Chapter 81
Celestina’s hands trembled as she folded a simple dress and tucked it into her small bag. The room was silent except for the faint sound of her steady breathing. She had to move quickly, quietly—any noise could draw unwanted attention.
Her fingers brushed the edge of a framed photo on her nightstand. It was of her and her father, taken years ago, when life was simpler. She hesitated, the urge to pack it overwhelming.
No, she told herself firmly, pulling her hand away. She couldn’t afford to be sentimental. Sentimentality would slow her down.
Instead, she packed only the essentials: a change of clothes, a pair of sturdy shoes, and a small pouch of jewelry she could sell if necessary. The rest she left behind—memories, possessions, her entire life.
When her bag was zipped, she stood still for a moment, her chest tight. Am I doing the right thing? The question lingered, but there was no time for doubt. Dimitri’s warning had been clear: she had to leave tonight.
The palace was eerily quiet at midnight. Celestina slipped into the darkened hallway, her footsteps soundless against the plush carpet. She made her way to the servant’s entrance, avoiding the areas where guards usually patrolled.
Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. Her pulse quickened as she neared the exit, her eyes darting to every shadow.
The heavy wooden door loomed ahead, barely visible in the dim light. She placed her hand on the cold handle and hesitated, listening for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped into the cool night air. The weight of the palace lifted from her shoulders, but only slightly. The hardest part was yet to come.
The streets were empty, the lamps casting long, flickering shadows. Celestina pulled her hood tighter around her face and quickened her pace, the small bag slung over her shoulder.
The air was heavy, each breath feeling more labored than the last. She tried to calm her racing heart, but the silence around her only made her anxiety grow.
Halfway down the street, she stopped abruptly, her instincts prickling. She turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder.
Movement.
In the corner of her eye, she saw something—or someone—lurking in the shadows.
Her chest tightened. It’s just your imagination, she told herself, forcing her legs to move again. But the sensation didn’t go away.
She quickened her pace, her footsteps echoing louder against the empty streets. The feeling of being watched grew stronger.
Suddenly, a faint rustling sound came from behind her.
She spun around, her breath caught in her throat. The street was empty.
“Who’s there?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
No answer.
The silence pressed in on her, suffocating. She turned and walked faster, her pulse pounding in her ears.
After several blocks, Celestina ducked into a narrow alleyway, her back pressed against the cold brick wall. She pulled out her phone with shaky hands and texted Dimitri:
I’m on my way. Someone might be following me.
Her eyes scanned the alley as she waited for his response. The faint glow of her phone screen felt like a beacon, and she turned it off quickly.
A moment later, it buzzed in her hand.
Stay calm. Change your route. I’m waiting at the docks.
Taking a deep breath, she shoved the phone back into her pocket and adjusted her bag. She needed to stay ahead of whoever was behind her.
Celestina emerged from the alley and made a sharp turn down a side street. She avoided the main roads, weaving through narrow passageways and crossing small plazas. With every step, she tried to shake the feeling of being hunted.
But no matter how many times she changed direction, the sensation of being followed didn’t leave her.
Finally, the salty scent of the sea reached her nose. She could see the faint glow of the docks in the distance, the silhouette of a large yacht illuminated by the moonlight.
Relief surged through her as she hurried toward the water, her steps quick but cautious.
Then she froze.
A figure stood near the edge of the docks, partially hidden in the shadows.
Celestina’s blood ran cold as she took a step back, her heart hammering. The outline was unmistakable—broad shoulders, a confident stance.
It was Kael.
