Princess on the Run

Chapter 7

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

-Lao Tzu

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Isabella stood infront of her mirror. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the thin cotton maid uniform Mary had gotten her. She adjusted the borrowed cloak, making sure it hid her hair and the gold locket around her neck – a dead giveaway of her noble birth. She knew taking it with her was a stupid decision, but she couldn't find it in her to leave it behind. It had been with her since the moment she was born. Her stomach churned in excitement and terror. One wrong move, one wrong word, and her carefully planned escape would crumble.

She lingered for a moment, her eyes falling on the small, hastily written note left on her bed. It wouldn't win her any friends back at the palace, that was for sure. But dwelling on the consequences wouldn't get her out of here. She quickly shoved the thought aside.

Taking a final, nervous glance around her room, Isabella slipped out. The midday lull had settled over the palace. Most servants were either tucked away in their duties or enjoying a break before the afternoon rush. Perfect.

She moved like a wraith down the familiar hallways, her bare feet silent against the cool stone floor. A nervous curtsy here, a mumbled greeting there, she kept her head down and the borrowed cloak pulled tight. The usually bustling palace felt eerily quiet, amplifying the pounding of her heart.

As she neared the main gates, a wave of relief washed over her. Almost there. But then, chaos. Maids from the morning shift were leaving, their chatter filling the air. New maids for the evening shift were arriving. Isabella weaved through the throng, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She slipped into a line of departing maids, praying for anonymity. She didn't dare make eye contact, the fear of recognition a cold knot in her stomach. Just as she was about to melt through the gates, a voice boomed from behind.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Isabella froze. The guard's voice cut through the din like a knife, sending a jolt of terror through her. Slowly, she turned, her breath catching in her throat. The guard held out a small object – a silver daisy charm bracelet, the birthday gift from Mary.

Relief flooded her like a warm wave, washing away the fear. "Thank you," she croaked, her voice barely audible. A deep curtsy, lower than she'd ever dared before, and she scurried through the gates.

Outside, she leaned against the rough stone wall, gasping for breath. Her legs felt like jelly, the weight what she had just done, pressing down on her. But clutched in her hand, the little charm bracelet felt like a talisman. Mary's plan had worked. Freedom, for the first time in a long time, felt real.

As Isabella slipped away from the palace gates, her eyes darted like a cornered rabbit. The pre-arranged cab, promised by Mary, was nowhere to be seen. Panic gnawed at the edges of her relief. Had something gone wrong? A bead of sweat traced a path down her temple, the borrowed cloak suddenly feeling suffocating.

Just as despair threatened to consume her, a weathered black cab appeared at the end of the street, its dented fenders and faded paint job, making it stand out amongst the vibrant surroundings. Hope surged through her, momentarily eclipsing the fear. Maybe a minor delay, nothing more.

Isabella hurried towards the cab, her borrowed shoes clicking a frantic rhythm on the cobblestone street. Reaching the vehicle, she paused, taking a moment to compose herself. This was it. The point of no return.