Nyssa's gaze on Oren was filled with confusion. What did he mean by the Queen giving her her clothes?
"I… I don't understand."
"See for yourself." He handed the garments to her, and she took them hesitantly.
Clutching them, her eyes swept over the fabrics, and she gasped softly. The gowns shimmered with shine and elegance.
"They're… beautiful."
Her eyes lifted to Oren, who was watching her closely.
"She wants me to wear her clothes?" Nyssa asked, brows lifting in bewilderment.
Oren didn't answer. His attention drifted back to the bag. He reached inside again, as his fingers brushed something thin and crisp.
It was a paper. He pulled it out, revealing a letter sealed with gold.
"A seal… it's from the Queen." He looked up at Nyssa, whose brows creased.
"What does it say?"
Oren tore the seal open and scanned the page. Then he paused.
"… I can't make out what she's saying."
Nyssa blinked. "What do you mean?"
"It's not in our language. The symbols are different."
Nyssa pursed her lips and stepped closer. "Are you sure? Maybe the lighting–"
"Hold it toward the light," he said.
She took the letter from him and tilted it, so the dim light from the far end could fall in it. Oren watched, expecting her confusion, but her expression stayed blank.
"So?" he asked.
Nyssa slowly lifted her green eyes to him. " I can read it."
Oren stared. "W-what?"
"It's an old language," she explained quietly. "It's taught at the Royal Academy of Elements. It's how our ancestors communicated."
She pressed her lips together.
"So she knows it too?" he asked.
Nyssa nodded. She must have come from a lineage of powerful magic wielders if she could write in such language.
Oren exhaled softly. "I see…" He gave a small, humorless chuckle. "My family didn't bother sending an illegitimate son to any academy."
Nyssa looked at him apologetically. It must have been hard for him.
"What does it say?" he asked, trying to wade off the gloomy atmosphere. Nyssa's gaze drifted back to the letter and something lingered in her eyes.
"Princess?" he said gently. "What's wrong? What did the Queen say?"
Nyssa opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Princess…"
She shook her head. "No…"
"What is it?"
She inhaled slowly. "She wants to help me escape."
Oren's face lit up instantly. "See? I told you! I told you it would work!"
But Nyssa still looked down.
"What now?" he asked softly.
"It's too risky," she whispered. "I don't think I–"
"You will," Oren said gently. "We talked about this."
She sighed.
"What else did she say?"
Nyssa glanced at the gowns in her arms.
"She said I should wear these tomorrow."
Oren watched her closely. "Can you read it out?"
The letter trembled faintly in Nyssa's hands as she lifted it again and the faint gold of the seal caught what little light filtered through the iron bars. Her eyes traced the strange, ancient symbols, with each curve and stroke blooming into meaning in her mind.
She swallowed. Then, she read aloud.
"Based on my assessment, our figures are similar. You will wear these clothes and tie your hair with that scarf. Sit in the cell, and when you receive the signal, tomorrow… run."
Her voice faded into the stale air of the dungeon.
Nyssa slowly looked up at Oren, her brows drawn tight. "I don't… I don't understand. It's not making any sense."
Oren took the letter from her, even though he could not read it, as if holding it might give him some new insight. He stared at the unfamiliar symbols, then lifted his eyes back to her.
"She wants you to be in disguise," he said.
Nyssa frowned. "Disguise?"
"Yes. Her clothes, her scarf.. she wants you to look like her."
A chill crept down Nyssa's spine. "But… why?" she whispered. "How would that help me escape?"
Oren's jaw tightened. "Because no one questions the Queen."
Nyssa hugged the gowns closer to her chest. "Then she would be… pretending I am her?"
"And she would be pretending she is you," he finished quietly.
Nyssa's breath hitched. "You mean… she would take my place in the cell?"
Oren didn't answer right away. His eyes darkened with thought and his suspicions rose.
"The letter is a bit vague," he said at last. "She tells you what to wear, how to sit and when to run. But she doesn't explain what she is risking."
Nyssa looked back down at the parchment. "She didn't say anything about herself."
"That's what worries me. What is she hiding?"
Nyssa slowly lowered herself to the cold floor, folding the Queen's clothes neatly in her lap. The fabric was so different from the rough cloth of her gown. Soft, fine and regal.
"How would she..wear my clothes? She has to come into the cell for that?" She whispered.
"For her to write that down, she probably has a plan."
"She would die if she were caught," Nyssa drew her knees to her chest. Would the woman be willing to take such risk?
Oren knelt in front of her. "Yes."
"And she knows that."
"Yes, she does."
Nyssa's fingers trembled against the silk. "Why would she do this for me?"
Oren studied her face, then said softly, "You heard her story. Damon is not only your enemy. He is hers, too."
