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shocked me out of my stupor, and I began to run. I ran like the hounds of hell were after me. I didn’t know where I was going or whom I needed to find—I just knew that I needed to run away.
    I ran until my legs collapsed beneath me and my lungs burned. I was completely lost—without a home, without a family, without a mask, and without a plan.
    So I did the only thing I could do: I curled up in a small alleyway between two buildings and cried myself to sleep, allowing myself to mourn and to hurt.
    I could be strong tomorrow.



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    I slept fitfully, my cheek still burning as nightmares and flames plagued my mind. The first time I woke up, I tried to clean the burn as best I could by licking the clean bandages I’d brought and ever so carefully dabbing at the Mark. At least the blood was gone. I couldn’t wipe away the feel of his gaze on my bare face, though. I touched my makeshift mask to make sure it was in place, swallowing hard before exhaustion pulled me back to sleep.
    When the sun was up and I woke yet again with a groan, I decided it was best to start the day. Even if the sun was just barely up, I had a lot to do. I needed to find something stronger than saliva to clean my wound.
    First things first, though. Where was I? That would be a good thing to know. And where could I find some food?
    I stood and stretched, fighting to get the uncomfortable crick out of my neck and back so I could think straight. When I looked around, I nearly fell back to the ground.
    I was sitting at the foot of the outer wall to the palace.
    I’d walked by this place countless times. A thick, stonewall surrounded the entire property, and there were kilometers of gardens and small canals before I could reach the actual building, which was something else entirely. It was a beautiful piece of architecture on the outside, with multiple wings and hundreds of windows, stained glass, and intricate sills. The inside too was a work of art from what I’d heard, with thousands of paintings and sculptures. I’d always known the Royal Family were great patrons of the arts, as demonstrated by the fact that the prince had a different mask with every public appearance. I’d always been awed by this place.
    But now, to be standing here, staring at the great building, I couldn’t help feeling anything but intimidation. Why did my delirious subconscious lead me here of all places?
    It was still early morning, and the roads and canals around the palace were beginning to fill with workers, travelers, and guards. I didn’t know how they generally reacted to maskless vagabonds hanging about the gates, but I could wager a guess that they would ignore me at best, and taunt or harass me at worst. They wouldn’t dare do anything more violent than that so close to the courts.
    I looked down at myself and realized I was still in my nightdress and boots. I frowned, which proved to be a bad idea when the movement pulled at the raw skin on my face. I really needed to find a better way to treat the wound, as well as find some clean clothes. A more appropriate mask would be nice too. What I wore now was no better than a head scarf with eyes cut out. And food , my stomach reminded me with a growl. I couldn’t forget food.
    I could find all of these things back at my home, provided that there was anything left, and that what littleremained hadn’t been looted. Thinking back, if Hachi was making that much noise, he’d probably been found by someone and they’d hopefully been able to salvage the rest of the house.
    Was it worth the risk of being seen like this, though? I weighed the options in my head. In my current state, I wouldn’t be recognized, and no one would likely believe my story. Since the prince’s announcement, it was likely that neighbors would be more suspicious of each other—and I had always kept to myself. They would say I had all the means to burn my home, never mind the fact that I had absolutely no motive.
    But if I kept this