She was walking along the corridor again.
The familiar dark passage—her legs moving eithout command, like they always did.
The walls on either side of the passage were cracked and broken, and the emerald torches now buried beneath layers of centuries-old dirt. The old Gregorian windows lay shattered, admitting thin shafts of cold moonlight that cast eerie shadows across the floor.
She never looked at any of it. She never looked anywhere but ahead- her gaze gixatwd on the far end of the corridor.
The door was now clearly visible—a massive, alluring structure broken in many places, cobwebs clinging to its upper corners.
She reached towards it, like always.
The door opened with the familiar loud creak.
She found herself inside the courtroom of what had once been so magnificent and beautiful, now reduced to ruins. The pillars were split with deep cracks, and mice scurried fearlessly along the fallen chandelier.
And there it was.
The throne.
It loomed before her, turned away as always. A figure sat upon it, shrouded in darkness, its face hidden behind a curtain of black hair.
She tried to step forward, as always. She tried to call out to the woman.
But her voice remained frozen in her throat.
And her legs would not move, as if bound by invisible chains.
And then, as always, everything dissolved into blinding white light.
She blinked.
Sunlight stabbed into her eyes through a hole in the tent's fabric. Her head throbbed with the remains of the familiar dream.
She lazily pulled one of the loose hanging folds over it, plunging the tent back into darkness.
Her eyes darted toward the other bed—a messy pile of boxes and torn clothes.
Untouched. As always.
"It's been three months. When is she going to come back?"
"SHAYNA!" a lady's voice called from outside
.
She shot upright, her first instinct to shove the bread under the covers. She hadn't eaten anything yesterday and couldn't afford to share her food.
"Shayna, what—" The woman who had been calling her name entered the tent. Tall and thin, with uneven brown hair and gentle doe eyes. "You're still sleeping?!"
"I was out all night yesterday."
"And ? Did you find anything good?"
"No. The security is too tight around her," Shayna sighed. "They don't even let her breathe alone in the garden."
"You really shouldn't lurk around there ." The woman placed a hand on her shoulder. "You know how ruthless nobles are."
"Fuck them." Shayna snaped. "I'm not scared of their dainty little delicate selves."
"It's not that," the woman said quietly. "I dug around yesterday when you were gone. That woman is the prince's fiancée."
Shayna fell silent.
Even with her skills, it was foolish to mess with a high-ranking noble—let alone royalty. Those people were ruthless.
But that meant she was going to be loaded.
"No!" the woman interrupted immediately, as if reading her thoughts. "Don't even think about that. Remember what happened to Barny a few years back. "
Barny had been a few years older than them. He had once stolen a silver-studded dagger from a noble during a hunt. When the noble found out, he carved out Barny's eyes with that same dagger and left him to crawl back so that they could set an example.
"Yeah,"Shayna swallowed, uncomfortably, " But we're not that stupid."
"That's the future princess of Alvera. If she finds out, we'll be cut up and thrown to the vultures."
" I said I won't go near her residence again," Shayna snapped. "But if she goes out in public…"
"With a thousand guards."
"You're really roadkill, aren't you?"
"My pleasure."
Light footsteps approached the tent. The women fell silent at once. It was probably just a child, but they couldn't risk being overheard by an outsider.
"Aunty Amara!" A small boy ran inside and skidded toward the brown-haired woman.
"Reuben, what are you doing here?" Amara beamed, lifting him off the ground.
"Grandma sent me."
"Tell her I'm not marrying that drunkard Eric, no matter how much he begs," Amara rolled her eyes, annoyed.
"Aunt Shayna," the boy said suddenly.
She turned.
A thin beam of light slipped through the fabric and caught her hair, turning it pale gold. Dust shimmered around her like faint stars, and igniting her beautiful hazel eyes.
"You look so beautiful today, like a goddess " Reuben said, his eyes opened in wide awe.
"Aunty Shayna is really beautiful ", Amara acknowledged.
"Is that why you ran to Aunt Amara and not me?" Shayna raised her eyebrows playfully.
"No—I ran to Aunty Amara because Grandma told me to tell her that she shouldn't go to town today."
"Why?"
"She said the guards came and threatened the leader not to cause trouble because someone from the capital is visiting."
"That bratty prince," the women yelled in unison.
"She also said to tell you that there are a lot of guards at the market," he added. "But he won't stay long. He's just passing by."
"All that just to pass by?!" Shayna snatled.
"Well, he is a prince," Amara said dryly. "He might inhale poverty if he stays too long....But on the bright side, at least we don't have to all the stupid kneeling like the rest of the commoners. We could go fishing—Shayna, what are you doing?"
Amara's eyes glanced over at her friend who already halfway across to a corner, a bunch of rusted keys tightened in her palm . She reached the small iron chest in the corner, which akin to everything in the hut looked old and dusty. Crouching down to its level, she carefully unlocked it.
"Might as well make some money off his useless self," Shayna smiled, a plan already forming in her mind.