I hit the wet gravel shoulder-first, tucking my chin tight to my chest and rolling through the momentum.

Sharp pain flared in my left ankle, but the joint held.

I scramble to my feet, the damp earth clinging to my formal silk trousers.

To my right, the high boxwood hedges of the palace maze loomed like solid black walls.

I didn’t look back at the balcony.

I focused on the sound of rapid footsteps crunching on gravel ahead, fading into the labyrinth.

Vance had a fifty-yard lead, but he was wearing heavy dress shoes and carrying a leather briefcase.

My evening flats had rubber soles, a tactical choice I made before leaving the hotel.

I memorized the maze layout from the satellite photos in my briefing folder.

The outer ring had three major branch points before it constricted toward the central sundial.

If Vance was heading for the south gate, he would take the second left to bypass the main garden pool.

I sprinted down the damp gravel path, keeping my steps light to muffle the sound.

The cold night air burned my throat.