Turns out, there's something deeply humbling about jogging through the forest in borrowed pants while being hunted by armed men. Every rustling branch became a sword, every owl hoot a death omen.
Alessio moved with quiet efficiency, guiding us up a narrow trail that wound between ancient pines and mossy rocks. I tried to keep pace, but let's be real—I was three twigs and a sneeze away from passing out.
"How much further?" I panted.
"Just over that ridge," he said, not even out of breath. "We're close."
"Define close. Is it the hopeful kind or the 'just a few more years of war' kind?"
He gave me a look. "Close as in—we'll be safe. If she lets us in."
"Oh good. Nothing like the comfort of conditional shelter."
We crested the ridge, and there it was: a crooked little cottage nestled in a grove of silver-leafed trees, windows glowing faintly with warm candlelight.
It looked like the kind of place where storybook witches handed out cursed apples and life advice.
"She's expecting us?" I asked.
"No."
"…Should I have brought a gift? Like a pie? Or a severed guard helmet?"
Alessio didn't smile this time. "She doesn't like visitors. But she'll help. She has to."
I followed him down the slope, trying not to trip over my own feet—or nerves.
He rapped on the wooden door twice, then once more. A secret knock, maybe.
For a long moment, nothing.
Then—
Creeeaak.
The door opened a sliver, and a wrinkled face peeked out, all lines and sharp eyes and immediate judgment.
Her voice was low, but firm. "You look like a half-dead squirrel. Who's the girl?"
"Evening to you too, Grandmama," Alessio said dryly. "This is Sonia. She's the reason Marius will be knocking down our door by morning."
"Fantastic," she muttered. Then she turned those hawk-like eyes on me. "You're the one he kept chained up like a bird in a cage?"
I hesitated. "Technically yes, but I prefer the term 'non-consensual houseguest.'"
Her expression didn't change. "You talk too much."
"And yet I keep being allowed to live. It's a mystery."
She snorted. "At least you've got spine. Come in before you draw the whole patrol to my door."
We ducked inside, and warmth wrapped around me like a blanket. The cottage was small, cluttered, and smelled like herbs and something savory simmering over the fire.
Weapons hung above the hearth like casual decorations. A crossbow leaned next to a broom. I immediately felt safer.
"Sit," she ordered, pointing to a padded bench. "Don't bleed on anything."
"I'm not bleeding," I said, sitting anyway.
"Give it time."
Alessio stood near the fire. "We need to stay the night. We'll leave at first light."
"I figured as much," she said, tossing a log onto the flames. "And the plan after that?"
"We go east. I have someone in Mellerfen who can help get her out of Aurenfeld."
My head snapped up. "Wait—leave the empire?"
He nodded. "You're not safe here. As long as Marius holds power, you'll always be a target."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"But... that's running. I'm not just some damsel who needs smuggling out like contraband lingerie!"
"Would you prefer execution?" the old woman asked, not unkindly. "Because that's the other option."
I slumped. "Fine. I'll be the contraband lingerie."
Grandmama reached for a jar on the shelf and began mixing a poultice. "She's going to need new papers, a new name, and a lot more sense if she plans to survive outside these woods."
"Working on it," I muttered.
She turned to Alessio. "And you? What's the plan for you, Your Highness?"
I blinked. "Wait—you knew?!"
She rolled her eyes. "Boy thinks I raised him with a sack over my head."
Alessio didn't look fazed. "I stay. Once Sonia's safe, I'll return and gather evidence. I'll expose Marius for what he is."
Grandmama grunted. "You'll need more than good intentions and cheekbones."
"I've got a few friends left. And Clara. She's still inside the estate."
I sat up straighter. "Clara—she's in danger, isn't she?"
He nodded grimly. "If Marius finds out she helped me..."
"Then we save her too," I said.
They both looked at me.
"What?" I asked. "I may be sarcastic and underqualified, but I'm not leaving her behind. She's a teenage maid, not a disposable NPC."
Alessio smiled faintly. "You're really not the same Sonia."
"Nope. I'm the reboot. Slightly louder. Slightly angrier. 300% more likely to throw a teacup."
Grandmama shoved a mug into my hands. "Drink this. It'll help you sleep."
I sniffed it suspiciously. "Smells like regret and mushrooms."
"Good. That's the healing part."
I sipped it anyway.
* * *
That night, I curled up in a corner with a pile of blankets and a dagger tucked under my pillow, just in case someone decided to show up with a dramatic monologue and poor impulse control.
But sleep didn't come easy.
Because despite the safety of the cottage, despite Alessio's calm presence and Grandma Assassin's surprisingly cozy stew... I couldn't stop thinking.
About Clara.
About Marius.
About the fact that I was still Sonia Mitford, fictional heroine turned real-life prisoner on the run.
And somewhere inside me, something sharp and determined flickered to life.
No more waiting.
No more reacting.
If I was stuck in this story, I was going to rewrite it myself.
* * *
Elsewhere…
Marius stood in the middle of Sonia's room, moonlight glinting off his silver eyes.
The bed was cold. The shackle lay open on the floor, and his expression unreadable.
"Gone," he murmured.
A soldier waited nervously at the door.
"She escaped with the knight," the man stammered. "We found rope on the balcony. And... a trail leading into the forest."
Marius didn't answer. He touched the empty teacup still on the table.
She hadn't even drunk it.
"She'll come back," he said finally.
The soldier blinked. "Sir?"
"She always comes back."
He turned, eyes glinting like a storm behind glass.
"And if she doesn't…"
He smiled.
"I'll go find her myself."
To be continued