Mairo's thoughts spun wildly, her earlier confusion melting into a sickening clarity that gripped her chest like a vice. She sank onto the edge of her sleeping cushion, fingers curling tightly around the fur bedding as if it could anchor her against the crushing weight of realization.

"Bismillah," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "It all makes sense now."

The memory of Buje mountain surged back—each detail sharp and stinging. The thrill of the sabotage, the frantic chase, and then... the abrupt, inexplicable retreat of the Gwari soldiers. She had once chalked it up to luck or their incompetence. Now, the truth hit her, harsh and unyielding, like the searing wind of the desert, stripping away any illusions.

"They knew," she murmured, her fingernails digging into her palms. "They knew exactly who I was. This... this betrothal was already in motion."

Her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat at the mere thought of Prince Rashid. His name carried a chill, laced with tales of cold-blooded cruelty and ruthless savagery on the battlefield. Even the bravest warriors flinched at the mention of him, yet now, she was to be handed over to him—like a lamb led to slaughter, a peace offering in a bargain she had no part in making.

Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms as a slow, hot fury built in her chest. "Mai Martaba," she spat, the title twisting bitterly on her tongue. "Your own flesh and blood, traded away for a fragile peace that will shatter the moment that tyrant wants more."

It wasn't just her uncle's betrayal that twisted the knife; it was the silent, crushing betrayal of her own blood. Mairo's thoughts turned to her father, and a sharp, aching pain bloomed in her chest. "Baba..." The word escaped her lips, barely more than a breath, as if it might conjure him before her, ready to offer an answer. Tears stung her eyes, blurring the room into a hazy, suffocating blur. "How could you?" Her voice was fragile, cracking under the weight of betrayal. "Am I not your daughter? Is our family worth so little that you would trade me away for loyalty to the Emir?"

The questions hung in the air, heavy and unanswered, as if they were a plea to a father who was no longer the man she thought she knew.

She stood abruptly, unable to sit still as her emotions roiled within her. Pacing the room, Mairo's mind raced through possible escape routes, allies who might help her, anything to avoid the fate that had been decided for her.

"I won't be their pawn," she muttered, her voice hardening. "I will not marry that murderer."

She glanced at the window. The night sky taunted with its vast openness, the air thick with whispers of freedom. A plan began to form.

With swift, purposeful movements, Mairo slipped into the smaller adjoining room. Her heart raced as she gathered clothes, stuffing them into a makeshift bag fashioned from a bed sheet. She paused at her jewelry box, fingers hovering over the precious items. Practicality warred with sentiment as she selected a few pieces - some for their value, others for the memories they held.

Returning to the main chamber, Mairo surveyed her handiwork. The bundle was small, but it would have to do. She couldn't risk taking more and slowing herself down.

Next came the most crucial part of her plan. With deft hands, Mairo began knotting together sheets and sturdy pieces of clothing, creating a rope that she hoped would bear her weight. She secured one end to the heavy wooden plank from her ceiling, tugging it to ensure it would hold.

As she worked, Mairo's mind raced through possibilities. Where would she go? Who could she trust? It didn't matter. For now, she had to escape.

With the rope complete, Mairo slung her bundle across her body and approached the window. The cool night air caressed her face as she looked out over the darkened grounds. Fear and exhilaration mingled in her chest as she gripped the makeshift rope.

Taking a deep breath, Mairo swung her legs over the windowsill. She paused for a moment, drinking in what might be her last view of the only home she'd ever known. Then, with determination etched on her face, she began her descent.

The rope held, but Mairo's palms burned as she shimmied down the castle wall. Her heart pounded in her ears, every rustle of leaves sounding like approaching guards. About halfway down, her foot slipped, sending a small clay pot tumbling from a window ledge. It shattered on the ground with a crash that seemed deafening in the quiet night.

Mairo froze, certain she'd be discovered. But after a few tense moments of silence, she continued her descent, moving faster now. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she darted into the shadows, her form quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Meanwhile, Rimi was still outside Mairo's chamber door, her hand hovering hesitantly before she finally brought herself to knock. "My lady?" she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper. No response came from within.

She knocked again, a little louder this time. "Goggo Mairo?" Still nothing.

Worry creased Rimi's brow as she knocked a third time, her knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. The continued silence from within the room was unsettling. Rimi pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear any sound of movement.

"Perhaps she's fallen asleep," Rimi murmured to herself, trying to quell the unease growing in her chest. She knew how emotionally draining the confrontation with the Waziriya must have been for Mairo.

With a resigned sigh, Rimi turned to leave. She had taken only a few steps when a sudden sound froze her in her tracks - the distinct crash of breaking pottery coming from outside, somewhere below Mairo's window.

Rimi's heart leapt into her throat. That noise... it couldn't be a coincidence. Without further hesitation, she spun on her heel and rushed back to the door. This time, she didn't knock. Instead, she pushed it open, her eyes immediately drawn to the open window and the telltale rope of knotted fabric dangling from it.

The room was empty, Mairo nowhere to be seen. Rimi's gaze darted around the chamber, taking in the signs of hasty packing, before she hurried to the window. Leaning out, she peered into the darkness below, her mind reeling as the reality of Mairo's escape sank in.

The soft night breeze rustled the curtains, seeming to mock Rimi's predicament. She wrung her hands, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Oh, Mairo," she whispered, "what have you done?"

She stood frozen, heart pounding, torn between duty and loyalty. Rimi had followed Mairo through mischief before, sneaking treats from the kitchen and slipping out for forbidden strolls. But this... this was different.

Telling Lawal or even the Waziriya would ensure a swift response, but it would also mean betraying Mairo's trust and possibly subjecting her to harsh punishment. Yet, if Rimi remained silent and Mairo came to harm...

She peered again into the darkness below. The grounds were silent, offering no clue as to which direction Mairo might have fled. For a moment, Rimi considered calling out, but quickly thought better of it. Any noise might alert the guards, sealing Mairo's fate.

Her eyes fell on the small clay fragments on the floor—evidence of Mairo's hasty descent. Rimi knelt, gathering the pieces with trembling hands. She had to decide quickly; every moment that passed decreased the chance of finding Mairo before she got too far.

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