It had only been a day since I collapsed into bed, sore from Grandmama's dagger lessons. One night of half-sleep, and already it felt like a fragile bubble of peace we couldn't afford.
I woke to the smell of fresh bread and woodsmoke, the kind of scent that almost made me forget I was a fugitive. Pale morning light filtered through the dusty curtains. The blanket around me had twisted in the night from tossing and turning—I remembered dreaming of Marius's hand closing around my wrist like a manacle.
My muscles still ached from yesterday's knife practice. I sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The last thing I remembered was collapsing after hours of drills, my pride bruised and my body worse for wear.
Alessio had returned not long before I woke, boots damp and eyes sharp from an early scout. From the kitchen, I heard his voice low and tense with Grandmama's.
"...Mellerfen's the only option..."
"You'll need to move soon. His men are getting closer."
My stomach growled, loud and undignified. I pressed a hand to it, wincing. The survival instinct, apparently, didn't care about fear.
When I stepped into the main room, Alessio was setting the table while Grandmama stirred a pot over the hearth.
"Sounds like a beast in there," Alessio teased as he caught sight of me.
"Sorry," I muttered. "My survival instincts are rebelling."
Grandmama shot me a look. "Quiet your stomach before it wakes the whole forest."
Alessio hid a smile behind his hand, and I bit back a retort. Survival trumped pride.
Finally, Grandmama set a plate of steaming bread and stew on the table. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
I didn't need to be told twice. I tore into the bread, savoring the warm, buttery taste, while Alessio ate with more restraint.
Between bites, I glanced around the cottage. The walls were cluttered with faded maps, old tools, and a few curious objects that looked vaguely alchemical. A bundle of dried herbs hung near the window, swaying in the morning breeze.
"So," I ventured, glancing at Grandmama, "you really taught Alessio to throw daggers?"
She squinted at me. "And how to gut a fish. Shame he's better at the first."
"I still have scars from that fishing trip," Alessio muttered.
I tried to imagine Alessio—golden retriever knight extraordinaire—failing at anything, and it didn't compute. Grandmama's unimpressed look clearly didn't spare princes.
"So, what's your plan?" Grandmama asked, not looking up from her stew.
Alessio straightened. "We need to get to Mellerfen, but the roads are crawling with Marius' men. We'll wait a day or two, gather supplies, and move at night."
Grandmama grunted. "You think the duke will just give up and go home?"
Alessio's expression hardened. "No. He's relentless. Especially when it comes to Sonia."
A shiver crawled up my spine. I couldn't help but think of Marius' dark eyes, the way his hand lingered on my cheek as if memorizing my face. The image left a bitter taste, cutting through the warmth of the bread.
"If Marius is as possessive as you say," Grandmama continued, "then he won't stop until he gets what he wants. Are you prepared for that?"
Alessio hesitated, his jaw tightening. "I'll protect her. I promised."
"Promises don't stop blades," she shot back.
Silence settled like dust. I forced down another bite, feeling Alessio's tension in the air.
Clearing my throat, I spoke up. "Marius won't just chase us. He'll try to discredit me. Maybe spread rumors or accuse me of some crime to justify the pursuit."
Grandmama nodded, as if that made sense. "A man like that doesn't like losing face. Your escape challenges his control."
Alessio's hand twitched on the table, and I wondered if he realized how protective he looked. "That's why we need to get far from here—where his influence doesn't reach."
I wanted to say that even the empire might not be far enough. Marius's reach didn't end at the border—he had allies in places most nobles didn't dare look. I'd seen the names in his letters. Even the ones written in cipher. But arguing wouldn't help, so I swallowed the thought along with the last of the bread.
* * *
We'd barely cleared our plates when a knock shattered the quiet.
Alessio and I exchanged a glance before he rose, quiet and controlled, placing himself near the wall with a hand on his sword. Grandmama didn't seem fazed. She wiped her hands on her apron and ambled to the door.
She cracked it open just enough to peek through. "Yes?"
A gruff male voice responded. "We're looking for a runaway. Young woman. Pink hair. Might be with a man. Orders from Duke Wittelsbach."
Grandmama didn't even blink. "I'm a widow in the woods. What would I want with runaways?"
A pause. "Have you seen anyone suspicious?"
She snorted. "Just your ugly mug this morning. Now shove off before I decide to call down curses on your hide."
The guard muttered something I didn't catch, but his footsteps retreated. Alessio relaxed a fraction.
Grandmama shut the door with a grimace. "Idiots. No wonder Marius keeps losing things if that's his search party."
"Thank you," I whispered, still a little shaky.
She waved it off. "Eat faster next time. They're too stupid to look through windows, but not every patrol will be."
"I hadn't even had time to tell them what I saw near the stream before we heard the knock," Alessio said grimly. "Fresh boot prints. Too clean to be old."
Grandmama grunted. "He's closing in."
"We'll need to scout out the area," Alessio added. "Make sure no one's circling back."
She nodded. "Be quick. Marius might not be patient, but he's thorough. One of his men'll figure out you came this way sooner or later."
After breakfast, Alessio gestured for me to follow him outside. We moved around the back of the cottage, where a narrow trail led toward a cluster of pines.
He stopped and turned to face me. "Are you alright?"
I exhaled slowly. "I... don't know. I thought I'd feel better once we escaped, but I still feel like I'm in a cage—just one with trees instead of velvet drapes and a shackle."
His expression softened. "It's normal. You've been through a lot. No one expects you to bounce back instantly."
"I just—" My words caught in my throat. "I didn't expect to be so... scared all the time."
Gently, he reached out, brushing a leaf from my hair. "Fear means you're alive. And you're doing more than surviving—you're fighting back."
The warmth of his touch lingered even after his hand dropped to his side. I looked up at him, caught between gratitude and something else I couldn't quite name.
A rustle in the trees made us both tense, but it was just a bird taking flight. Still, the adrenaline spike didn't fade easily.
Alessio's gaze was steady, calm, like an anchor. "We'll make it. I promise."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to cling to that calm certainty. "You've been running your whole life, haven't you?"
He glanced away, his jaw tightening. "In a way. Always hiding. Always pretending. But with you... it feels different. Like there's something worth fighting for."
My heart did an uncomfortable flip. I wanted to say something—anything to break the fragile tension. But all that came out was, "You're really bad at fishing."
Alessio blinked, then let out a startled laugh. His laugh was warm and unguarded, and I couldn't help but join in. For a moment, we were just two people laughing in the forest—not fugitives on the run.
He glanced at me again, the soft smile still there. "You're... different than I expected."
"So you keep saying."
"This version of you—she's stronger. I like that."
I wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or worried. Alessio's sincerity was a little too earnest for my self-preservation instincts.
But before I could respond, Grandmama's sharp voice cut through the air. "If you're done making eyes at each other, there's work to do. Get back inside."
My face heated, and Alessio coughed into his hand, his ears turning crimson.
"Coming!" I called, not meeting his eyes as we trudged back.
As we reached the cottage door, Alessio leaned closer and murmured, "She likes you, by the way. Trust me—she only insults people she tolerates."
Somehow, that made me feel better.
If I could win over the murder grandma, maybe surviving Marius wouldn't be completely impossible.
To be continued