Elira sat on the velvet chaise in the middle of the prince's chambers, arms crossed, brow furrowed, completely lost in thought.
I can't stay here.
I won't marry him just because he thinks it's "safer."
She had paced the room ten times, tried the windows twice (too high to jump), and even considered tying bedsheets together like in the movies—only to realize she couldn't even knot them properly.
The palace was massive, guarded, cursed, and crawling with secrets. But still, there had to be a way. Some way out.
"I just need one opening," she whispered to herself. "One chance."
Suddenly, the door creaked.
Elira froze.
She wasn't expecting anyone.
She turned—only to see Lady Seraphine, dressed in flowing emerald silk, gliding into the room like a storm in disguise.
"Oh," Elira said dryly, rising to her feet. "Here to measure me for a coffin or a wedding gown?"
Seraphine smirked. "Neither. Just thought I'd see the lucky bride before she's shackled to a throne she doesn't deserve."
Elira crossed her arms. "You're really committing to the villain arc, huh?"
Seraphine's eyes narrowed, stepping closer. "You don't belong here. You walk like a servant, eat like a child, and speak as if you're equals with a prince."
"Well, I walk just fine, thanks. And the last time I checked, being royal doesn't make you better, it just means you were born with a shinier spoon."
That caught Seraphine off guard.
She studied Elira for a beat, then said, "I'll give you credit. You have a spine. Pity it'll be crushed beneath the weight of that crown."
Elira raised an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you throw a drink in my face or challenge me to a duel?"
"No." Seraphine's tone shifted—lower, smoother. "This is the part where I offer you a way out."
Elira blinked. "Come again?"
Seraphine leaned in. "You don't want to marry him. I see it in your eyes. You're trying to act brave, but you're terrified."
"I'm trying to survive," Elira replied sharply.
"Exactly," Seraphine purred. "And I can help you do that."
Elira hesitated. "Why would you help me? You clearly despise me."
"I do," she admitted without flinching. "But I hate being ignored more. Elric hasn't looked at anyone else since you arrived. He used to nod at me. Speak to me. Now he acts like I don't exist."
"Oh, so this is personal."
"Deeply."
Seraphine's gaze hardened. "Listen. Tomorrow night, during the moonwatch festival, security will shift. You'll wear a hooded cloak. I'll distract the guards. You slip out through the east servants' gate. From there, it's your freedom."
Elira studied her closely. "Why would I trust you?"
"You shouldn't," Seraphine said with a wicked smile. "But you've run out of options."
Elira opened her mouth, then closed it.
She's not wrong.
This might be her only chance.
"I need time to think," Elira said carefully.
"You have until tomorrow at dusk," Seraphine replied, already turning toward the door. "After that, you marry a beast. And trust me—he won't stay charming forever."
The door shut behind her with a soft click.
Elira stood still, heart pounding, mind racing.
Could this actually work?
Or was she walking into a trap worse than the one she was already in?