The palace felt like a cage made of silk and gold that morning, every corridor whispering stay, stay, stay while my blood sang run, run, run. I had barely slept after the border fight, Gavin's vow still burning in my ears like a brand, the shallow cut on my arm already scabbing over into a thin white promise. The sigils on my skin hummed louder than ever, silver threads that lit up whenever I thought of the circle, whenever I remembered how close we had come to losing it all yesterday.
I needed air that didn't taste of marble and politics. I needed speed. I needed to feel the wind tear the weight of the crown off my shoulders for just one hour.
Harlan found me in the stables before the grooms finished yawning.
