The transition from the ballroom to the gardens was like stepping out of a fever. The heavy, cloying scent of a thousand lilies and heated wax vanished, replaced by the crisp, biting honesty of the night air.
Liera led the way with a sure-footedness that surprised even Verona. While Verona had spent her years in the Vernhardt estate tucked away like a shameful secret, Liera had been the dutiful daughter, dragged to the palace for every "health check" of the royal lineage and every tedious tea with the Queen Mother. She navigated the maze of manicured hedges and marble fountains without a second's hesitation.
"Through here," Liera whispered, pulling Verona behind a screen of weeping willows that dipped their silver-tipped branches into a koi pond. "The guards usually patrol the main gravel paths on the hour. Here, the grass is thick enough to swallow our footsteps, and the water muffles the voice. No one will hear us."