Nyssa's lips parted, but no words came.
Oren leaned back slightly. "She hates him. That much is clear. And if she can save you while wounding him, even if it costs her… she might think it worth it."
Nyssa shook her head slowly. "But I don't want her to die for me."
"She might not," he said. "We do not know the full plan. She may have her own escape route."
"But you just said she left things out."
"I did," he replied grimly, "we are just assuming."
Nyssa closed her eyes, clutching the letter. "Why does everything have to feel like walking into a storm blindfolded?"
Oren gave a small, crooked smile. "Welcome to the real world of cruelty."
She huffed weakly, then grew quiet again.
"Read it again," Oren said gently. "Every word, slowly. Maybe there's a clue somewhere."
"I…should start from the beginning?"
Oren raised a brow. "Obviously."
Nyssa nodded and lifted the parchment once more.
"Yes, I know you are surprised, but I decided to use our ancient language. Being careful is such a task now, isn't it? At least I'm sure, no one would be able to read it.
Based on my assessment, our figures are similar. You will wear these clothes and tie your hair with that scarf. Sit in the cell, and when you receive the signal, tomorrow… run."
Nyssa looked back at him.
"That's all?" Oren asked.
"That's…all," she confirmed.
"No time? No place? No mention of her role, whatsoever?"
"Just… run," Nyssa bit her lip.
Oren exhaled through his nose. "She is either incredibly brave or incredibly desperate."
Nyssa looked at the gowns again, then at him. "Oren… what if I can't do it?"
He met her gaze. "You can."
"And what if I mess it up?"
"Then we improvise," he said. "But you will not give up."
She swallowed. "You make it sound so easy. Is it because you are used to running?"
His gaze on her sharpened and she looked away.
"It isn't easy," he finally spoke, "But nothing about surviving ever is."
Her eyes went to him again, but she said no word.
After a while of silence, Nyssa picked up the scarf. It was long and pale, embroidered with tiny silver threads that glimmered faintly.
"This looks like a veil," she murmured.
"Yes."
Nyssa lifted it to her face. It smelled faintly of flowers and something stronger beneath. Perfume and iron.
Oren watched her, then he heard her sigh.
"I hate Damon," she said suddenly, "But I never wanted someone else to die because of me."
Oren's gaze softened. "You are royalty. Subjects can die for you."
"The Queen isn't my subject."
"I'm just being general."
Nyssa hugged the clothes closer. "Do you really think I can pass for her?"
Oren tilted his head. "Your height is close. Your build, too. And in the dim light, behind bars…the guards look like dimwits though. I don't think they would notice anything off."
She pursed her lips. "What about you?"
Oren's brow raised. "What about me?"
"Where will you be when I run?"
He hesitated. "I will be with you."
Nyssa frowned. "You're not staying behind, are you?"
Oren didn't respond.
"Oren."
He looked at her.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Her voice came out shaky.
He exhaled. "I might have to stay, for a moment."
"For a moment?" she repeated.
"To draw attention. To make sure they follow me, not you."
Nyssa's eyes widened. "That's insane."
"It's necessary, Princess."
"You could be killed!" She whisper yelled.
"So could you," he countered gently.
She sighed, "That's different, Oren."
"Not really."
Nyssa shook her head fiercely. "I won't leave you."
"You will," he said. "Because you must."
She stared at him and her heart began to pound. "Don't you dare talk like you're already a ghost."
He gave a small, crooked smile. "I'm just realistic."
"I hate when you do that."
"I know."
She rolled her eyes, and then shifted closer to him. "You will escape with me, Oren."
He didn't say anything and then Nyssa's eyes burned with anger. "Fine then, I won't escape."
Oren's eyes snapped to hers. "You will do no such thing."
"Oh yes, I will."
He sighed, ruffling his dark hair, "Princess, try to under–"
"No," her eyes glistened with tears, "Oren.. please…I'm already scared the Queen will die. I don't want more people dying! Just please…come with me."
He was silent for some seconds, then nodded. "Okay."
Her eyes widened, "Seriously?"
"Yes, if that's what the Princess wishes, I have no choice but to fulfill it."
A wide smile spread across her face, "Thank you. I'm just so scared, so I need a companion."
His eyes softened. "I'm scared too."
She looked up at him. "You hide it really well."
And he shrugged, "Years of practice."
Nyssa smiled gently and looked towards the bars. It's either escape, die while escaping, or die in captivity. But though she had Oren's reassurance and the Queen's backing, doubt still lingered in her mind.
She looked back at Oren, who had been staring at her, and offered him a wide smile, "Thank you, Oren."
Because no matter the outcome, she would always be grateful to him.