Fly The Palace

“This is undignified!” Mira said as her most trusted aides tried vainly to hussle her into a hidden compartment in the underside of a hay cart. It was gone midnight and the moon was red with the blood of the fallen. The sounds of fighting were all around them.

“Your highness, we must fly the palace or all is lost,” Harris said. His sword was in his hands and his eyes darted about, as if he expected them to be found out any moment. Mira thought she saw fear in his eyes. Her arguments died on her tongue.

“But my people are dying.” She spoke softly, her dark eyes glazed with tears. Harris laid a strong hand on her shoulder.

“To protect you. You are our only hope. Now go before they find us!” He pushed her bodily into the small space and closed it up, making sure to cover it well.

One of the aides took the seat and whipped the horse into motion. Within a few moments they were out of sight. Harris turned his attention to the enemy. He intended to even out the odds before the night was done.

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