There was nothing like summer in Aecora. It was late afternoon, and the sun was bright in a cloudless, cerulean sky, shining brilliantly down on the seaside kingdom. Gulls cried cheerfully, dancing on updrafts as they soared across the coast and swooped around the sandstone walls of the kingdom's glorious centerpiece, the Pantons' royal castle. Less than a mile from the structure, waves lapped at the beach in an even rhythm. Young children raced their siblings and parents alike along its path, laughter drifting into the air as they dodged patches of sea foam.

It should have been a perfect day, and for any of the kingdom's other residents, it may have been.

But for Pretie Panton, princess of Aecora, it was anything but.

The girl stood by the half-open window of her spacious bedroom, her eyes catching on a couple making their way down the street below. They strolled down it at a pace that indicated that they were in no rush to get anywhere, their linked hands swinging between them. As one of the two leaned over to whisper something in the other's ear, a pair of matching grins spread across their faces.

A shiver of envy, viscous and green, slid its way into Pretie's mind and she forced herself to look away. She would never have that—not now, with her arranged marriage imminent and every minute drawing her closer to a future she wanted no part of.

Running a hand down her face, Pretie wandered to her dressing table, sitting heavily down on the stool and staring into the mirror before her. Her brunette locks, usually curled to perfection, looked more like a bird's nest on top of her head. Her hazel eyes were shadowed with bags. 

For a moment, she considered calling for Juva, her handmaiden, to freshen up her appearance for her. The woman was always eager to help however she could, her hands well-trained to coax the tangles from Pretie's hair and replace them with all sorts of intricate braids. The princess decided otherwise as she considered the one downside to her helpful handmaiden: the woman couldn't keep her mouth shut for a second. Pretie couldn't stand the thought of sitting through her never-ending stories, no matter how juicy the castle gossip was.

The girl reached for a brush and began tentatively tugging out the knots in her hair—proving with each involuntary wince that she wasn't nearly as graceful at the feat as Juva—and let out a shaky sigh. Less than two days from now, she would be married to someone she had never met, the mysteriously anonymous prince of San Clivus. She could still hear her father's voice echoing in her mind as he announced her fate.

"I have excellent news, my dear!" The man had greeted her not too long ago.

Pretie had thought he was joking with her, and responded in turn, "Oh? And what could that possibly be?"

"I've officially arranged for your marriage." He had told her instead, offering her a grin. She could still remember the exact moment her own teasing smile had slipped from her face. "At the month's end, we'll be solidifying the alliance between Aecora and San Clivus with your union to their youngest prince."

Much as Pretie hated to admit it, the alliance made sense. San Clivus was the source of most of the land's agriculture and livestock; by making a deal with the seaside kingdom, they could access the ports Aecora had to offer while simultaneously providing the latter with a better deal on the produce they already had to import. But why, for hells' sake, does it have to involve me?

The hairbrush jolted to a stop in her hand as she came across a particularly large tangle. Gritting her teeth, Pretie ripped the brush through as quickly as she could, eager to be done with the process. A grunt left her lips and she let go of the brush with a wince. It remained dangling in her hair, trapped.

Why am I even bothering? She thought to herself, plucking the brush out and setting it down on the table. Nothing in my life has ever been in my control. How can I expect that to suddenly change? 

Pretie huffed, glancing toward the window again. A light breeze drifted through it, bringing with it the familiar scent of the ocean and the bubbling laughter of Aecoran residents.

I almost wish I could just run away. While the thought was hardly more than a joke, Pretie's eyebrows creased with the realization. Wait. Maybe I could.

Fueled by her sudden motivation, Pretie raced to the door of her rooms, leaning against the wood to listen for passersby in the hall outside. When she heard nothing but silence, she slowly opened the door, cringing as it creaked on its hinges. She took a step out of her room, looking in either direction down the hall. No one. Thank the gods. 

Pretie chewed absentmindedly on the inside of her cheek as she wandered down the hall, eyes narrowed in concentration. I seem to remember there being a linen closet somewhere nearby... She paused as her gaze landed on a door that looked far different from the others in the hallway, in that it lacked the decoration of the ones surrounding it. Pretie managed a satisfied smile as she pulled the door open to reveal shelves stacked with neat rows of towels and sheets.

The princess piled as many bed sheets into her arms as she could manage, standing on tiptoe to grab the ones on the highest shelf. As she shut the closet door and shuffled back to her rooms, she felt a twinge of guilt at having robbed the castle staff of their supply of sheets. She quickly dismissed the thought. I'll be gone soon enough, and they can use the sheets as soon as I'm done with them. 

Pretie shifted the heaping pile of sheets onto one arm as she struggled to grab the doorknob. Footsteps sounded down the hall, accompanied by quiet chatter. Cursing softly, she continued her panicked struggle, fear making her heart beat faster. Just as Pretie was about to give up and resign herself to her fate, she managed to twist the knob and shove the door open, stumbling into the safety of her rooms with a sigh of relief.

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While Pretie was subpar at braiding hair, she found it surprisingly easy to tie sheets together. She quickly settled into a rhythm, focusing on one knot at a time as she slowly built onto the length of her makeshift escape rope. Her hands only fumbled when she heard a voice outside her door.

"Pretie?" Juva.

She shoved her creation under the bed as best she could, leaping to her feet as the door slowly peeled open to reveal her handmaiden. The woman's brown-eyed gaze immediately flitted to Pretie.

