Chapter 20

The stone was cold and damp. They were deep under the palace now.

The air in this secret passage was thick with dust and mud, a far cry from the jasmine perfume of his room. With every step away from that tower, he felt lighter.

I could still run, he thought. His ribs throbbed with each breath—a souvenir from the Queen's version of love. Just put as much distance as possible between me and that damn chair. I could disappear into the woods before dawn.

But the two men leading him were the only reason he'd made it out of that room. Elian walked in front. Lykos followed behind, carrying a torch. Helenos had only ever known Lykos as the quiet servant who brought wood for the fire, but down here, Lykos moved like someone who'd spent half his life in the dark.

"Duck here," Lykos whispered, his voice rough as gravel. "The people who built this place never imagined a prince would be crawling through it."

Helenos lowered his head under a low arch. "Why are you doing this, Lykos? You’ve worked here for years. Why risk everything for me?"

Lykos stopped for a second. The torchlight showed the deep lines on his face. "Ten years back, I had a farm. A daughter. Miri." His voice caught on the name. He met Helenos's eyes, his jaw tight. "When the Queen decided to 'unite' the lands, her soldiers burned my crops so we’d have to rely on her for food. Miri didn't make it through the winter. We had nothing." He turned back to the path. "I’m not doing it because I like you, Helenos. I’m doing it because you’re the one thing she loves. Taking you away is the only way I can hit her back."

Oh god, not with the backstories, Helenos though, I just got back to my senses. And now I have to waste my time listening to a person’s tearful backstory. But I have to act kind for them to be kinder to me. Helenos knew from experience that it was easy to get into a person’s good side by acting like he was sympathizing with them.

He looked at Elian. "What about you? You’re a guard—you’ve got a future here. Why throw it away?"

Elian didn't stop walking. "My father was a captain for the old King. When Menelaia took over, he wouldn't kill the families of the people who spoke against her. She didn't kill him for it. Just sent him to the copper mines." His voice went flat. "He worked until his lungs gave out. Before he died, he told me a soldier serves the people, not just the person on the throne." Elian glanced back. "Thaila found me. She said you were the key. If the people see the 'Golden Prince' running away from her 'peace,' they’ll see her for what she is. I’m not just saving a man. I’m proving she’s a liar."

That was a lie. Elian was lying to him. Helenos could tell from the way he talked. It was pure nonsense.

"We're close," Lykos said, snuffing out the torch. The darkness swallowed everything. Helenos's heart kicked into a sprint. But he didn’t care. Getting out of there was his priority, and he did not want to waste time talking to him.

"The gate's twenty paces ahead," Elian whispered. "The guards change in three minutes. That’s when we go. Once we’re out, we take the cliff path. It’s narrow—one slip and you're done."

Helenos pressed his hand against the wall, feeling the grit. Above, armor clinked faintly.

"Now," Lykos breathed.

They pushed the hatch open. Night air rushed in—salt and pine and freedom. It tasted better than any wine.

They slipped through the cypress trees like ghosts. The palace was a dark shape behind them, the tower sticking up like a needle against the stars. Helenos glanced back once at the room where he’d spent so many drugged nights.

I could still run, the thought crept back. He could ditch Elian and Lykos and just vanish. But there was a feeling… was it the side affects?

What was I thinking again…

"There," Elian hissed, pointing.

Two guards stood by a small wooden door, clearly bored out of their minds. Both leaned on their spears, waiting for the end of their shift.

"I'll draw them off," Elian whispered. "When I do, get to the gate. Lykos has the key."

Before Helenos could speak, Elian stepped out. "Silas! Hey! You hear that? Something by the fountain!"

Both guards startled. "Elian? What’re you doing out here? You’re off duty."

"Saw something—a shadow. Big," Elian said, urgent. "Might be someone trying to get in. Come on, check it out before the Captain sees."

The guards exchanged a look, then followed him toward the middle of the garden.

"Now!" Lykos grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.

They ran. Gravel crunched loud under their feet—to Helenos it sounded like thunder. Every shadow looked like a hand reaching out. They reached the door, and Lykos shoved a heavy key into the lock. It made a rusty screech.

"Go!" Lykos shoved him through the opening.

Helenos stumbled onto the cliffside. The drop was staggering—white waves crashed against rocks far, far below. The path was just a thin strip of shale on the side of the mountain. Lykos stepped out, locked the door from the outside, and hurled the key into the darkness.

"There is no going back now," Lykos said.

Helenos stared at the empty space where the key had vanished into the surf. A cold, prickling sensation ran up his spine, one that had nothing to do with the ocean breeze. The sudden finality of the sound—the key hitting the water—didn't feel like freedom. It felt like a trap springing shut.

"You’re pretty confident, Lykos," Helenos said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Throwing away the only way back before we’ve even cleared the ridge? That’s a lot of faith in a narrow path."

Lykos didn't look at him. He was already facing the ascent, pressed low against the stone. "Faith didn't get us this far. Hatred did. Now move. The wind’s picking up, and the shale won't hold if the rain starts."

Helenos took a step. His boots slid on the loose rock. Below, the ocean roared—a hungry, rhythmic growl. Waiting for a misstep. He glanced back at the locked door. Silent. Impassive against the palace wall. Something was wrong. The garden had been too easy to cross. Elian’s distraction had been too convenient. The guards? Far too willing to wander away for a phantom shadow.

She’s letting me go. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. This isn't an escape. This is a relocation.

He thought of the tea again. Had she stopped the drugs, or just changed the recipe? That strange lapse in his memory—the way his thoughts had just dissolved into a blank slate—was a warning sign. He wasn't as clear-headed as he'd convinced himself. He was a man walking through a fog, thinking he could see the stars.

"Lykos." Helenos stopped. "Where exactly are we going? Not just 'the mountains.' Give me a name. A camp. Someone who’s expecting us."

Lykos turned his head, his face shadowed in the moonlight. "We go to the high caves. To the people who wait for the Prince. They need to see that the Queen doesn't own everything she touches."

"They need to see a puppet who changed hands," Helenos said, bitterness flooding his mouth. He realized that everyone—Menelaia, Thaila, Elian, and now Lykos—saw him as a piece of leverage. A symbol to be kept in a tower or a flag to be waved in a muddy camp. Nobody was interested in the man who’d been a developer. The man who just wanted to exist without being part of a grand design.

A single, distant bell began to toll from the palace heights. It wasn't the frantic clanging of a prison break. It was slow. Measured. Deliberate.

"That’s the hunting bell," Lykos whispered, fear cracking through his voice. "She's coming. And she's not bringing you back to the tower quietly. She’s coming to finish what she started."

Helenos looked up at the jagged peaks. If he followed Lykos, he was walking into a war he didn't understand. If he stayed, he was walking into a grave. He reached into his pocket and touched the bronze coin. He sought that strange clarity it usually provided. But the coin stayed silent and cold. No guidance. No surge of power. Just a piece of metal.

"Move, Helenos!" Lykos urged, reaching out to grab his tunic.

Helenos stepped back, dodging the man's grip. He looked at the cliff, then at the sky. He was tired of being moved around like a game piece. If he was going to be a weapon in this world, he was going to be the one who decided where the blow landed.

"I'm moving," Helenos said, his voice dropping low. "But don't think for a second that I believe a word of your story, old man. If we make it to the top, we’re going to have a very different conversation about who’s leading who."

He turned and started to climb. He had to go away for Menelaia.

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