It's not like I have much to pack .
On the bed , I make a small bundle with a few old clothes you've donated to me and , most importantly , the money the King gave me .
That's all I have to survive .
Shielded by the night and the darkness , I wander through the corridors , glancing around fearfully , clearly intending to escape .
I reach the kitchen and search for the back door. Obviously, I want to risk leaving through the main entrance .
When I glance at the counter where the King's meals are served , a surge of anger rises in my chest .
Why would they do something like this ? Who could be so cruel as to send an innocent woman to certain death ? The maid who helped the one who cut her hand is my main suspect, the one who had the opportunity while I was distracted .
Perhaps both of
