My fingers trembled as I pulled back and walked toward the wardrobe. The wooden doors creaked open, and I stared at the rows of gowns—silks, satins, embroidered velvets, each heavier and more impractical than the last.
Beautiful cages pretending to be clothing.
I shoved them aside and found the simplest one I owned: a soft, muted dress I had worn before coming to the palace. Something plain. Something forgettable.
Something free.
I laid it out on the bed, then moved toward the vanity, opening the drawers silently. Jewelry glittered inside—necklaces, bracelets, rings—all gifts from Darius. All symbols of a bond that had killed me once.
I shut the drawer sharply.
No.
I would not take anything from him.
Not even the things he once claimed I deserved.
I only grabbed what mattered: a small pouch, a few hair pins, a thin knife hidden beneath the brushes—one I had taken for safety back when I still believed danger would come from outside, not from timelines.
