Katherine had hoped the guards and servants would ignore her presence, mistaking her for a maid on some mundane errand. Indeed, she passed unchallenged through the torchlit corridors toward the north wing, where the Prince now resided. Yet, standing before the tall double doors that led to his chambers, her earlier resolve seemed to seep away like melting snow.

Her hand hovered over the wrought-iron door handle. Not long ago, these staterooms had been her father's. Then, after his death, they'd been claimed by the Baron of Caradja—until the Prince arrived and the Baron, ever dutiful, vacated his lodgings for his royal guest. Now she was about to enter uninvited, hoping the Prince might hear her plea rather than punish her audacity.

God be with me, she thought, her heart hammering. She curled trembling fingers around the handle and began to push the door open. But before she could step through, someone yanked it away from her grasp.

She spun—and froze at the sight of Dorin, the Baron's son. His eyes were glassy with drink, and his breath reeked of wine.

"Forgive me, my lord," she managed, offering a quick bow. "I didn't see you. I must attend Lady Maria—"

He seized her wrist, halting her. "I haven't granted you leave," he snarled. "Why are you skulking around the Prince's quarters?"

"Please, my lord," she said, voice shaking. "Lady Maria needs me. I must not keep her waiting—"

"I asked you a question," he snapped. "Answer your master."

Fear cinched her throat. Dorin surely guessed her true intention. In desperation, she tried to pull away, hoping his drunken reflexes might grant her an escape. But he was far too swift. Locking a hand around her arm, he dragged her down a side corridor. He shoved open a narrow door, hauling her into a servant's stairwell that smelled of smoke and stale rushes. The door slammed behind them, and the sudden gust caused the torches to flare wildly, casting writhing shadows across Dorin's face.

"It's time you learned your place, Katherine," he murmured. He yanked her closer, crushing his mouth to hers in a brutal kiss.

She recoiled in disgust, raising her hand to strike him. He caught her wrist midair, holding it fast. For an instant, his fury blazed in his eyes. Then he backhanded her, sending her stumbling against the stone wall. Her temple collided with a hard jolt; darkness flickered at the edges of her vision.

Dazed, she felt him press her into the wall, each hand braced on either side of her head. Summoning what strength remained, she tried to shove him away, but he overpowered her easily, forcing her back against the rough masonry.

"Please," she gasped. "Let me go."

A cruel smirk curved his lips. He leaned in until his breath was hot against her ear. "I'll let you go," he whispered. "But not before I teach you a lesson you won't forget."

She shuddered, feeling his mouth brush her neck. "You can't...you can't do this."

"You are nothing now," he said mockingly. "A slave, a bond servant to my father. You belong to us—to me." His hand crawled up her bodice, pausing just long enough for her to feel the full weight of his intent. Then, with a single yank, he tore the fabric open.

A broken sob escaped her. He lifted her bodily, pinning her close to a crackling torch. She twisted away, the stinging heat licking at her hair, while his hand clamped around her throat to keep her still. A singe of burning strands filled her nostrils.

Then his other hand slipped beneath her skirt.

Something inside her snapped. She lunged for the torch overhead, ripping it from its iron holder before Dorin could react. His eyes went wide, and he reached for her wrist. But it was too late.

Acting on blind desperation, she thrust the burning torch into his face.

His scream ripped through the stairwell—an agonized, high-pitched shriek that devolved into a savage roar. The torch clattered to the floor as she reeled back, staring at the terrible sight. Dorin knelt, clutching his seared face, his right eye clouded and unseeing, flesh blistered where the flame had struck.

Horrified, Katherine staggered out the stairwell door and burst into the adjoining corridor. It was empty, dark. She pressed herself against the cool stone, struggling to quell the rising nausea.

Heart pounding, she fled—down a twisting set of stairs into the kitchens. Servants gaped as she dashed past them, but she didn't stop. She careened through storage rooms until she burst into the courtyard, gulping in the icy night air.

Her stomach clenched, and she fell to her knees, retching into the snow. What have I done? She forced her gaze up. Lights flickered across the castle windows. She could hear distant shouts. They were already searching for her, fanning out to drag her back for punishment.

Her gaze flicked to the ancient coat of arms etched on the fortress façade: the lilies and roses of Bogdan-Mușat, and beneath them, the words Audaces juvat—Fortune favors the bold.

She whispered the motto. A fierce resolve overcame her trembling. I can't let them take me.

Scrambling to her feet, she lurked at the courtyard's edge, slipping unnoticed under the shadow of the archway to the outer bailey. There, the old watchtower loomed. If I can reach the battlements, maybe I can climb down...

She skirted along the north wall, breath steaming in the chill, until she found the tower's crooked door. It yielded to her touch without a sound. Brushing aside cobwebs, she entered the pitch-black stairwell and groped her way upward, step by step, until she emerged onto a deserted turret high above the courtyard.

A biting wind whipped her hair around her face as she searched the rough stone parapet. Below, an ancient tree clung to the rocky base of the wall, a few gnarled branches reaching over the edge. Please, just don't break.

Steeling herself, she leaned over the wall and caught hold of the nearest branch. Carefully, she shifted onto it, only to hear the sickening crack as the wood snapped beneath her. She fell, stifling a cry, and landed with a bone-jarring thud in the bushes below. The thick snow cushioned her just enough to spare her any crippling injury.

She lay still, listening for alarm. No cry went up; the walls remained silent. Slowly, she struggled to her feet and brushed off the snow. Then, with a final glance at the citadel—her home, now forever lost—she fled across the moonlit fields. The wind and fresh drifts soon obliterated her tracks, though not quickly enough to calm her racing heart.

By the time she reached the shelter of the forest, she could barely feel her hands or feet. Snow and frost clung to her shredded bodice, and each breath rasped in her lungs. As she moved deeper among the silent trees, an owl hooted from a branch overhead. It regarded her briefly, then dismissed her as inconsequential before refocusing on its nocturnal hunt.

A faint snap of a twig jolted Katherine from her daze. Ahead, a startled deer bolted into the darkness. She waited, heart pounding—and then she heard it: distant voices, the baying of hounds, the clink of harnesses. They were on her trail.

She forced down her panic, and ran on into the night.