingdom apart."
Her eyes softened as she gazed at the streets below.
"And maybe… I'll finally learn what it means to live."
The wind drifted through the window, lifting her hair gently.
She closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, her new life would begin.
And somewhere in the palace…
Serena would wake to find Lysandra gone.