The storm came early that night.
Thunder rolled across the sky like the growl of an impatient god, and the wind battered the manor walls with cold, relentless hands.
Hakeem had been ready since dusk. A small bag lay by the stable door — coin, bread, and the forged travel papers he'd bribed a clerk to sign. The black mare, his father's favourite, stamped restlessly, sensing the tension in the air.
He checked the time by the lantern's flicker. Nearly midnight. In less than an hour, Hyacinth would slip through the servants' hall and meet him by the east gate.
If all went well, by dawn they would be miles from Mickelson lands.
If not…
He refused to finish the thought.
---
Inside the manor, silence stretched thinly over chaos. The Duchess had retired early, claiming a headache from the storm, while the Duke remained in his study, reviewing letters by candlelight.
Only Selene was awake, sitting at her window as rain streaked the glass. Her room overlooked the eastern courtyard — and though she didn't know why, she kept glancing toward the gate.
Something in the air felt wrong.
Lightning flashed, illuminating a shadow moving quickly across the yard — tall, cloaked, purposeful. Then another, smaller figure followed moments later, clutching a shawl to her chest.
Selene leaned forward. Her heart leapt. Hyacinth.
And the man — she didn't need to see his face to know. Hakeem.
She rose at once, her pulse a frantic drum.
---
At the gate, Hyacinth's hands trembled as she struggled with the latch. Rain had slicked the iron, turning it stubborn beneath her fingers.
Hakeem caught her wrists gently. "Easy. It's just the storm. We'll be clear of it soon."
Her eyes shone in the lantern light, equal parts terror and longing. "I keep thinking someone will see us."
"Then we must be gone before they do."
The carriage waited just beyond the wall — a simple one, hired in secret. The driver huddled beneath his cloak, unaware of the names of those he carried.
Hakeem turned back toward the manor one last time. Through the sheets of rain, the house loomed like a memory — tall, proud, and utterly cold.
He took Hyacinth's hand. "Come."
They had taken only a few steps when a voice sliced through the wind.
"Hakeem!"
He froze.
Selene stood at the archway, drenched, her gown clinging to her frame. Her hair whipped across her face as she ran toward them.
"Hakeem, stop!"
"Selene—what are you doing here?"
"You can't," she gasped. "They'll find you before dawn! Father already suspects—he sent word to have your luggage searched. The steward told me."
Hakeem's stomach twisted. "Then I have to go now. If he knows—"
Selene seized his arm. "You don't understand! If you run, it won't just be you. They'll take it out on her. You'll destroy her, not save her."
Rain plastered her hair to her cheeks, her eyes desperate and wild.
Hyacinth's voice trembled behind him. "She's right. I can't let you lose everything because of me."
He turned to her, thunder cracking above them. "You are everything."
Selene's tears mixed with the rain. "Then be patient. There are other ways. I'll speak to Father. I'll—"
"Selene," he said gently, "you can't save us. You can barely save yourself."
The words hung between them like lightning. She flinched, as if struck.
"I don't need saving," she whispered. But her voice broke halfway through.
For a moment, the three of them stood there, rain beating down, the future hanging by a thread.
Then, from the darkness behind Selene, came the sound of footsteps — heavy, deliberate, unmistakable.
The Duke.
---
The iron gate creaked open, light spilling from the lantern he carried. His expression was carved from stone, his cloak dark with rain.
"Enough," he said quietly. "This ends now."
Hakeem stepped forward, placing himself between Hyacinth and his father. "You gave me a name, Father, but not a life. I'm taking the rest for myself."
The Duke's voice was calm, almost weary. "Do you imagine love will feed you? Shield you from what the world will say? You think this girl understands the weight you carry?"
"I think she understands what it means to be human," Hakeem said. "Which is more than I can say for this house."
Lightning split the sky again, casting them all in stark white light.
Selene moved closer, trembling. "Father, please—"
"Go back inside," the Duke ordered.
But Selene didn't move. "You're destroying us," she cried. "All of us! Can't you see?"
His eyes softened for the briefest instant. "I see a son who would throw away his birthright, and a daughter too fragile to bear the world as it is. That is what I see."
He turned to the guards approaching behind him. "Take the girl back to her quarters. And see that my son does not leave the grounds tonight."
Hyacinth backed away, her face pale as the moon. Hakeem caught her hand — but the guards were already there, closing in.
"Run!" he shouted.
She hesitated, just long enough to meet his eyes — then turned and fled into the rain, vanishing into the storm.
Hakeem tried to follow, but two strong arms seized him from behind. The Duke's command cut through the chaos:
> "Lock the gates."
The thunder swallowed his words, and the storm roared on, uncaring.
---
That night, the manor slept uneasy.
Selene wept quietly behind her door.
The Duke sat alone in his study, staring into the dying fire.
And Hakeem, locked in his room, stood at his window, rain blurring his view of the world beyond the walls.
Somewhere in the dark, perhaps, Hyacinth still ran — a single spark of defiance against an empire of obedience.