Chapter 25
The cool night air kissed my flushed skin as I stepped outside.
Marcus clasped my shoulder, turning from the driver.
Crickets threaded the dark. The moon hung high—pale, watchful.
I forced my breathing to steady, to quiet the tremor beneath my ribs, and gathered myself before climbing into the carriage.
As the wheels rolled, I held on to one thought. Livia and Jorius must have succeeded.
A hush settled over the city. Merchants dismantled their stalls, hauling away the last scraps of the Imperial market.
Wood scraped. Voices murmured, low with fatigue.
The first steps would be the most dangerous—leaving the Ludaryn unseen, reaching Marcus’s villa.
I could jump now, vanish into the dark. But the Lornwild would swallow us without provisions. It never gave without taking first.
Before I knew it, the carriage stilled. I stepped onto the cold stone, lifting my dress, ignoring the torn slit as I walked inside. Not too fast. Not too slow. My head lowered.
Servants passed without pause. Guards held their posts, their attention elsewhere. No one stopped me.
Inside my chamber, I shut the door and leaned against it. The weight of the night hit me—Talia, the women’s voices, the slow stripping of my agency. Tears came. But I swallowed them down. Later.
My gaze caught the satchel beside a bundled fur cloak. I crossed the room and dropped to my knees, rifling through it. Water. Food, even a pouch filled with coins. And a folded note on top.
Tina,Leave the grounds through the courtyard. The guard at the gate will be gone at midnight. Don’t return. We wish you luck in this life.Much love, your dearest friends,Jorius and Livia.
I crushed the note in my fist and pressed it to my chest. No tears this time.
Just the weight of what they’d risked—for me.
In this place, where everything had been stripped from me piece by piece, they had given some part of me back.
Friendship. Loyalty. A reason to keep fighting.
If this failed… the thought of the consequences was unbearable.
Focus. I took a deep breath and folded the note carefully before tucking it into my satchel.
Steadier now, I moved toward the window and lifted my gaze to the moon, waiting for the hour when I would reclaim my future and leave the Ludaryn behind. Elion would have no choice but to help me. The alternative meant handing me back. He wouldn’t do that. Not willingly. This had to work.
I couldn’t be certain, but the hour felt close. I changed quickly into the Ludaryn leathers, my fingers pausing only a moment as I mourned my old uniform and the loss of my father’s dagger. There was no time to dwell on what couldn’t be reclaimed.
I slung the satchel over my shoulder and gathered the furs before pulling a black cloak over the gray leathers. As I braided my hair back, the tight pull at my scalp sent a throb through the wound at my temple, but I refused to let my hands tremble.
I crossed to the door and eased it open. A pair of guards now stood at the exit toward the Atrium, their spears crossed loosely before them. Goddess damn it.
I had no choice. I had to take a chance. I straightened my shoulders and walked toward them at an unhurried pace. They lowered their spears as I approached.
“It is midnight, Bondward. Return to your chambers. You have no business outside this hall,” one of them said, both their gazes dropping to the satchel and furs at my side.
“I have just returned from the Aedile’s villa with Marcus,” I replied evenly. “He sent me back due to my injuries. My head has been throbbing, and I could not sleep. I must visit the medicus. Marcus fears infection.”
They exchanged a glance. One gave a slow nod, but the other dipped his chin. “And that?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Clothes for afterward. I am expected elsewhere… though I would prefer discretion.”
Their curiosity turned crude as their attention drifted lower. “Who would expect a Bondward at this hour, especially one who claims to be ill?”
I rose onto my toes as if to confide in them. “Please do not speak of it. It is Marcus. If he hears you have repeated it… neither of us will fare well.”
They looked at one another again, calculation replacing suspicion.
After a moment, they shrugged and stepped aside, drawing their spears back.
The door opened, then closed behind me with a muted thud.
On the other side, their voices carried through the wood, low and amused, wondering whether the old man would have the stamina to handle a young woman like me.
Their laughter followed me into the Atrium. I didn’t falter.
The first obstacle had been overcome. Now the courtyard.
The guard at the iron doors studied me as I repeated the excuse of my injuries.
He didn’t question me. Without a word, he unlocked the heavy chains and pulled the door open.
