Chapter 161

Ronan

The palace was never truly asleep.

Even in the hours between the last council wine and the first clang of the kitchen bells, there was always guards exchanging shifts, the scuff of boots along stone, the faint moans of a servant’s tryst through unseen cracks in the walls.

I’d walked these halls for years, and I knew their rhythm the way a wolf knew the cadence of a hunt.

Tonight, I was hunting for the weaknesses in it.

The guardhouse sat tucked into the west wing, warm from the fire in the hearth and smelling of leather oil and wet wool.

I leaned casually against the doorframe, nodding to the two men inside. One was bent over the rotation board, chalk in hand, the other unlacing his boots.

“Running smooth tonight?” I asked, keeping my tone easy, the way I would any other night.

The chalk paused for only a second before the man replied, “Smooth enough.” He stepped back, and I let my eyes drift over the board as if I was really interested.

But I took in every name, every gap, the times when certain corridors would be poorly covered, if at all.

A half hour after dawn: two rookies on the east wall.

Mid-afternoon: double post pulled for inspection duty, Royal Wing.

I made a show of rubbing my neck, muttering something about checking the east before turning away.

I took the long way to my quarters, winding through the quieter wings, ears tuned for the groan of a door hinge, the creak of a loose step. Every noise lodged itself in my memory alongside the routes that were ideal.

A guard nodded at me in passing. I returned it easily, keeping my expression neutral.

I couldn’t let a flicker of intent slip. Damon trusted me more than anyone, and yet every step I took tonight was one that broke his trust.

I told myself it wasn’t betrayal, at least not until I acted. But even thinking of the maps, the names, the windows of time I was collecting… I was already halfway to treason.

I passed near the Royal wing and slowed. Lila’s door was just ahead, flanked by two of Damon’s most loyal guards. They stiffened at my approach.

“She awake?” I asked.

One shook his head. “No, sir. Quiet since the last meal.”

I almost left it at that, but my gaze caught on the faint flicker under her door, the candlelight that meant she hadn’t slept at all.

My jaw tightened. She’d been shrinking before my eyes these past weeks. If Damon noticed, he wasn’t doing enough.

I moved on before they could question my pause, taking the back stairwell down into the lower levels. Down here, the air cooled and the stone sweated faintly, damp under my palm when I brushed the wall.

In the archives, I pulled a narrow drawer from the far wall and slid free a rolled schematic so old the edges crumbled under my fingers.

The parchment showed the palace as it had been two generations ago, before renovations closed certain halls and walled off servant passages no one bothered to reopen.

One such passage led from the under-kitchens, weaving through the lower foundations to a disused gate. It would be sealed now, yes—but not beyond my ability to open.

I traced the route with my fingertip, committing it to memory. My heart gave a single, hard thud.

If I did this… there’d be no undoing it. No explaining it away.

The image of Lila sitting in the garden alcove flickered through my mind: her shawl slipping from her shoulders, her hands trembling, her voice when she said she just wanted to feel free.

That was the moment I knew I couldn’t stand by.

I rolled the paper tight and slid it back into place, the old parchment whispering against the wood. My boots were silent on the return up the stairwell, but inside, my thoughts were loud enough to drown the palace’s heartbeat.

Whether Damon ever forgave me or not, I wasn’t going to stop.

Lila was waiting for me in the corner of the library.

Dust motes drifted lazily through a beam of moonlight spilling from the high, arched window. She sat in the shadows near the far wall, legs drawn up on the armchair like she needed to make herself smaller.

Her eyes lifted when I entered, and for a moment I could see the question there: Did you find a way? before she tucked it away, schooling her expression.

I closed the door quietly and moved to the desk, spreading out a folded scrap of parchment I’d hidden in my jacket.

“I’ve been looking at the guard rotations,” I said finally. “And the lower levels.”

Her gaze sharpened. “And?”

“And there’s a window. It’s small, but it’s there. Just after dawn, there’s a shift change on the east wall, and a skeleton post between your room and this exit. If we move then…”

Her fingers tightened on the blanket draped over her lap. “If we move then, I can leave?”

I hesitated, and it cost me. The light in her eyes faltered, that flicker of hope dimming.

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “The outer gate will still be locked, and the royal wing is sealed. But there’s an old passage that leads to a disused tunnel. It’s been walled off for years, but I can open it.”

“Can,” she repeated, almost disbelieving.

“I can,” I said again, firmer this time.

Her breath trembled on the way out. She leaned forward, the moonlight catching on the fine lines of exhaustion etched into her face. “Then do it. Whatever it takes, just…do it.”

I should have agreed right then. Should have promised her without hesitation. Instead, I heard myself say, “There’s more to it than that.”

She stiffened, drawing back. “What more could there be?”

I dragged a hand over my jaw. The next words tasted sour. “Even if you slip out, they’ll hunt for you. Damon will hunt for you. The only way to make them stop is if they believe you’re not out there to find.”

It took her a heartbeat to understand. Then her eyes widened, and her lips parted. “You’re saying…”

“They have to believe you’re dead.”

The silence between us turned dense, heavy with the weight of what I was asking her to consider. Her pulse fluttered visibly in her throat, but her gaze was fixed on me.

“Would it work?” she asked at last. Her voice was steady, but I could hear the tremor beneath it.

“Yes,” I said. “If I plan it right, if I control what’s seen, what’s reported…it would work. I could get you out, get you somewhere safe. They’d never come looking.”

Her brow furrowed, and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “And Damon?”

The question was soft, almost reluctant.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “He’d think you were gone. But… he’d stop keeping you here. You’d be free.”

She stared down at her knees for a long time, the moonlight glinting on the wetness of her eyes. Then she nodded once, a small, sharp motion.

“Then do it,” she said. “Please.”

It wasn’t the desperation in her voice that broke me, it was the please. The trust buried in that single word, offered to me when she had every reason not to trust anyone.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Lila… if we do this, there’s no going back. You won’t get to explain. You won’t get to see him again.”

Her mouth twisted as she said, “He’s already gone.”

I couldn’t disagree.

I let the quiet settle again, watching her draw the blanket closer around her thin frame, as if bracing against a wind neither of us could feel.

I reached out and laid my hand over hers. Not to steady her, but to steady myself.

“I’ll find the safest way,” I promised. “And when the time comes, you’ll walk out of here and never have to look back.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then her fingers curled slowly around mine, and she whispered, “Thank you.”

The words didn’t feel like thanks. They felt more like a noose I’d just tied around both our necks.