Chapter 11

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The Smuggler's Ship

The morning came quickly, and with it, the reality of their situation. They packed their belongings with urgency, every movement sharp and deliberate, as if the very air itself was thick with the danger of being discovered.

By midmorning, they had reached the docks—a small, weather-beaten pier that jutted out into a choppy sea. The ship they were waiting for was a humble one, its sails lowered as it sat in the harbor, ready to take them across the sea and out of the kingdom's reach.

Eliza's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the ship. The enormity of what they were about to do settled over her. Leave everything behind. For the first time in her life, she was about to board a vessel bound for an uncertain future—far from the comforts of the palace, far from the royal halls that had defined her existence.

And yet, in her heart, she knew there was no other choice.

The smuggler, a rough-looking man with a weathered face and sharp eyes, greeted them at the dock. His expression was all business, his movements quick and efficient.

"Are you the ones?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"We are," Lila replied, stepping forward with a brief nod of acknowledgment.

"Then get on board," he said, without another word.

As they boarded the ship, Eliza's gaze lingered on the distant shoreline of Aramore. Goodbye, she thought. Goodbye to everything I've ever known.

And with that...

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