The Duke's Stolen Bride

The Escape

It was time. The moon had overtaken the sun in their nightly battle as the skies darkened, providing the perfect cover. The perfect night to escape.

Ceila stared at herself in the vanity mirror before her. She was perfect, just as she was moulded to be. Her olive skin was clear, her pink gaze bright and memorable, and her body uncomfortably thin. The way she held herself was elegant and poise, the perfect posture. There weren't even marks left on her body from the corset she wore from dusk to dawn. All that bore her now was a thin nightgown, and a cloak in her hand.

But most importantly, there was not a single hair out of place, even before bed. Every morning various creams and oils were applied to each strand and the maids worked diligently to ensure it shined brightly. It was unique after all, and the whole reason she was here. Though bright and colourful hair was common amongst the witch-dominated country, iridescent hair was not. Hair that changed colour on its own? That was almost unheard of and coveted by the noblest of families.

A witch's power was important, the stronger the power the more useful they were, but hair was what screamed noble, rich, and in some cases imperial. The more colourful and eye-catching a witch was, the more beautiful. That meant Ceila was the most beautiful of all.

She scoffed. It was disgusting. She was disgusting.

The maids had left her a few hours ago, night was the only time she had alone. The rest of the day was spent with servants, teachers, and 'family'. Every bit of her was watched, monitored. The only reason she was alone at night was so the others could sleep as well. Besides, she had been there so long. She knew her purpose, there was no reason to fear her escape.

It wasn't until a few days ago that she believed the same thing.

Her fingers brushed against the window, feeling the cold breath of night against the glass pane. Cold night soon to greet her. She looked back at the room, feeling its familiarity. It was a large room with a proper vanity, wardrobe, night desk, and bed with soft blankets. The walls were adorned with a patterned wallpaper and a bright pink carpet laid by her bed, matching her eyes. It was perfect for the perfect noblewoman. A noblewoman about to jump out a window.

She glanced down, she was on the second floor and while in words it didn't seem like much, the view said otherwise. Falling could mean a broken ankle, a broken ankle for the perfect woman was the same as a broken leg for a horse. They'd be put down without a chance of escape. She would have to be careful in her descent.

The woman opened the window and felt the cold air. After sliding her cloak on and pulling her hood up, she slid her body outside the window. With her legs dangling over the open air, the view looked even worse. It seemed like the mansion may have grown in the few moments she waited to leave. She took a breath. It was this or death, might as well give this a shot.

Slowly, she lowered her body down, her hands still gripping the window sill until her foot caught onto a brick too slightly out. It was fine, this was easy. She had seen people scale walls all the time before. She could do this.

Ceila breathed again, and lowered herself more, waiting until her fingers could grasp onto the next brick. It took longer than she liked, but she was making her way down carefully. Each step was thought of beforehand but it kept her safe. Until it didn't.

While still a few feet off the ground, she slipped. Her left foot missed a brick and her body went tumbling down, landing on her ankle first before falling to her bottom. The nightgown was dirty.

The pain, she noticed first, but it was bearable. She pulled her dress up a bit, glancing down at her ankle. It wasn't broken. That meant she could walk. The sharp pain worsened as she forced herself to stand but it was nothing she hadn't handled before.