The night was dense with the scent of damp soil and rain-soaked stone as Philippa hurried quickly through the palace's quiet hallways. After the storm was over, a dense fog clung to the castle walls and swirled across the courtyards. As she made her way through the servants' passage, she pulled the hood attached to her dark cloak over her head, the heavy fabric shielding her from the cold.
She easily slipped past the soldiers' watchful attention, her movements smooth against the slick, uneven terrain. She pushed past the palace's massive wooden doors, which creaked faintly as she exited into the night outside the castle walls.
The rain had turned the dirt roads into muddy rivers, and it was dark outside. Despite the frost in her bones, she continued wearing her cloak, even though the hem was already heavy. At this hour, the streets were almost deserted, with only a few beggars and a lone watchman making rounds.
