It had taken less than two days for the Obsidian Guard to find her.

Namina tore through the forest with only the barest traces of moonlight lighting her way. The feathered cloak around her shoulders – laced with an ancient magic that silenced her steps – did little to protect against the evening chill. The late summer sun had given way to a mighty cold that set her teeth to chattering.

While her own movements were silent, her pursuers were not. Shouts echoed through the trees, spurring her ever forward. They were on her heels now, like hounds on a rabbit chase. They didn’t know her exact location, but they knew she was here. It was only a matter of time before-

No.

Namina pushed the thought away, clutching the strap of her pack tighter. She would not dwell on what would happen if they caught her. If they dragged her back.

Namina scanned the forest with desperate abandon.

Her oversized boot caught on a root, sending her careening forward into a nearby tree. She slammed into the trunk, the bark stinging her palms as her knees buckled. Every muscle in her body shook with the effort to not just collapse right on the spot, but she would never go back.

Namina could ignore the stitch in her side a little longer. Her aching feet would keep propelling her forward, she could do this.

She pushed off the tree and stumbled forward.

How far was the river supposed to be from here? One mile? Two? She knew she was close, but she had lost all sense of direction in the chase. If she could just make it to the river, she could hide. The dogs would lose her scent, and the men would lose their strength of pursuit.

The galloping of hooves resonated closer.

Only a little further. She would make it. She had to make it.

Like a gift from the gods themselves, the night sky began to open before her, the trees and foliage thinning out. A garbled, triumphant cry escaped her lips as she reached the forest’s edge, only to die once she saw what lay ahead.

The ground dropped away into nothingness.

No. No, this isn’t right!

Where the flat bank of the Metanoia River should have greeted her, there was open air. The river lay fifty feet or so below – a snaking mirror echoing the starlight, mocking her. Namina’s boots slapped the ground a little too hard with her last few steps. She collapsed onto sore knees, clutching at her chest and trying her best not to retch. Her whole body shook as she looked around for any possible way down, but nothing caught her eye.

The next stretch of forest was in sight, just beyond reach. Just a leap of faith away. But would she survive?

Even if she didn’t, it still might be worth the jump.

Branches snapped from behind, and she turned, climbing to her feet in an awkward scramble.

From the darkness of the forest, two guards on horseback manifested as if from a nightmare. Their approach slowed once they realized she was a cornered hare. Easy prey to please their master. A prize worth what she was sure to be a great reward.

“There you are.” One of the men called as they both dismounted. The words were callous but calm.

“Nowhere left to run, Princess.” She could not be sure which guard had spoken. One of the guards stepped forward, holding out his hand as if to pull her to safety. The other reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a pair of shackles.

Each man’s actions were at such odds with one another.

The guard reaching out took another step forward, a smile stretching his lips. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if we have to.”

Her resolve solidified into something deep and visceral.

“Go to hell.”  

Namina turned, and with only a moment’s hesitation and a prayer to the All-Mother, stepped into the open air and let herself fall.

ONE WEEK BEFORE

Princess Namina Kalea Isadora Dorne stood on the parapet beside High Advisor Daroth Vithkar, her uncle’s gilded crown encircling his brow. He was king incarnate, dressed so finely in the Irisidean royal colors of black and gold. Her own matching dress – one that Daroth had surely picked out himself – was backless with long pointed sleeves. Her long brown hair had been deftly braided over one shoulder and her diadem rested heavy on her brow. Kohl rimmed her eyes, making the gray of her irises stand out.

The gray of a tainted soul.

"People of Irisidea, we come together at this time of mourning to celebrate the lost lives of our beloved King and his adored brother, King Signor Dorne and High Prince Karthon Dorne. May they both receive rest in the eternal hands of the All-Mother and her chosen nine. Many of you-"

Namina tuned out his deceitful words and began studying the crowd.

The handfuls of servants, courtiers, and courtesans she had known all her life were intermingled among hordes of complete strangers from all backgrounds and ranks, all who had been cordially invited into the gates of the inner palace for the bereavement speech.

A small group off to the left caught her eye, their bright purple cloaks shimmering in the bright morning light. The leaders of the local Mage’s Guild.

While magic was a coveted thing throughout the four kingdoms, Irisidea included, it did not mean one who possessed the skill would be praised or compensated for it outright.

