The servants’ quarters were my only way through.
The narrow corridor beyond them led straight to the back door of the manor, and from there, into the garden.
I moved slowly, each step measured, my weight rolling on the balls of my feet to keep my tread silent. My shawl shifted lightly against my arm as I walked, the faint rustle loud in the stillness.
Halfway down the hall of the servants’ quarters, I froze.
Voices.
Two of them. Soft, hurried whispers threading through the dark.
I turned my head toward the sound, heart thudding hard enough I could hear it in my ears.
The faint glow of lamplight bled from a half-open door. I hadn’t expected anyone to be awake, not at this hour when most of the servants should have been sleeping in their narrow beds, the hall dark and silent.
I pressed myself to the wall, holding my breath.
The words were too faint to make out, but I could tell they were spoken in quick bursts, one maid leaning in, the other answering in sharp, clipped tones. The rhythm of gossip.
I pictured their heads bent close together, the way servants always seemed to know more than they should.
They shouldn’t see me here.
So I waited.
One minute. Then another.
The light inside the room shifted, dimming as the wick was turned down. Hinges groaned softly, and the door clicked shut.
Footsteps padded along the floor, slow at first, then fading into the distance. The soft thump of mattresses followed. Then silence.
I forced myself to move again, my legs tight with the effort of restraint.
The corridor eventually opened into the cool night air.
The garden spread out before me, silvered under the light of the moon. The neat lines of hedges cast deep shadows on the grass, and the air smelled of damp earth and night-blooming flowers.
My lungs drank it in greedily after the stale confines of the manor.
Earlier today, while pretending to take a casual walk, I’d bent to the herb beds and plucked what I needed — sprigs of rosemary, the sharp bite of sage, and a handful of mint leaves I’d crushed in my palm until their scent clung to my skin. I had wrapped them in a scrap of linen and tucked them into my shawl.
Now, as I pulled them free, the rich, pungent aroma rose around me. I rubbed a bit more against my wrists, along the edge of my collar.
Strong enough, I hoped, to mask my own scent from any patrol hound or sharp-nosed wolf passing near the maze.
The hedges rose high on either side, their dense green walls absorbing sound, making the space between them feel almost too quiet. I paused at the entrance, glancing once over my shoulder.
The manor’s back door was a dark rectangle in the wall, its outline softened by shadow. No movement. No sound except the faint sigh of leaves.
I turned back to the maze.
I knew every twist and turn, every false path and narrow bend, from the days when my father was Beta and I could roam the Alpha’s estate freely. Back then, the maze had been my escape from dull dinners and stiff introductions.
Now, it would be my way out of this place entirely.
The hedges seemed to lean in, swallowing me whole.
I’d had practice at this before.
When I was younger, my father could be... strict. If I made trouble, which I often did, he’d confine me to our manor, posting guards at the gates like I was some dangerous prisoner instead of his daughter.
Back then, escaping was a game. A challenge. I learned where they’d grow lax, where the blind spots lay, how to use shadows and timing to slip past them unseen.
That was years ago. But the skills remained.
My steps quickened as I crossed the stretch of open grass toward the maze, each footfall muffled by the damp blades.
The air cooled the further I got from the manor, and I could almost feel the eyes of its walls at my back, searching for me.
Relief unfurled in my chest when I reached the tall hedges and stepped between them.
Here, I could walk tall without fear of being spotted. The walls of green rose high enough to swallow me completely, blocking any line of sight from the upper windows.
The moon’s light slipped in narrow, fractured beams, broken by the hedge tops. It wasn’t full tonight, thank the Goddess, so I wasn’t bathed in that betraying silver glow.
Even if someone looked from the manor, they’d see nothing more than shadow moving through shadow.
I let out a slow breath, pressing a hand briefly to the rough, cool leaves beside me. The scent of crushed herbs clung to my skin and shawl, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the maze. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
I pushed forward, each step taking me deeper, the manor fading behind me with every turn.
I was almost there.
The last turn of the maze lay ahead, just a few more steps and I’d be through the narrow break in the hedges, out onto the strip of grass that led to the forest.
The cool air ahead tasted different, freer somehow, and for a moment I could almost feel the wild beyond the estate pulling me toward it.
Then I stopped.
Something tightened low in my gut, an instinct sharp enough to cut through the rush of my thoughts. I didn’t hear it at first. I felt it.
The faint tremor underfoot, a shift in the air that didn’t belong to the wind.
The sound followed a moment later.
Footsteps.
Not the casual stride of a patrolling guard, these were heavier, faster, pounding into the earth with purpose. Boots slamming the ground in uneven bursts as if they’d just broken into a run.
I held my breath, every muscle locking in place.
Then a voice split the night.
Loud. Harsh. Carrying too easily in the stillness.
"The breeder ran away! FIND HER!"