His soft sigh carries. “We will get you there. I cannot promise we will stay.”
Gesine presses her lips together and then nods.
“How have you learned to navigate my city so quickly, High Priestess?”
I bite my tongue and refrain from reminding him that it is no longer his city.
“You have more allies than you realize.” Gesine smiles at me. “As do you, Your Highness. Many allies and many who wish to see you as their queen.”
My mind swirls. “Please. No more Highness. No more queen. No more Princess Romeria.” I’ve had enough of it all. “It’s just Romy.”
“Very well, Romy.” She dips. “You will return to this place and bring hope for the people. But we must go now.” A moment later, as if she could sense it coming, wood splinters somewhere above.
We flee Cirilea, the exiled king of Islor and I running side by side.
And yet worlds apart.