The moon bathed the royal garden in silver light, casting a soft glow upon the intertwining vines and the wild roses that lined the gravel paths. The night air was sweet with the scent of jasmine, thick and intoxicating, as if the world itself was conspiring to create the perfect illusion of serenity.
In the heart of that garden, beneath a towering willow, Darius held Odi close—his arms strong around her waist, his lips pressed to her neck as if he was breathing her in. The silk of her borrowed gown pooled at her feet, her hair a halo of dark waves against the pale shimmer of his royal tunic.
They were tangled in a moment neither of them wanted to end.
But they were not alone.
From the edge of the courtyard, shrouded in the shadows of a sculpted archway, Princess Ariana stood frozen, her manicured hands clenched into trembling fists. Her eyes, once wide with disbelief, now burned with unfiltered rage.
She watched as Darius leaned into Odi, kissing her again with a passion that twisted Ariana's heart into something bitter and vengeful. She had been raised to believe that she would be queen. Trained to smile, to curtsy, to laugh gently at the king's jokes, to bear his heirs and bring pride to the kingdom.
And now, the king—her king—was wrapped around a slave?
A common thief?
Ariana's breath caught, her body trembling with fury. She spun around so fast the hem of her satin gown snagged on a thornbush, tearing the delicate fabric. She didn't care. She needed to act.
She needed them all to know.
The next morning, the castle was abuzz with whispers. Gossip spread faster than fire in a dry field.
"The king was seen—seen—in the garden with the girl."
"Not just seen. They were… you know…"
"Someone said they heard her moaning. In the royal garden! At night!"
"Disgraceful. Unthinkable."
"She's bewitched him. That must be it."
Ariana had made sure the story was delivered to the council by sunrise.
And now, inside the high-domed council chamber, the elders gathered—gray-bearded men, a few steel-haired women, all draped in ceremonial robes that smelled faintly of old incense and older judgment.
When Darius entered the room, he didn't look the least bit perturbed.
He wore a dark tunic, his crown tilted back casually on his head, his eyes alert but unreadable. He strode in like he owned the room—because he did.
The council stood in reverence as tradition demanded, but the tension was thick as wet cloth.
"Your Majesty," said Lord Greaves, the oldest of the council. "There are… troubling rumors spreading through the kingdom."
Darius raised a brow and approached the long table that separated him from them. "Rumors?" he said, his voice calm, smooth.
"About your relations with a certain girl," Greaves continued. "A slave girl. One who has not yet been granted her freedom by law."
Murmurs followed the statement like an echo.
Darius didn't flinch. He leaned on the table with both hands, his eyes scanning the room. "And what if the rumors are true?"
Gasps.
"Your Majesty," another elder piped up, "Surely you understand the implications. A king must uphold honor. Dignity. The court..."
"The court," Darius said, cutting him off, "is not my conscience."
He straightened, his tone sharp now. "Let me be clear. I answer to no one in matters of the heart. Not the court. Not tradition. Not whispers behind silk fans."
"Your Majesty—"
"I am king," Darius said, voice rising with regal authority. "Unless one of you feels bold enough to strip me of my crown, I suggest you remember that."
Silence fell like a blade.
Not one of them spoke.
Darius smirked slightly, then nodded. "Dismissed."
The council hesitated, but eventually filed out, leaving the king alone in the chamber.
The marble walls echoed their retreating footsteps.
Outside, word spread like wildfire. If the whispers had been rumors before, now they were declarations shouted from every corner of the kingdom.
"The King confirmed it!"
"He loves her!"
"He's gone mad!"
"She's bewitched him with dark magic, I swear it."
But Odi… Odi had not heard a word of it yet.
She sat alone in the servants' quarters, a quiet place tucked far from the grandeur of the palace. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, she was reminiscing the moments with Darius the previous night. It made her blush, made her wet and yearn for more. She had never felt that way in her entire life and it was good. She wish she could send him a letter back to meet her again at the royal garden tonight.
But she was shy, she didn't know how to go about it. She didn't want to be too forward.
A door slammed open behind her, startling Odi out of her thoughts.
"It's true," hissed a bitter voice.
Odi looked up to see one of the maids glaring at her, arms folded tightly across her chest.
"What?" Odi said, though her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"You and the king," the maid spat. "You think you're something now, don't you? Just because he kissed you under the stars."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"He'll tire of you. They always do."
More maids had gathered now, all looking at her like she was a sickness spreading through their world.
Odi stood, wild and angry, but then she realised she had actually done what she was accused of. Not just kissing, but love making. She didn't argue.
What could she say?
She stepped past them and walked out into the sunlight, ignoring their glares.
She needed to breathe.
She needed to find Darius.
Meanwhile, Ariana stood before a mirror in her chamber, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow.
"Stupid girl," she whispered. "Stupid girl."
She clutched the silk ribbon she had once embroidered with Darius's initials.
Her hands shook.
"They'll see," she muttered. "They'll all see. I will make her pay for humilating me this way."
And from the shadows behind her curtain, a voice replied.
"Them," said Heath, stepping into the light with a slow smile, "You will make them pay for humilating you this way."