Chapter 3 Escape Plan

• Three days.
• Three whole days in this damp, drafty cell, and still no news from Elsinora’s Royal Uterus Experiment.
• Kayne sat hunched on the edge of the cold stone bench, muttering insults under his breath like a cranky spellbook. His ankles were shackled—“For your own safety,” they said—but mostly, he suspected, it was so he couldn’t kick someone in the face. Reasonable. He had tried once.
• He scowled at the tiny barred window above him. “She drinks the potion, and I’m the one locked up like some piece of chewed gum?! I’m the inventor! The surrogate! The freaking miracle!”
• No one laughed. No one was there.
• But Kayne cringed. “Ah, I can't believe I just said that to myself,” he shrank.
• They’d fed him nothing but broth and stale bread “to preserve the baby,” which was honestly more insulting than helpful. He poked his mildly swollen belly, still flat-ish but soft like undercooked dough. “You better be magical enough to shoot fireballs, kid,” he whispered. “Because your life depends on it, and it's all your fault.”
• He flinched as the iron door creaked open. Heavy footsteps. Familiar.
• “About time,” Kayne grumbled, standing with difficulty. “Let me guess. Her Royal Majesticness is glowing and wants to name the child after herself.”
• Virgil Bones stepped into the room, eyes shadowed under his helm. His usual teasing smirk was absent. That was never good.
• “Kayne…” Virgil’s voice was tight. Too tight.
• Kayne’s stomach twisted. “No. No, no, no—don’t make that face. That’s the ‘I just buried your cat’ face.”
• Virgil didn’t respond.
• Kayne sat down hard. “It didn’t work, did it?”
• “…No.”
• Kayne threw his hands up. “Of course not. Of course it didn’t work.”
• “Why me?” He collapsed onto his side, groaning. “If I had fed it to a rat first or something, this wouldn't have happened.
• Virgil’s eyes were gentle but firm. “It’s confirmed that the enchantment imprints on the first living thing that makes contact. In this case, you. Elsinora wanted a quick fix….”
• Kayne drew in a shuddering breath. “So now she’s going to butcher me for a transplant.”
• Virgil set his jaw. “Yes. She’s ordered your stomach torn open and the child removed.”
• Kayne staggered to his feet. “That crazy, unhinged queen. What's so special about this kid anyway? Urghh—my life is over.”
• Virgil stood, unsheathing a small knife. “Then let’s get you out of here.”
• “What?”
• Kayne blinked. “…Wait. You’re helping me?”
• Virgil smirked faintly. “Don’t get weepy about it.”
• “Oh, I’m already hormonal. It’s not weepy, it’s maternal rage.” He scrambled to his feet. “How?”
• “I’ve got a horse. Distraction’s set. But we need to move. Now.”
• “Brilliant.” Kayne’s face lit up as Virgil began unshackling him. “Damn, I could kiss you.”
• “Don’t.”
• “Relax. I meant metaphorically.” A bit. “Unless you’d like—”
• “Move,” Virgil barked, clearly regretting everything.
• They slipped through a servant’s corridor Virgil had memorized during one of his many palace guard rotations. Kayne stayed behind him, muttering warding spells and nearly tripping on his own robes.
• They were halfway to the stables when—
• “Going somewhere?”
• They froze.
• Runa Thorne stood in the passage, sword drawn but not raised, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Her gaze darted between Kayne’s half-buttoned tunic, his squishy stomach, and Virgil’s guilty expression.
• “Oh,” she said, arching a brow. “How romantic.”
• “Runa,” Virgil said carefully, “it’s not what it looks like.”
• “Really?” she asked, voice flat. “Because it looks like you’re helping the Queen’s womb-thief escape execution.”
• Kayne blinked. “Womb-thief?! Seriously? I invented the thing!”
• Runa didn’t laugh. “Do you know what happens to us if we get caught?”
• “Do you know what happens to me if you don’t move your very attractive but inconveniently loyal arse out of the way?” Kayne shot back.
• Virgil stepped between them. “Runa, please. You don’t understand. They’re going to cut him open. He’ll die.”
• “And if we disobey orders, we die.”
• There was a tense silence. Kayne watched her face, saw the internal war she tried so hard not to show. She glanced at Virgil. His eyes, sincere. Protective.
• Her jaw tensed. Her fingers clenched around her sword.
• But she stepped aside.
• “Five minutes,” she muttered. “Then I raise the alarm. That’s all I can give.”
• Kayne blinked. “You’re—seriously? I—thank you. Thank you.”
• “Don’t make me regret it,” she snapped.
• “Oh, I will. Constantly.”
• They ran. As fast as they could to the stable, quickly grabbing a black stallion.
• Kayne swung into the saddle with effort—his center of gravity had changed dramatically. “Ugh, why does everything involve horseback? Why can’t we have a getaway carriage like normal rebels?”
• “Whiny much?”
• “Shut up.”
• And behind them, the palace stirred. But for now, Kayne was still free.
• They’d barely reached the outer walls of the castle block when a panicked voice called out.
• “Oh shit! Mother of Light Kingdom, I'm coming with you!”
• Runa Thorne barreled around the corner, armor clanking, hair disheveled. For a heartbeat they just stared—Kayne glaring at her boots, Virgil at her expression of wide-eyed crisis.
• “Runa—” Virgil began.
• “Don’t even start,” she panted, sliding to a stop beside them. “I—uh —I got, like, very worried... for both of you.” She shoved her helmet on crookedly. “Also, I kind of—fine, I have to come. It’s protocol! I’m protectingg the crown…baby…the crown prince in him. And you, Virgil. Obviously.”
• Kayne rubbed his temples. “Your excuse is… solid?”
• She squared her shoulders. “Urgh, fine! If I stayed behind, I'd be dead. They'll know I let you out.”
• Virgil smiled warmly at Runa. Her colored cheeks flushed red.
• “I guess there are two more traitors to the light kingdom.” He stretched out his hand, which Runa took with grace.
• “Hop on the ride. There's not much time.”
• “Wait!”
• “What is it now, Kayne?”
• Kayne hurriedly climbed down the horse, his stomach churning.
• “I have to puke. Bleughh.”
• “Oh my—Kayne!”
• “It's rainbow fluid; you'll be fine.”
• “Heavens, no!”
• —