Princess Thistle slipped out of the palace through a side balcony, her white gown fluttering in the gentle afternoon breeze. Her heart raced with a mix of determination and dread. She moved quietly along the outer stone ledge, using the thick flowering vines that climbed the palace walls for support. The warm sunlight felt almost mocking against her skin after the horrors she had witnessed.
She reached the wing containing Prince Hranfir's private chambers. The large arched window was partially open, heavy velvet curtains swaying lightly. Thistle carefully climbed higher, gripping the stone frame, and peered inside.
What she saw inside the dimly lit room left her utterly stunned, her bright violet eyes widening in pure shock and revulsion. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
