Chapter 174: Come With Me
Rhaegar clutched the stolen knife tightly in his trembling hand, his knuckles pale against the blade’s hilt. The cool night air bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heavy weight of regret pressing down on him. Every step he took through the royal palace’s shadowed grounds felt like dragging an anchor.
Pausing to catch his breath, he turned and glanced back, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings.
The slave quarters weren’t far from the main palace. Their proximity to the grandeur of royalty made no sense to him, but it had proven useful for navigation. The layout of the land was straightforward, almost as if it had been designed to be easily memorized.
Why would they do that? Rhaegar wondered, his brows furrowed. Whoever had planned this arrangement had to have had a reason—a sinister one, no doubt.
No. Focus. This isn’t the time for useless thoughts.
Shaking his head, Rhaegar pressed on, his feet moving swiftly but silently. His instincts pulled him toward the garden next to one of the annexed buildings. The air here was different—fresher, less suffocating—and the soft spring grass beneath his feet felt like a brief reprieve from the unrelenting tension in his body.
Collapsing onto the grass, he allowed himself a fleeting moment of rest. The exhaustion in his limbs warred with the exhilaration buzzing in his chest. It was almost surreal—this mix of fear, hope, and dread. In just one night, he felt as though he had aged years.
But his reprieve was short-lived.
A faint rustle broke the stillness, the sound barely louder than a whisper. It was enough. Rhaegar’s senses flared, his body snapping to attention like a bowstring drawn taut.