For the first few days after escaping the palace, Kabil was sure that luck was finally on his side.
The memory of the cliff was a blur, but one image was clear: the edge. In the middle of the battle, he had personally pushed Lian Zhi into the abyss. Kazrail, the man who had stolen his throne, had jumped after her. Darkness had swallowed them both. In a gorge that deep, there was no way to survive.
It was that certainty that allowed him to flee with a shred of confidence. Kazrail was dead. Lian Zhi was dead. The two greatest obstacles in his path had been erased by the wind and the rocks.
Kabil stripped away his royal identity easily. He traded his silk robes for the dirty clothes of a laborer and hid his face under a hood. He joined a group of merchants leaving the capital. Among the traders, he was just another traveler, as long as he kept his head low and his mouth shut.
