Semua Bab Across Lifetimes, Still Yours : Bab 31 - Bab 38

Cris ran.The narrow servant tunnel twisted beneath Thornvale’s palace like a buried vein, slick with condensation and echoing with distant shouts. His boots slipped on the uneven stone as the walls pressed close, torchlight flaring somewhere behind him. Each breath scalded his lungs, tasting of dust and panic.He didn’t know who had shouted his name first, maybe a guard, maybe one of Anna’s spies, but the moment he heard it, he’d moved. Instinct had taken over. Now all he had was that one thought pounding through his head: Keep moving.At a fork in the passage, Cris hesitated for half a second before choosing the path that sloped downward. He knew these routes better than most Thornvale courtiers ever would - maps studied in stolen hours, memorized lines of escape. Leo had shown him once, jokingly, that the old fort tunnels “led straight to the bones of the sea.” He’d laughed then. He wasn’t laughing now.The air grew colder the farther he ran. He stumbled once, catching himself agai

The council chamber of Thornvale had never been this quiet. Even the banners seemed to hold their breath, motionless above a sea of polished armor and nervous faces.Cris stood at the center, wrists bound in gold-tinted restraints - ornamental, but no less cruel. The guards flanking him were dressed in ceremonial black, as if his presence were already a funeral.The Queen Mother sat at the head of the long marble table, back straight, expression unreadable. Anna stood to her right, the perfect picture of composure. Only her eyes betrayed the tension… bright, expectant, sharpened like a blade waiting for its cue.Owen stood behind her chair, silent. He hadn’t slept. The lines beneath his eyes had deepened, but he held himself steady, the mask uncracked.When the herald’s voice faded, the Queen Mother’s words cut through the air.“Lord Cris of Viremonthe. You stand before this court accused of espionage, treason, and the intent to destabilize peace between our realms.”The chamber stirr

Rain struck the cobblestones like thrown glass.Leo and Cris ran through the lower corridors, drenched, breath heavy, shadows snapping against torchlight. The storm outside drowned every sound, the thunder their only ally as they slipped through the outer gate and into the city below.“Which way?” Leo demanded, scanning the narrow streets that glistened like spilled ink.Cris pointed toward the eastern docks. “There’s a passage near the old storehouse, it leads to the river tunnels.”Leo nodded, gripping his arm for balance as they darted into a narrow lane. The smell of wet stone and iron filled the air. Somewhere behind them, shouts cut through the rain.“They’ve noticed,” Cris hissed.“Then we move faster.”They sprinted through the maze of Thornvale’s lower quarter - once a haven of trade, now hollow with the echo of sleeping markets and closed taverns. Lanterns swayed in the wind as lightning carved brief silver ghosts across the walls.When they reached the granary, Leo pulled C

Snow fell heavier that night than it had all season.It swallowed sound, softened the woods, and turned every breath into a ghost.Cris walked ahead, torchlight trembling in his hand, guiding Leo up the narrow slope. The prince’s cloak was torn at the shoulder, his steps uneven from exhaustion, but he said nothing. Only the crunch of ice beneath their boots marked the rhythm of their silence.When they finally reached the ridge, Cris pointed toward a dark shape half-buried under snow - a stone cabin, old and forgotten, the kind that hunters used generations ago. Smoke hadn’t risen from it in years.“This should keep us hidden,” Cris said quietly.Leo nodded, his voice low and rough. “If it doesn’t collapse first.”They forced the door open together. Inside, the air was dry and stale, thick with dust. A single window gaped open to the storm, its frame cracked. Still, it was shelter.Cris set the torch in the corner and knelt by the hearth. “There’s enough wood left to start a small fir