Some with magic, like herself, were lucky enough to be born into situations of comfort. Then there were those who had used their talents, magical and otherwise, to climb the ladder of society and find a more secure position in life. A few such mages could be found throughout the ranks of the court, but none so powerful as the one who now stood at her side. She had not even had any clue of how great his power was until she had become the target of it.

Daroth continued his rhetoric, explaining to the people — while she stood by his side ever so obediently — that the King had laid grounds for the kingdom to be left in the hands of the High Advisor until the Council of Advisors could convene and decide the fate of the kingdom together.

As the Council of Advisors had been dissolved several months prior and the seven roles combined into one position, it now fell on his shoulders to lead the kingdom in its stead.

Her own birthright as niece of the King – the only living heir – had once signified that she would be next in line as sovereign, but through a deceitful twist of fate and some well-placed rumors as to the state of her sanity, it now only meant that she was to be Queen Consort to whoever was chosen as Irisidea’s next leader. As their relationship was no secret, it seemed a cruel kismet. Placing the rightful heir on the throne along with the High Advisor was a sure way of appeasing all sides. The royal line would continue, but the people now would have governance from one of their own.

While wonderful in theory, the reality of the situation was much darker.

Daroth may not have come from noble blood, but he could scheme and swindle with the best of them. His charismatic nature hid a darkness far beyond what most nobility possessed. Namina could not understand how the people could not see the deception before their eyes. He had planned all of this.

They were about to crown a monster.

As Daroth spoke, he squeezed her hand. To the people it would look as if they were united in a time of tragedy. They certainly looked the part, regally matched as they were. What they could not see was the tightness of the grip that caused Namina to flinch in pain and her knuckles to whiten. The cat and mouse game had long ago ended, but that would never stop Daroth from gloating. She winced as his renewed grip brought her focus back to the speech and away from her treacherous thoughts.

"-an outright act of war. We are investigating the murder as we speak and if Gallen is responsible, we will have our revenge," he continued.

It was the absurd rhetoric he had made her write for him. She hadn't wanted to put the blame of her family's death on the kingdom of Gallen, but blame had to lie somewhere to cast wary eyes away from the truth.

 It wouldn't have been unbelievable for such a thing to have happened anyway. The strife between the two kingdoms was mounting each day and the temporary peace treaty signed nearly twenty-five years ago was nearing its end.

If only these precious people knew it was their princess’s fault their King was dead. This would be an execution, not a celebration of an impending wedding and coronation.

Namina didn't know which outcome would’ve ultimately been worse. Either way, her life was no longer her own.

“We ask you to fear not, dear citizens. I, the High Advisor Daroth, and your beloved Princess Namina will always rule in fairness and goodness. To show our goodwill, we shall be hosting a ball in celebration of a new age open to all here in the great city of Renor, with the wedding and coronation to follow the morning after. Then will come the day when we will root out all unspeakable evil and give Irisidea the prosperity its people have long deserved."

As Daroth finished speaking, he turned to her and cupped her chin before leaning in for a chaste kiss on the lips. She complied, of course.

All part of the act.

"And I cannot wait for that day.” he whispered so only she could hear. It was a mocking, dark whisper. His nails dug into her jaw ever so slightly.

The crowd of courtiers, mages, and peasants alike exploded into cheers and manifestations of gratitude. While only a few hundred were present for the announcement here, the rest of their people would receive it through the messengers that would carry the word throughout their small country. Soon, everyone would know about next week's celebrations.

One week.

Her stomach twisted.

Namina met Daroth's eyes, the glint of triumph in their ice blue depths. He kissed her hand and smiled. Something ignited in the ashes of her soul.

This wasn’t over just yet.

“Careful, Advisor. You're simpering. You wouldn't want to go and give yourself away." She laced the words with as much venom as she could muster while smiling at the crowd.

They waved, a perfect picture of unity. Deceitful, ugly unity.

Daroth chuckled at her words.

"And you wouldn't want to anger your future husband, would you?” His voice lowered. “Come now, little bird. Let’s not keep our other guests waiting."

His gloved fingers traced her spine, the leather brushing her bare back and sending shivers through her body. She stared at him with a quiet fury, then stepped away from his touch. Daroth only laughed as he grasped her upper arm and led her back into the shadows of the prison she had once called home.