The moon hung high, casting pale beams over the forest, but the thick canopy above barely let the light through. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you darted between the trees, your gown torn and muddy. Branches scratched at your skin, but you didn’t slow down. Behind you, the sound of men crashing through the underbrush echoed in the night—their voices low, dangerous, and far too close.

“Spread out! She can’t have gotten far!” one of the men shouted.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear driving you forward. The royal guards had been ambushed hours earlier, their caravan overtaken by the band of mercenaries. You had fled with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your kingdom was in danger, and you couldn’t let them take its very pillar—you. If you fell into their hands, there would be no saving your father's throne.

A sharp whistle cut through the air. They were signaling each other, closing in on your position. You stumbled over a root but caught yourself just in time. You couldn’t afford a misstep now. You glanced around, eyes scanning for any place to hide, but the forest offered little shelter in the dead of night.

Your pulse raced as you heard footsteps gaining on you. Your lungs burned, and your legs felt heavy, but you forced yourself to push harder. You spotted a narrow path veering off to the left and quickly ducked into it, heart hammering with hope. The path was steep and led down toward a riverbank. If you could make it across, the rushing water might mask your trail.

But just as you descended, you heard a voice, much closer now. “Your Highness! Over here!” He called from the opposite side of the river. A man, presumably another knight of yours. His armor was nowhere on his body, only a sword remained by his hip.