Murda looked at her with a sly smile. "Okay, now your turn. What did you get up to after we separated?"
Nysa hesitated. She couldn't say what actually happened. No one would believe her anyway—and if they did, who knew what kind of trouble it would stir?
"My dress tore a little," she said instead, gesturing at the rip in her back. "Lioren gave me his coat to cover up. That's all."
Murda's brows rose. "Lioren gave you his coat?" Then her lips curled in amusement. "How gallant. Should we be expecting an announcement soon?"
"Stop it," Nysa groaned, adjusting the coat self-consciously. "It wasn't like that."
Murda laughed, bumping her shoulder lightly. "Relax. I'm only teasing."
Desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere, Nysa asked, "Have you seen Lioren this morning?"
Murda shook her head. "Not yet. I thought he'd be waiting by now, but maybe he's still preparing the carriage or something."
"And Sera?"
"Oh, she's still in her room," Murda said with a chuckle. "She called it 'paradise' and said she might chain herself to the bedpost."
Nysa rolled her eyes but smiled. "Of course she did."
Together, they stepped outside, following a steady trickle of guests making their way through the palace gates. The early morning sun had begun to rise, casting soft gold across the palace grounds. In daylight, the palace looked even more spectacular—like something from a dream. The white walls glistened faintly, trimmed with gold that shimmered under the sun. Elegant stone paths wound through manicured gardens blooming with colors Nysa couldn't even name. Servants moved gracefully, guiding nobles to their carriages with practiced poise.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-kissed grass and the distant aroma of baking bread from the palace kitchens.
"Wow," Murda whispered. "It looks... unreal."
Nysa nodded, shielding her eyes slightly. She had seen the palace by night, glowing with lanterns and mystery. But by day, it looked like a painting—too perfect, too clean.
"There he is," Murda pointed ahead.
Lioren stood near a line of black royal carriages, speaking with a palace guard. He looked refreshed, his usual calm expression intact.
Sunlight spilled over the manicured gardens, gilding the cobblestone path where Lioren stood waiting, his tall frame silhouetted against the dawn.
Murda was the first to reach him, her golden hair bounced as she strode forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Good morning!" she chirped, her voice bright as the sunlight.
Lioren smiled, the expression softening his sharp features. "Good morning." His voice was calm, measured—a quiet contrast to Murda's energy.
Murda grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Enjoy your night?"
"It was peaceful," he replied simply, his gaze shifting past her to where Nysa lingered a few steps behind.
Nysa stood with her arms crossed, her fingers absently tracing the embroidery on the lace of her sleeves—a nervous habit. The morning light caught the faint shadows beneath her eyes, betraying a night of restless sleep. When Lioren's attention settled on her, she stiffened slightly, her hazel eyes flickering away.
"You?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.
Nysa exhaled through her nose, her voice barely above a murmur. "It was... okay."
"Just okay?" Murda cut in, throwing her hands up in exaggerated disbelief. "I had the time of my life! Wine that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, food that melted in my mouth, and a bed so soft. What's not to love?"
Lioren chuckled, the sound warm and low. "That does sound memorable."
Nysa shifted, her boots scuffing against the cobblestones. The palace loomed behind her, its grand arches and towering spires casting long shadows that seemed to stretch toward her like grasping fingers. She could still feel the ghost of the prince's gaze on her skin, the weight of his words pressing against her ribs. Every second here felt like borrowed time.
"Why aren't we leaving yet?" she asked, sharper than she intended.
Lioren's expression remained unreadable. "We're still waiting for Sera. She's not ready."
Nysa groaned, rubbing her temple. "Of course."
Murda nudged her with an elbow, smirking. "I thought you wanted to stay longer."
"No," Nysa said too quickly, her fingers tightening her beaded clutch. "I'm ready to go."
The courtyard was slowly emptying, noble guests drifting toward their carriages in clusters of silk and laughter. The clatter of hooves and the creak of wheels filled the air as one by one, the grand vehicles rolled away. Lioren leaned against the sleek black carriage reserved for their departure, his arms folded, his gaze distant. Murda, quietly observes her surroundings.
"By the time Sera graces us with her presence, the sun's going to set again," she muttered, crossing her arms.
Nysa didn't answer. She paced, her pulse a steady drumbeat in her ears. Every rustle of fabric, every distant voice, made her shoulders tense. What if someone stops us? What if he changes his mind?
Then, at last—Sera appeared.
She descended the palace steps with the dramatic flair of a stage actress, her emerald gown shimmering like liquid gemstones in the sunlight. The train of her dress whispered against the stone behind her, and her hair—still meticulously pinned from the night before—gleamed like spun gold. She paused halfway down, pressing a hand to her heart as she cast a wistful glance back at the palace.
"I'm going to miss this place so much!" she declared, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "Oh, the chandeliers! The velvet sheets! The food!"
Murda threw her head back with a laugh. "Get in already!"
Sera turned, sticking her tongue out in a childish gesture that clashed with her regal attire. "You're so rude, Murda. A lady needs a proper farewell."
"We're not nobles," Murda shot back, grinning. "And I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry."
With an exaggerated twirl of her skirts, Sera finally climbed into the carriage, still sighing about "never wanting to see her pathetic excuse for a pillow ever again." Murda rolled her eyes and clambered in after her. Nysa followed, her movements stiff, her breath shallow.
Lioren was the last to enter, his presence filling the space with quiet assurance. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in.
As the carriage lurched forward, Nysa turned to the window, watching as the palace—its gleaming windows, its towering gates, its immaculate white walls—shrunk into the distance. It looked like something from a painting now, unreal and untouchable.
A dream fading at dawn.
She exhaled, long and slow, as if releasing a breath she'd been holding all night.
Finally.
The coat still wrapped around her shoulders was warm, but it wasn't enough to settle her nerves. Not yet.
Beside her, Murda and Sera chatted animatedly, comparing what food they'd stolen for the road. Lioren sat across from them, quiet but alert. The wheels turned beneath them, carrying them away from gold and secrets, back to the familiarity of Windale.
.
.