Chapter 146
Chapter 146
The days after our decision passed in quiet secrecy.
Francesco and I spoke of it only in the safety of our chambers, never once letting the idea slip in front of others. The kingdom bustled as always, unaware that its King Alpha and tuna were quietly preparing to step away from the throne.
Francesco handled it with a kind of calculated patience I had rarely seen in him.
Every document he signed, every order he gave, every warrior he trained–it was as though he was tying up the last threads of a tapestry he’d been weaving for years.
I did my part, too. I met with healers, artists, and educators, making sure my own projects were left in steady hands.
But the most important part wasn’t the work.
It was the goodbyes we couldn’t openly say.
Some nights I’d walk the balcony, looking down at the city lights, wondering how many of them would notice our absence.
Would they see it as a betrayal?
Or would they feel, deep down, that this was the right choice?
That maybe, with us gone, the weight of fear from other kingdoms would finally lift.
Francesco seemed to sense those thoughts even when I didn’t voice them.
“They’ll be fine, mia luna,” he’d say, wrapping an arm around me from behind. “They don’t need us to stand over them forever. The mark we leave is already here.”
Still, there was one last thing to do–the handover.
We decided Beta Alfonso was the one who should take the title. He had, in truth, been running the day–to–day matters for months while I was unconscious, and even before that, he was the one Francesco trusted most.
The problem was, telling him directly would mean questions, arguments, and a hundred attempts to convince us to stay. So we agreed: no announcement. Only letters.
The night before we were to leave, Francesco sat at his desk in the King Alpha’s office, pen scratching across parchment with deliberate strokes.
I sat opposite him, writing my own–one to Monica, one to Audrey and one to Lira. The words didn’t come easily; every sentence felt like closing a door behind me.
When we finished, we sealed each with wax–the royal crest for Alfonso’s, a simpler seal for the others. Francesco placed his on the center of the desk, where Alfonso couldn’t miss it. I slid mine into Monica’s, Audrey’s and Lira’s quarters, where they’d find them in the morning.”
The night before we left, the palace seemed unusually quiet.
No meetings dragged late into the evening, no warrior drills echoed in the courtyards, and even the wind that usually rattled the balcony doors was still.
It felt as though the kingdom itself was holding its breath–waiting, listening, sensing what we had not spoken aloud.
Francesco worked at his desk in the King Alpha’s chamber, the warm glow of candlelight catching the sharp line of his jaw as he wrote.
His hand was steady, but I could feel the weight in his shoulders. Every stroke of his pen was final; every pause meant he was choosing his words with
care.
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Chapter 146
“Are you ready, mia luna?” he asked softly..
“No,” I whispered, then managed a small smile. “But I think that’s how I know it’s time.”
We didn’t take much with us. A few clothes, keepsakes that meant something to us personally rather than politically, and my worn sketchbook. Francesco carried only one weapon–his favored blade–strapped to his back. Not as a king’s ornament, but as a man’s safeguard.
Just before dawn, we walked the silent corridors for the last time. The palace guards were stationed as always, but they didn’t question us; no one questioned the Alpha moving with such purpose. Out through the gates we went, our footsteps muffled by the mist still clinging to the stones. The city beyond was quiet, its lights dimming in the pale touch of morning.
Francesco didn’t look back. I did. Just once.
The palace rose above the city, its towers piercing the dawn. It had been both a cage and a sanctuary.
And now, it was neither.
The farther we walked, the lighter my steps felt.
The road was damp with dew, the earth soft from the night’s chill. Francesco didn’t let go of my hand, not even when the trees–thickened around us.
For a while, we didn’t speak. It wasn’t awkward silence – it was the kind that felt sacred, as if the wrong word could shatter the fragile spell of our
escape.
Somewhere in the distance, a bird called, its voice high and clear. It sounded like morning had already claimed the forest, but here in the shadowed path, we still belonged to the night.
I tightened my grip on my bag’s strap. “Do you think they’ll notice before midday?” I asked quietly.
His eyes flicked toward me, then back to the path. “They’ll notice when Audrey does. She’s the only one who looks for you at dawn.”
I felt a pang in my chest. Audrey. I pictured her finding my letter – that brief moment where she’d think I was just out for a walk, before the words hit her. I hoped she’d understand.
Francesco slowed as we reached a fork in the path. To the right, the road sloped toward the river. To the left, it wound into the hills. Without hesitation,
he took the left.
“Why not the river?” I asked.
“Too many eyes at this hour,” he replied. “Fishermen. Traders. People who talk.”
I tried to match his stride, though my legs ached from the pace we’d kept since leaving. He noticed enough to let me breathe.
he always noticed – and eased his steps, just
The air here smelled of pine and damp earth. A layer of mist clung low to the ground, swirling around our boots as we walked. Every now and then, the wind carried a faint scent of smoke – someone’s hearth fire waking for the day.
“Once we reach the ridge,” Francesco said, “we’ll be able to see the valley road. That’s where we meet the horses.”
I glanced up at him. “And after that?”
His jaw tightened slightly, but his voice was steady. “After that… no one follows unless they’re willing to bleed for it.”
I knew what he meant – not just speed, but the kind of terrain that would strip the strength from anyone unprepared. And Francesco had planned every
step.
We walked on, the light growing brighter behind us.
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Chapter 1461
I didn’t dare look back now.
By the time we crossed the border, my feet felt like lead.
The forest had thinned hours ago, giving way to rolling fields and the occasional farmhouse, but my senses stayed sharp.
Every creak of a wagon wheel, every shout in the distance made my pulse jump.
Francesco’s grip on my hand was steady, grounding me. “Almost there,” he said softly, though his gaze was fixed ahead.
The city rose out of the landscape slowly–first the tiled roofs, then the pale stone walls streaked with age.
Morning sunlight spilled over everything, making it look warmer than it felt. The gates stood open, guarded by two men who barely glanced at us as we passed.
It was strange, stepping inside.
The air here carried a different rhythm – less tension, more bustle. The streets were alive with vendors setting up stalls, their tables piled with fruit, bread, bolts of bright fabric. Children darted between carts, laughing, their bare feet kicking up dust.
I pulled my hood a little lower.
No one here knew me.
No one whispered my name or looked at me with the weight of expectation in their eyes.
The thought was so foreign, I almost stumbled.
Francesco steered us down a quieter side street, toward a modest inn tucked between a bakery and a shop selling painted ceramics.
The sign above the door swung gently in the breeze, creaking on its chain.
Inside, the air smelled of fresh bread and woodsmoke.
A woman behind the counter greeted us with a polite smile, her eyes lingering on Francesco for a moment – and then flicking to me with a softer curiosity.
“Two rooms?” she asked.
Francesco shook his head. “One.” His tone left no room for negotiation.
I didn’t speak until we were upstairs, the door shut behind us.
The room was simple – a bed, a wooden table, a small window overlooking the street. I dropped my bag on the floor, stretching my sore shoulders.
“We made it,” I said, almost in disbelief.
Francesco’s eyes softened, but he didn’t answer right away.
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “We did. And no one will take this time from us.”
For the first time since we’d left, I let myself breathe.
