VALERIA

It’s not like I have much to pack.

On the bed, I make a small bundle with a few old clothes you’ve donated to me and, most importantly, the money the King gave me.

That’s all I have to survive.

Shielded by the night and the darkness, I wander through the corridors, glancing around fearfully, clearly intending to escape.

I reach the kitchen and search for the back door—obviously, I won’t risk leaving through the main entrance.

When I glance at the counter where the King’s meals are served, a surge of anger rises in my chest.

Why would they do something like this?

Who could be so cruel as to send an innocent woman to certain death?

The maid who helped the one who cut her hand is my main suspect—the one who had the opportunity while I was distracted.

Perhaps both of them are working together.

I step out into the inner courtyard and run toward the gate where the carts with supplies and goods enter.

The forest welcomes me—dark and menacing. It’s frightening, and I have no idea wher