The morning mist hung thick over the capital, veiling its filth and its secrets beneath a ghostly calm. Kael moved like a shadow through the narrow streets, fingers brushing against hanging purses, counting guards by habit, eyes drawn to the glimmer of unattended coin.

But as he reached the heart of the city, the market square.

Wooden platforms had been raised overnight, flanked by guards in polished armor that caught the gray light. In the middle of it all stood the execution scaffold — a single block, dark with old stains, and a gleaming axe resting on a stand beside it. Kael’s steps slowed, unease creeping up his spine.

Then he saw her.

Dragged out by two soldiers, her hands bound, her head held high despite the ropes at her wrists. She wore a light blue gown that once must have shone like morning sky, now dulled by grime and torn fabric. A cream-colored blindfold covered her eyes, tied carefully — almost reverently. Around her neck hung a simple pearl necklace, glinting faintly against her pale skin.

Kael’s breath caught. The princess.

He had seen her once before, years ago — not close, but enough to remember the look in her eyes when she spoke to the poor gathered by the palace gates. She had been different. She had given bread when others offered words, hope when others gave orders. Now she stood at the mercy of those she had defied.

A herald stepped forward, voice booming: “Princess Arienne of Edrath, heir to the throne, is hereby found guilty of high treason — for conspiring against the crown, and for consorting with enemies of the state. Her sentence is death by blade.”

The crowd gasped, but no one moved. No one dared.

Kael felt something sharp twist inside him. Treason? He didn’t believe it for a moment. She was the only one who had ever cared for people like him — and this was how the kingdom repaid her.

The guards forced her to kneel. Her gown pooled around her, her shoulders trembling only slightly. Even blindfolded, she held a kind of quiet dignity, her clasped hands steady in her lap. The executioner lifted the axe, testing its weight.

Kael didn’t think. He moved.

A noble nearby stood frozen in fascination, clutching a heavy coin purse. Kael’s hand darted out, swift as breath — the purse was his. But before anyone noticed, he spun and shoved it into the pocket of a merchant beside him. Then, with a sharp voice, he pointed. “Thief!”

Chaos erupted. Guards surged, shouting. The crowd broke apart, people shoving, panicking. The executioner hesitated, turning toward the commotion.

Kael slipped through the turmoil like smoke. He vaulted over a low fence, dodged a swinging blade, and in three strides he was at the platform. The guards barely saw him before he struck one in the throat with his elbow, sending him gasping to the ground. The second swung a sword; Kael ducked beneath it, slamming his shoulder into the man’s chest.

“Move!” he hissed, grabbing Arienne by the arm.

She startled, her blindfold turning toward his voice. “Who—?”

“No time.”

He pulled her from the block, dragging her toward the edge of the scaffold as shouts rose behind them. The executioner roared, the herald screamed orders, but the market was already a storm. Kael kicked over a basket of apples, sending them rolling beneath charging feet. A guard slipped, crashing into another. He and Arienne vanished into the crush.

“Keep your head down,” he whispered as they stumbled into a narrow alley. She obeyed, still blindfolded, her breathing ragged. Her fingers clung to his s