If I had to rank all the questionable life decisions I've made since waking up this morning, "escaping a heavily guarded estate with a stranger I met once, while wearing a nightgown and no shoes" would still rank somewhere between "chewing iron" and "talking back to a red-flag love interest with murder eyes."
But here we were.
Alessio led the way through the mist-laced garden like he'd walked it blindfolded a hundred times. I clutched the edge of my nightgown like it might offer emotional support, dodging thorny rose bushes and praying my feet didn't step on something poetic like a serpent or a landmine.
"How far is this chapel?" I hissed.
"Close," Alessio murmured, barely turning his head. "Stay behind me."
"I am behind you! I'm stapled to behind-you!"
We skidded to a halt behind a stone angel that had definitely seen some things. Up ahead was the chapel—small, ancient, and blessedly empty.
Alessio pointed. "See that statue of Saint Illoria? There's a panel beneath it. I'll lift it—you crawl in."
I blinked. "Crawl? Like... hands and knees crawl?"
"Unless you want to scale the outer wall and risk the night guards."
"…Fine. But this is going on my personal list of humiliations. Right after 'raven judged me through a window.'"
Alessio knelt and pressed something at the base of the statue. With a faint click, a square of stone loosened and revealed a narrow passageway no wider than a laundry chute.
He turned to me. "Ladies first."
I gave him a look. "Don't flatter me. If something jumps out in there, I'm using your royal face as a shield."
He grinned. "Noted."
And I crawled in.
The tunnel smelled like old dirt and regret. Cool stone brushed my arms and knees, and the darkness was so complete I almost missed the comforting flicker of the lantern Alessio lit behind me.
"Almost there," he whispered. "Just another few meters."
I was about to make a sarcastic comment when the passage tilted sharply downward.
"Wait—waitwaitWAIT—!"
Too late.
Gravity took over, and I slid down like a luge athlete with no coordination and too much existential baggage. I yelped the entire way down, crashing into a padded barrier at the end with the grace of a potato in a laundry dryer.
Alessio followed a beat later, landing neatly beside me with a thud and zero screaming. Show-off.
I sat up, dazed. "Please tell me that wasn't the only way."
He shrugged. "It's fast."
"And mildly traumatic. But sure, let's go with fast."
We were in what looked like a wine cellar—barrels stacked high, dust hanging thick in the air. A single door creaked open on the far end, leading to a moonlit forest beyond.
Freedom.
Or, at least, forest-themed confusion.
"Come on," Alessio said. "We can rest once we're in the trees."
I followed him out, heart pounding. The cold night air hit me like a slap—brisk, clean, and more real than anything I'd felt since waking up in this world.
For a moment, I just stood there, toes sinking into the soft dirt, head tilted toward the stars.
Not a dream.
Not a story anymore.
I was really here.
Alive.
On the run.
In a nightgown.
"Do you want to change before we continue?" Alessio asked gently.
I looked down at myself. I was a walking cautionary tale.
"…You have clothes?"
He pointed to a leather pack he'd retrieved from a hollow in a tree. "I planned ahead."
"Bless your royal contingency-planning heart."
We ducked behind a thicket, and I changed quickly into a set of sturdy trousers, a tunic, and a hooded cloak. Simple, practical, and blessedly not pink.
When I stepped out, Alessio raised an eyebrow. "You look ready to rob a coach."
I grinned. "Only emotionally."
We started walking, our boots crunching softly against the forest floor.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the border," he replied. "There's a town called Mellerfen. I have allies there. We can hide until we figure out how to expose Marius."
"Right. Marius. The 'so charming' ex who thought shackles were a love language."
Alessio gave me a sidelong glance. "You handled him better than most would."
"He made obsession look like devotion. I fell for it."
He chuckled softly. "You're surprisingly calm for someone who was shackled this morning."
I shrugged. "Shock. And caffeine withdrawal."
A pause.
"You're not what I expected."
I looked at him. "That's twice now you've said that. What did you expect? A sobbing, trembling damsel?"
He didn't answer right away.
"You used to smile like you had the sun in your pocket. Then one day, you didn't."
I blinked. "Oh."
He glanced over. "You held it together better than most would have… shackled and all. I like this version of you."
My mouth quirked. "So you're saying you prefer me unhinged."
"Not unhinged," he said, almost softly. "Just real."
We walked in silence for a while. The moonlight filtered through the trees like falling silver, and for a moment, the world didn't feel so terrifying.
Then I heard it.
A sharp, distant crack—like a branch snapping under a heavy foot.
Alessio froze.
"Someone's tracking us," he whispered. "Hide."
We darted behind a tree, crouching low.
Another sound—closer. A faint rustle of fabric. The glint of metal.
Then—a voice. Male. Cold.
"They went this way. Search the lower path."
My blood turned to ice.
Guards.
Alessio shifted slightly, one hand on his sword, posture taut. We waited.
Footsteps passed. One set. Then another.
Then silence.
Minutes ticked by.
Only when Alessio let out a slow breath did I realize I'd been holding mine.
He leaned close. "We can't head to Mellerfen yet. Looks like they've already sealed the roads."
"Then what now?"
He glanced up the hill. "We go to Clara's grandmother. She lives in a small cottage tucked away into the woods nearby. She's someone we've always trusted. We can hide there for now."
"Wait—Clara? My maid Clara?"
He nodded. "Her family has served my mother's house long before the war."
I blinked. "You're saying our rescue depends on an old woman living alone in the woods?"
His lips twitched. "Don't underestimate her. She's one of the smartest women I know. She taught me how to throw a dagger."
I paused. "That's... actually impressive."
We moved again, quicker this time, adrenaline burning through my limbs. I didn't know what waited at Clara's grandmother's cottage—but it had to be better than returning to Marius.
And maybe, just maybe, it would be the start of something else.
Something that didn't end with obsession carved into my gravestone.