Before he could so much as blink, I was already turning back toward my chambers. "Thirty minutes. Change into something casual, blend in. Meet me here. The same goes for the rest of you."
The silence behind me was so thick I could taste their confusion. I smiled at it as I walked away.
…
My chamber was an insult to the very word simple.
I opened one wardrobe. Silks. Another. Jewels. Another. Brocade and lace spilling like molten fire. Not a single garment that did not scream queen.
"Pathetic," I muttered, irritated at my own past vanity.
Behind me, one of the waiting women cleared her throat timidly. "Perhaps… this one, Your Majesty?" she asked, lifting a gown far too glamourrous for what I needed.
I turned and stared at her. Not a word, just the weight of my gaze. Her hands shook, the dress slid from her grip, and she collapsed to her knees, babbling apologies.
"Forgive me, Majesty! I meant no offense! Please, spare me!"
I went still, half expecting the reaction, half mortified by it regardless.
I turned to the rest of the maids. "Leave us alone."
They all fled immediately, whispering to each other as they scurried out,
"poor girl, she won't last the hour."
"Guess it's her turn to die today."
The woman left behind trembled on the floor, waiting for her execution.
And for the first time in my life, maybe not exactly, but still, I felt something pinch sharp inside me. Not anger. Not amusement. Something thinner, sharper. Guilt. Was this what I had shaped them into, that even a glance meant death?
"Get up," I said, colder than I intended. She flinched but didn't move.
"I am not going to hurt you. I need your help."
Her eyes darted up, wet and wide. Slowly, awkwardly, she rose. My gaze flicked over her plain shift, rough wool, patched at the hem, utterly ordinary. Perfect.
…
When I emerged again, the knights waiting outside nearly forgot themselves.
I wore her dress beneath a heavy cloak, my hair bound in a knot, my feet in common leather shoes that pinched unbearably. Every stitch itched. Every seam scratched. The cloak hung like dead weight around me.
I hated it.
I loved it.
Caldus's mouth opened, then shut again. His men looked at me as though I'd sprouted horns.
"…Your Majesty?" he said finally.
I drew my hood lower, smirking at their disbelief. "What? Do I not look the part?"
"You look… nothing like yourself," he admitted.
"Good." I let the smile curve sharp. "That is the point."
Their stares lingered like gnats, clinging to me as if they could will me back into my silks and firestone crowns.
Caldus's jaw flexed as though words threatened to escape, but I raised a brow and he silenced himself.
"Well?" I asked, voice lazy. "Do I lead the way, or do you?"
That was all it took.
Within minutes they had horses prepared, though even the beasts seemed confused by my borrowed scent and scratchy cloak. I mounted easily, tugging the hood low over my face, and we rode through the wide, torch-lit corridors of the palace grounds.
The night air struck me first, sharp, clean, freeing. The wind tangled in my hair, tugging loose strands from their knot, and above us the sky stretched vast and endless, painted in ink. My fingers tightened on the reins. Would fleeing feel like this? Would the wind taste the same if I never came back?
The thought stung, but I let it sit with me until the gates loomed before us.
The guards, broad-shouldered men in bronze fire-crested armor, stepped forward, spears crossed.
"Halt. State your business."
Caldus rode forward. "We are escorting the Queen."
The spears did not move. "Do not mock us, Sir Caldus. The Queen of Solmire does not leave her palace dressed in rags."
Tension rippled down the line of my men. Caldus bristled. "Open the gate."
The guard sneered. "Not until, "
I sighed, tugging back my hood.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Then chaos, armor clattering as men dropped to their knees, foreheads pressed to the dirt, murmured prayers tripping over each other in a rush of fear. The one who had defied Caldus babbled apologies, his words spilling faster than his trembling lips could manage.
"Enough." My voice cut through his pleading like steel. "I am not interested in your whimpering. Open the gate."
They scrambled to obey, the iron doors groaning wide. We passed through like shadows, their bowed heads still in the dirt behind us.
The capital awaited.
By the time we reached its heart, the night market had already swallowed itself alive. Lanterns swayed overhead, painting the cobblestones in molten gold and deep crimson. Stalls spilled into the streets, packed shoulder to shoulder: peddlers hawking roasted meats and candied nuts, jewelers dangling fire-glass charms, children darting between legs with sticky fingers. The smell of spice and sweat and smoke clung to the air.
Music thrummed from some corner, pipes and drums that beat like a second pulse. Fire-dancers leapt and spun, flames licking their painted skin. Above it all, banners for Pyrosanct flapped high, stitched with the dragon sigil of Solmire.
We dismounted at the edge, blending our horses into the press of beasts and wagons. On foot, the noise grew deafening.
I tugged my hood lower and let the current of the market sweep me forward. My men shadowed me in their awkward disguises until I stopped and turned on them.
"Remember why we're here," I said softly, my voice hidden in the swell of noise. "The woman Caldus mentioned. Keep your eyes sharp."
Caldus stepped closer. "She changes her face often, hair, eyes, even her gait. But there's one thing she never parts with: a necklace. A shell, green as sea glass."
"That will do," I said. "Scatter. One hour, and we regroup."
"Aye, Your... "
I cut him off with a raised finger. "Not here. Not like that. Disguises, remember?"
Their spines stiffened. No bows, no salutes, just stiff nods before they melted into the crowd. All but Caldus, who stayed planted at my side like a shadow.
We began weaving through the stalls. At first, I walked half-heartedly, telling myself it was theater, the same way I told myself every day was theater. These lights, these colors, the laughter and haggling, it was all ink on a page, wasn't it?