The cloth immediately slipped free.
A hush swept through the grounds suddenly. That …didn't look like the Trontine Princess. Had she changed tremendously?
For a moment, no one moved.
The executioner froze, his raised sword hovering midair as his eyes locked onto the face before him. His grip faltered and his fingers tightened, then loosened again as confusion crept in.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"That's not..."
"Wait.."
"Is that—?"
On the royal dais, Queen Euphemia leaned forward, her painted lips parting. "Sibyl," she murmured slowly, disbelief threading her voice, "look."
Queen Sibyl did. Her eyes narrowed and then widened. What was she seeing?!
"That," she said shockingly, "that looks like Ingrid!"
"Not looks…it's her," Euphemia said with a confused gaze. The woman was just so odd and unpredictable. What stunt did she pull off now?
A murmur of shock rolled across the platform.
The executioner staggered back a step. "Y-Your Majesty?" he stammered, dropping to one knee instinctively and terror instantly draining the color from his face.
Ingrid lifted her eyes, and then she lifted her chin.
The morning light revealed her fully now. There was no illusion left to hide behind.
Just the Queen of the Kingdom, standing where a condemned girl should have been.
Damon noticed the sudden sound of the crowd's sudden unrest, and he turned sharply, irritation already burning on his face.
"What is it now?" he snapped. They should just get on with the execution. His advisor who stood beside him, wore a grim expression on his face.
How did that happen?
Damon's gaze followed the direction of every other eye on the grounds. They landed on the platform. On her. The captive. His…wife?
Damon froze. The sneer slid from his lips. His confidence cracked, just slightly, like glass under pressure.
"…Ingrid?"
Ingrid looked at him then.
"Good morning, Damon," she said, her voice loud and clear. "You seem surprised."
The priest stepped back hastily, "This…this must be some trick—"
"No trick," Ingrid cut in. "What you are seeing is true."
Damon strode forward, fury igniting his features. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "This is treason. You have disrupted an execution!"
Ingrid smiled faintly.
"An execution you ordered for an innocent girl," she replied. "Yes. I did disrupt it."
The crowd was no longer quiet now. There was gasps, murmurs, disbelief. Some knelt instinctively, others stared as though witnessing the dead rise.
"You used yourself as a decoy?" Damon hissed. "You think this changes anything?"
"It changes everything," Ingrid said softly.
She turned, slowly, allowing the people to see her clearly.
"Behold your Queen," she called out. "Alive and unafraid. And standing where justice should have stood today."
But to her dismay, the crowds roared against her.
"Where is the Prisoner?!"
"You let the enemy escape!"
"Your Majesty, the Emperor!"
Ingrid's face scrunched in disappointment. Such people were so blinded. Before she knew it, a hand shot to her throat.
Damon's hand!
Her eyes shot to him and her eyes darkened. "What are you going to do, hm?"
She taunted with a smirk, amidst the noises of the crowd. And Damon's scowl deepened.
Back in the bushes, two people ran in desperation. Oren kept on running. He couldn't stop. At some point, he dropped Nyssa down and she continued in the sprinting.
Her lungs burned, each breath tearing in and out of her chest like burning fire. The ground beneath her feet was not even and was slick with damp earth and scattered roots, but she did not slow down one bit. She could not. Not when her life was hanging by a thread.
The morning air kept hitting against her face, carrying the scent of moss, soil and some things irritating as well.
Oren was just ahead of her. He glanced back occasionally, his eyes glinting, making sure she was still there.
"I'm fine," she panted, even though he hadn't asked.
Branches kept tearing at Nyssa's sleeves, and thorns kissed her skin that stung badly.
But she kept running. Because she had no choice. Because behind them was death, all hope lost and a wild crowd that wanted her dead.
Nyssa's chest tightened painfully at the thought. The Queen's calm face flashed in her mind. She didn't know why the Queen could make such a huge decision concerning her, but she was grateful for it.
And just as their hurried steps continued, it happened — a horn blared.
The sound tore through the woods so loud that it startled the surrounding animals. Nyssa gasped and stumbled, feeling her heart sink to her stomach.
"They have found out!" Oren shouted, spinning his head back toward the distant palace.
Another horn blared again and it was more alarming than the first.
"Hurry!" he yelled.
Fear surged through her. Nyssa's legs screamed in protest, feeling her muscles tremble, but she forced herself forward. Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out everything except the persisting horns and Oren's voice.
"They'll send men," she cried, "They'll hunt us, Oren."
"Calm down," Oren snapped, grabbing her wrist and pulling her sharply to the left.
They veered off the path just as the sound of another horn thundered faintly in the distance.
Nyssa nearly fell, catching herself against a tree trunk and the bark scraped her palms.
"Oren," she whispered, panic filling in her voice.
"Look at me," he said firmly. And she did.
His eyes were fierce now, alight with something wild and unyielding.
"You trust me?" he asked.
Her answer came without thought. "Yes."
"Then run when I tell you. Do not look back and do not stop, even if you hear anything suspicious."
Her throat tightened. "What are you planning, Oren?"
"Just do as I say," he said, already moving again.
They plunged deeper into the forest, the branches snapping under their hurrying feet. Nyssa didn't know when they would stop running, but she knew they just had to run.
The woods seemed endless!
Nyssa's breath hitched when she nearly fell again. Tears blurred her vision. How had her life turn to this? Running for her life, like some hideous criminal.
She really needed to escape. She had to! But at least, she was still alive. She wasn't dead! Because if nothing of such intervention had happened, she would have been a dead princess hours ago.
What she had feared so much, she had finally evaded it.
Or had she?
She sighed, taking in a deep breath. She couldn't let herself be captured or killed. Her eyes went to the gown she wore.
She hoped the Queen to be safe and she wouldn't let her help be in vain. Her eyes went back to Oren's sprinting figure.
And neither would she let the sacrifice of this man.