11

"Stay out!" Aurelia Delensar screamed, her voice trembling like a dying sparrow's cry. To her, being taken back by Queen Isolde to marry the brutal Lycan chieftain was nothing short of a death sentence. The young princess couldn't fathom how the Silver Knights had found her. She had fled so far, so carefully.

Outside the door, a knight's voice, smooth and polished, rang out. "Your Highness, rest assured, we will wait until you've finished your ablutions. Your safety is our utmost priority. I am Sir Charles Farman, First Honor Guard of the Royal Vanguard. You may call me Charlie."

He introduced himself with practiced courtesy, aiming to soothe the frightened princess. But Aurelia found no comfort in his honeyed words. Her attention snagged on one detail—"we." There was more than one knight outside.

Her face paled. Could her burly protector, Caelum Valtaris, single-handedly take on the palace's most elite knights? She wouldn't go back. Never.

Aurelia slipped out of the bathtub, silent as a shadow. There was no time to rinse off the milk and petals clinging to her skin, leaving faint, milky trails. Her golden hair, wet and tangled, clung to her back, a few strands even wrapping around her thighs. Barefoot, she stepped onto the plush carpet, milk droplets silently falling from her slender ankles.

She glanced at the gown hanging by the door but hesitated. Instead, she wrapped a towel hastily around her chest. The short towel left her legs exposed, but she couldn't afford to make noise. Tiptoeing to the window, she peered through the crack—

Two rows of Silver Knights had cordoned off the entire street. The sunlight glinted off their polished armor, blinding her. Despair washed over her. There was no escape.

Aurelia bit her lip hard until the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth. It calmed her. She raised her voice, cool and composed. "I need two maids to help me dress."

Stall. The knights wouldn't have maids; they'd have to find locals. She'd buy time until Caelum returned. When the chaos erupted, she'd slip away. He'd hold them off.

But Queen Isolde had thought of everything. Even the maids were prepared.

"Shall I send them in now?" Charles asked.

"No," Aurelia replied quickly. "I'll soak a little longer. I'll call when I'm ready." She tossed a handful of candies into the tub, creating a splash to mask her movements.

Charles fell silent, confident in his trap. He'd made arrangements in the market to delay Caelum. By the time the golden knight returned, Aurelia would be gone.

Meanwhile, a group of children darted through the streets, playing a game of heroes and monsters. One boy, turning a corner, collided with a solid wall of silver armor.

"Hey!" he yelped, looking up at the towering figures. Their faces were hidden beneath helmets, their presence more imposing than statues. The boy froze, his colorful candies scattering across the ground.

"Detour," a cold voice commanded. The knight's sword, still sheathed, was enough to send the children fleeing.

But the boy, stubborn, returned to pick up his candies. The knights, seeing him as harmless, let him be. As he crouched, he glanced up—and caught sight of the golden-haired girl on the balcony.

She was trapped, her ruby eyes filled with sorrow.

The boy's heart raced. He turned and bolted, leaving the candies behind. His friend called after him, "Carl, what about your sweets?"

"The angel's been captured by monsters!" Carl shouted. "I'm going to find the hero to save her!"

Back in the room, Charles knocked again, his voice tinged with impatience. "Your Highness, do you require assistance?"

Time was running out. He didn't want to face Caelum directly. If Aurelia kept stalling, he might have to resort to force. The wise Queen Isolde would understand.

Aurelia, desperate, played her last card. "I'm not dressed! If you dare enter, I'll have my father behead every one of you!"

Charles relented. "Ten more minutes, then."

She didn't respond. She knew she couldn't stall much longer. If Charles forced his way in, she'd be humiliated.

Biting her lip, she reopened the wound. The pain made her wince but also sparked a strange courage. She'd spotted a narrow gap between the window and the roof—just wide enough for her to squeeze through.

The knights below weren't allowed to look up. If she moved quietly, she could escape.

She took a deep breath, tightened the towel around her, and climbed onto the windowsill like a nimble cat. She pushed the window wider.

Creak.

The loud sound froze her in place.

"Your Highness!" Charles barked, his patience snapping. He twisted the doorknob, his silver-clad figure already halfway through the door.

Aurelia knelt on the sill, one hand clutching the towel, the other futilely pushing the window. Her legs dangled helplessly. She was a caged songbird, silently mourning her fate.

Tears welled in her eyes.

Then—

A warm hand covered her vision. A familiar voice, low and steady, carried on the wind.

"Don't cry, Aurelia."