Whispers drifted through the castle corridors: guests were arriving tonight. No one knew who they were. The secrecy was so absolute that only a few servants preparing the reception — and the baron's closest confidants — had been informed. Everyone else, from the lowest servant to the townspeople, had been driven away from the castle grounds.
To emphasize his command, the baron had tripled the number of guards, and soldiers marched through the streets all day, discouraging anyone from prying. The townsfolk, wiser than they looked, only dared to peer from behind shuttered windows, hoping to catch some hint of what was happening.
Most barely raised an eyebrow. Everyone assumed this was simply another of the baron's whims. And everyone knew that questioning the baron's decisions was a grave mistake — one that often ended with someone's head rolling far from their shoulders. Besides, the people had bigger concerns. The harvest of the previous year had been meager, winter had drained their reserves, and they had no idea how they would pay this month's taxes.
While the townsfolk struggled for survival in their crumbling homes, inside the castle an inconspicuously small figure slipped down a deserted hallway like a ghost.
"Stop right there!" a voice barked from behind a newly opened door.
The ghost froze, head hanging low.
"Did they not tell you to stay in your room until His Lordship summons you?" It was hard to tell whether the elderly maid spoke with irritation or pity. She seized the cloaked figure by the shoulder and spun her around.
Large, pale green eyes lifted toward her, paired with a faintly guilty smile. The maid looked her up and down — and began to click her tongue in sharp disapproval. Definitely irritation.
"And where exactly are you going, foolish girl?" she demanded.
"What makes you think I'm going anywhere, Esthelle?" the girl replied.
Deep creases dug even deeper into the woman's already wrinkled brow.
"Do you take me for a simpleton? Why are you wearing that?"
Indeed — the "ghost" was no ghost at all, but a young girl. A thin, delicate body drowned inside trousers several sizes too large and a man's shirt even bigger than the trousers, all hidden beneath a gray cloak. A mass of copper-red curls — which made her pale skin look even more ghostly — was tied tightly back beneath the hood.
"I just… I only…" the girl stammered. Clearly, she had not expected to be caught sneaking out of the castle. Finally, with a sigh of defeat and a touch of remorse in her voice, she lifted her shoulders.
"You wouldn't want me to lie, would you? And if I tell the truth, we'll both be in trouble. Dear, sweet Esthelle… You know how much I love you. You're my only friend and confidante here." She began to flatter shamelessly. "Please let me go about my business. Don't tell anyone." She placed her hand gently atop the maid's, which was gripping her wrist far too tightly — tightly enough to bruise. She patted it lightly. "I promise I'll be back in time. No one will notice I'm gone. It's still early…"
"Oh, stop that sweet-talking. I know what you're planning." Esthelle cut her off with a scolding glare. "But listen to me, Leonie. Last time I took the blame for you when you accidentally broke the expensive vase the king gifted him. Nearly got thrown out onto the streets because of your recklessness. If you get caught now, I won't help. I'll stand there and watch him thrash you."
Leonie's head dropped. Sadness flickered in her eyes. She nodded.
"I understand."
Without another word, she turned and darted down the corridor. She sprinted around a corner, down a narrow staircase toward the servants' quarters. Luckily, the few remaining servants were busy in the kitchens or the reception hall, so she reached a small side door unnoticed. It opened onto a dirt path used only rarely — only when the baron happened to be generous enough to let his servants visit their families.
The baron. Esthelle had been right — again. That ridiculous vase had meant more to him than any human life, simply because the king had given it to him. He told every guest about it, bragged endlessly about his friendship with the king — a claim no one dared to challenge. The baron was infamous throughout the realm: cruel, violent, and fond of torture. A truly despicable man. If he caught her now, she would likely spend weeks bedridden with broken bones.
And that would be the fortunate outcome.
Leonie shook her head to clear the darkness gathering in her thoughts. She slipped into the city, staying in the shadows of the houses, until she reached an old mill. Abandoned long ago. Perfect.
She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. A quick glance around — then she strode confidently toward a trapdoor hidden beneath broken sacks of grain. Clearly not her first time.
The baron's ancestors had been paranoid too — thankfully. Several tunnels led out of the city, though most had collapsed. This one had been deemed unusable years ago. But after months of effort, Leonie had cleared a narrow passage just wide enough for her to squeeze through. Dangerous, yes. But poor people made do with the tools they had.
And Leonie needed to escape the castle walls. Even a few minutes of pretend freedom kept her sane.
An hour passed before she reached the familiar gnarled tree where the purple-stemmed dawnflowers grew. She was searching for them when she heard the thunder of hooves. She froze and pressed herself against the trunk.
She held her breath as she listened — the riders were laughing while casually discussing burning the city to the ground.
Her heart stopped.
Who are they? What are they doing here?
On this part of the forest, only hunters came — and these men were certainly not hunters.
Then it hit her.
The baron's mysterious guests.
They had to be.
But why weren't they using the main road like every other noble visitor?
Curiosity overcame fear.
Just one look. One quick look. They won't even hear me breathe…
Leonie stepped sideways and leaned out from behind the tree.
And the air left her lungs.
The two men were enormous — even their horses looked monstrous. One rode a jet-black stallion, his long pale blond hair bound in intricate braids. His broad shoulders filled out tight black leather like a second skin. Iron earrings glinted from both ears. His entire presence radiated raw danger and promised death.
The other rode a silver-gray mount. Only slightly smaller, slimmer, with shoulder-length brown waves that floated around his face like they had a will of their own. His expression seemed brighter. Friendlier.
At least, it should have — given they were joking about slaughtering an entire castle.
Leonie swallowed hard. No wonder the baron had issued so many orders. These men were deadly. Too deadly for anyone in the city to cross paths with.
She needed to leave. Now. As though she had never been there.
She waited until the riders moved a safe distance away, then stepped out from behind the tree and hurried back the way she'd come.
She made it only a few steps.
Thunderous hoofbeats shook the ground behind her.
But how—? She had waited until they disappeared…
This was it.
After surviving the baron for years, she would die here in the forest — alone, nameless, crushed under hooves. She would have preferred countless other deaths, but when had she ever been given a choice?
The pounding grew louder. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a desperate prayer.
She took two steps — and slammed into something solid. Hard. Like a stone wall.
She bounced backward like a rag doll and crashed onto the ground. Gasping for air, she opened her eyes…
…and instantly wished the horses had trampled her.