It shut behind me with a deep crack that echoed through the night.
I allowed myself one sigh of relief. That was easier than it should have been.
I pulled the cloak over my head, hiding the brightness of my hair as I watched Kharos.
He lifted his massive head from sleep, green eyes finding me at once—the same color as Vayren’s—and a low purr rumbled through the silent courtyard.
I would miss him. He’d saved me from a fate I didn’t dare name, and somewhere along the way we had formed a bond I hadn’t expected.
But it couldn’t be helped. He would never abandon Vayren, and I couldn’t slip unseen through the city with a saber at my side.
I forced myself to look away, toward the gates. The absence of the guard was unmistakable. I gave a silent thanks to Jorius and Livia.
I ran. My boots struck the sand too loudly in my ears. I pulled the gate open, slipped through, and closed it behind me with care. Then I rushed along the high walls.
For the first time in weeks, I tasted freedom. No whip. No commands. No watchful eyes tracking my every movement. Only the cool night air against my skin and the wild pounding of my heart as the Ludaryn receded behind me.
The air felt lighter beyond the walls, the weight on my shoulders easing as I hurried through the sleeping streets. With every step, something inside me stirred awake, a quiet reclaiming of self. They had taken much from me. But not everything.
My lungs strained as I ran, the cold air cutting into my throat.
A few people lingered in the streets, turning to stare as I passed—a cloaked young woman at this hour, moving too fast to ignore.
The sconces had long since burned out, but the moon hung bright above, casting a pale silver light that kept the darkness from swallowing the roads entirely. It guided my path forward.
My body wanted to slow long before I allowed it.
But years spent following Elion through the Lornwild had carved endurance into me early—scrambling over roots slick with rain, ducking beneath tangled vines, leaping fallen trunks while he laughed and told me to keep up.
Compared to the forest, the city streets felt almost forgiving.
Even so, exhaustion was beginning to catch me.
I turned a corner sharply, my legs dragging now, muscles tightening in protest. I had already pushed my body too far—first the assassins, then Vayren, and now this relentless sprint.
Sweat dampened my skin beneath the leathers as I slowed, breath ragged.
When I lifted my head, Marcus’s villa loomed before me. Tall. Silent. Waiting.
Curse my impulsiveness. I hadn’t thought this through.
How was I meant to enter—and more importantly, leave again with Elion at my side?
I sagged against the cold stone in the alley beside a drinking house still crowded with golden-pierced patrons.
Their laughter scraped against my nerves, fraying what little composure I had left.
I closed my eyes briefly and forced myself to think.
There was no other choice. I would have to walk in as though I belonged there. As though I was expected. Stealth would never get me past the guards.
The last time I had visited, Elion had been kept on the upper floor. My gaze found the high window along the stone wall, but there was no path to reach it. I could not scale smooth stone like some thief in a tale. No. Boldness would have to suffice.
I pulled off my cloak and shoved it into my satchel. Lifting my chin, I started toward the entrance—
A scream tore through the night. I froze.
The guards at the gate whirled around as the doors burst open and a woman stumbled out, tears streaking her cheeks, her sobs breaking as she clutched at one of them. She spoke in frantic gasps. The guards exchanged alarmed looks before rushing back inside. More shouts followed, echoing from within.
The way was suddenly clear. It felt too easy.
I lingered for half a heartbeat in the shadows, listening to the chaos spilling from within the villa—the hurried footsteps, the distant shouting, the sharp edge of panic cutting through the night.
Every instinct warned me something was wrong, but I ignored it. This was my chance.
I could scarcely believe my luck as I slipped past the gates and into the villa, keeping low beneath the cover of the darkness.
Inside—chaos. Servants rushed through the halls, voices low and urgent as they tried to restore order. It was past midnight. No one should have been awake. The guards were already taking the stairs two at a time. Toward the upper floors. Toward Elion.
Stealth no longer mattered. Adrenaline surged as I followed, my pulse roaring in my ears. But when I reached the upper floor—
I slowed. Bodies lay everywhere. Guards. Servants. Sprawled across the corridor, blood pooling dark beneath them. Spears lay discarded beside lifeless hands, throats slit cleanly, doors hanging open as if whatever had passed through hadn’t bothered to close them.