"Oh, honey, your hair." Juva chided in a hushed voice, rushing over. Pretie froze for a moment before her words sank in. Of course the first thing she notices is my hair. While she was ashamed that the mess atop her head had attracted the woman's attention, she supposed it was better than her escape plan being found out.

The handmaiden tentatively lifted one of the locks, her eyebrows creasing in concern as she eyed the frizzy result of Pretie's hurried brush job. Her own hair, blonde-going-silver, was as perfectly styled as ever, hanging in neat waves down her back.

"I thought I could just do it on my own for once," Pretie muttered, her face heating with an embarrassed flush. "I didn't want to have to deal with..." She trailed off, realizing how her words probably sounded to the handmaiden. "Not that I don't appreciate you, but..."

Juva just chuckled. "I get it. You want some time on your own, before everything changes."

The girl hesitated before nodding. "It's just... Ugh. I hate this."

"I know, I know," the handmaiden murmured in a reassuring voice. "And I'm happy to give you some time, but... Would you let me fix this first?"

Pretie fell silent as she reluctantly sat back down at her dressing table, where the hairbrush still lay with a clump of her hair trapped in its spokes. Juva stepped into place behind her, her gentle hands sweeping the princess's hair behind her back. As she began to comb her fingers through it, Pretie let out a soft sigh.

"I wish my father at least let me have some sort of choice in this matter," Pretie mumbled after a moment. "I don't even know what my future husband looks like. I don't even remember his name."

"Virid Stickman, I believe," Juva answered hesitantly, beginning to split the girl's hair into three parts. "At least, I think that's his name. I know the Stickmans make up the royal family of San Clivus, but I don't remember each of them by name. The one you're marrying is the youngest of... Three? Four? I'm not sure. Virid was probably not much older than a toddler when he last visited Aecora with the rest of the family." She offered Pretie an apologetic smile—whether for her rambling or lack of knowledge, she wasn't sure.

"So I wouldn't have even met him," the princess confirmed. "Gods, I hate this."

Juva remained silent this time. Pretie knew it was unfair of her to complain like this. She should have been happy about the arrangement; the opportunity to marry a prince and secure her position as heir should have brought excitement. Instead, the only feeling she could manage to muster was an intense, gut-curdling dread.

"I wish I could just get out of this mess." She whispered.

Pretie felt Juva's hands still on her hair. "With the wedding tomorrow, I'm not sure that's possible, my dear."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." The girl murmured hesitantly. Her gaze drifted instinctively to where her creation lay before realizing her mistake. Unfortunately, it was too late—Juva's eyes had followed hers, growing wide. 

"You're..." 

"It's not what it looks like," Pretie hissed hurriedly, her wide-eyed gaze flitting between the sheets-turned-rope and her handmaiden. "I'm not— It's not—"

For a long moment, Juva was quiet. Pretie swallowed nervously, put off by her uncharacteristic silence. Just as the princess was about to say more to defend herself, the woman spoke in a low voice, "I'm not going to try and stop you." 

Her eyebrows lifted, sure she had misheard the handmaiden. "What?"

"I'm not going to try and stop you," Juva repeated softly, her eyes lifting to meet Pretie's. "If this is what you think is best... Then I'm right there with you, my dear."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. To Pretie, Juva was the closest thing she had to a mother; her birth mother had passed when she was only a few years old. Standing here now, seeing the concern and adoration in the woman's eyes, Pretie felt even more clearly that it was true. Offering a gentle smile, Juva enveloped the girl in her arms.

"Do it under cover of night," she murmured into Pretie's ear. "If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're sound asleep. As far as they know, you're just getting some much-needed beauty sleep in preparation for the wedding."

"Thank you," the girl whispered shakily, hugging her tighter. "For everything."

"I'm so proud of you, my dear." Juva smiled as she released Pretie from her arms, taking a step toward the door. "I wish you the best of luck. I hope I never see you again." She winked and the princess laughed softly.

"Goodbye." Pretie whispered as the handmaiden slipped out of the room. She stood there watching the closed door for a moment, half hoping that Juva would rush back in and beg her to stay. Her heart squeezed as the door remained shut. For a choice that seemed so necessary, Pretie wished it didn't have to hurt this much.

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It was several hours before the sun sank below the horizon, and nearly another before the sky darkened completely. The wait had given Pretie plenty of time to finish her rope of sheets—and second-guess her decision. Still, when the sky was finally black, the stars blinking at her invitingly, the princess took a breath and lifted her creation. It's time. 

Tying an end of the rope to one of her bed posts, Pretie tugged it experimentally, putting her full weight against the rope. While the bed shifted a little, the knot held. She took a breath and stepped over to the window sill.

The Pantons' castle wasn't tall; Pretie's rooms were on the third of four floors, not including the open rooftop level. The roof of the floor below stretched out several feet before giving way to the roof of the first floor, which reached out in turn to the bordering wall. All Pretie would have to do was rappel down from her window, race across the sandstone roofs of the floors below, and hop over the wall. Easy as pie. 

Pretie dropped the end of the makeshift rope out of the window. As expected, it stopped just a few feet above the second story's roof. Straddling the sill, Pretie gripped the sheets and took a breath. Let's do this. Without hesitating any further, she stepped out of the window, pressing the flats of her feet onto the outer wall. 

The girl managed several steps downward, letting loose the breath she'd been holding, before she let herself look around. 

Fear shot down her spine as she locked eyes with a figure climbing down their own rope a few windows over.