The heavy doors of the throne room closed with a quiet thud behind Odi, but their echoes lingered in Darius' mind. He remained standing where she'd left him, his eyes fixed on the place she had stood, her final words still ringing in his ears.
"No. I don't have a man."
Those words meant more to him than he could express. A strange relief flooded through him, making him feel lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He had expected rejection, and in part, he had received it—Odi had not confessed any feelings of affection—but the knowledge that her heart did not already belong to someone else gave him hope.
He sat back down on the throne—not as a king, but as a man defeated and still foolishly dreaming. His thoughts drifted to the moments they had shared, brief and strained though they were. The way her eyes flickered when she was trying to hide her emotions, the slight tremor in her voice when she was unsure, the fire in her stance when she felt wronged. She was real. Unfiltered. And that, perhaps, was what he loved most.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a deep sigh.
"If there is any chance at all, I will find it," he whispered to himself.
***
Outside the throne room, Odi walked briskly through the hallway, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. The conversation she'd just had with King Darius had left her shaken—not by his offer, but by his honesty. He hadn't threatened her. He hadn't demanded her loyalty. He had simply given her a choice, and in doing so, disarmed her more than any show of power ever could.
And then, just as she turned a corner, she stopped short. Heath.
He was leaning against the marble wall, his arms folded, his eyes glittering with unreadable emotion. It was clear he had been there a while. Odi's instincts kicked in.
"Listening in on royal conversations, are we?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
He didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled—calm and eerie.
"I was merely...passing by," he said smoothly. "But interesting things always seem to happen when you're around."
Odi narrowed her eyes. "Is that so?"
He took a slow step forward. "You know, Ben wrote you a letter. Sweet boy. Very...loyal. Almost too loyal."
Her heart skipped. "How do you know about that?"
"Oh, Odi," he said with mock disappointment, "I know many things. Including the man who raised you. Oliver. A complex fellow, wouldn't you say? Brutal, yet effective."
Her stomach twisted. She took a step back, instinctively.
Heath's smirk widened. "It's just funny how your past seems to follow you like a shadow, even here in the palace."
"What do you want?"
He straightened, his face suddenly cold. "Nothing. Just passing by, as I said."
With that, he turned and walked away, his cloak swirling behind him.
Odi stood frozen for a few moments. Her pulse raced. There was something deeply unsettling about him. Not just his words, but the way he said them—as if he knew secrets she hadn't even uncovered yet. And the way he had casually mentioned Ben and Oliver... It wasn't a coincidence.
No, Heath was dangerous. She could feel it in her bones.
***
Upstairs, in the northern wing of the palace, Valerie's room was in chaos.
Books lay scattered across the floor, the drapes had caught fire and extinguished themselves, and the bedframe had been flipped sideways as if an unseen force had lifted it. In the middle of it all stood Valerie, wide-eyed and trembling, her palms glowing faintly blue.
"No, no, no," she whispered, shaking her hands as if trying to shake the magic out of them.
She hadn't meant to summon wind with her whisper. Or set fire with her touch. Or cause the chandelier to sway wildly overhead.
"Control it, Valerie," she muttered to herself, pacing. "You're not the villain. You're not the villain."
But deep inside, the fear still clawed at her.
Heath had always been the gifted one, the rightful sorcerer of the kingdom. That's what the scrolls had said. That's what the Council had believed. For years, she had buried her own talents, told herself they were accidents, misfired emotions.
Now they refused to be silenced.
She glanced in the mirror. Her reflection showed a girl whose eyes shimmered with raw power. And beneath that shimmer—a flicker of doubt.
What if the prophecy wasn't about Heath?
What if she was the threat?
A knock came at her door.
She quickly pulled her shawl over her shoulders, hiding her glowing skin.
"Come in," she said, trying to steady her breath.
A maid peeked in. "Your Highness, Princess Ariana is asking for you. She seems...impatient."
Valerie nodded. "Tell her I'll be down shortly."
As the door closed, Valerie turned to the mess of her room. With a trembling sigh, she waved her hand. The books flew back to the shelves, the bed corrected itself, and the drapes were repaired in an instant. Magic answered her without hesitation now. That frightened her more than anything.
***
Down in the grand hallway, Princess Ariana was strutting like a peacock.
"Where is she?" she demanded, glaring at every maid and guard who crossed her path. "Where is that little thief girl?"
A trembling maid curtsied. "I believe she's in the kitchen, Your Highness."
Ariana scoffed and stormed off.
The courtiers stepped aside as she passed. Her presence was a tempest—beautiful, blinding, and utterly destructive.
Behind her, Heath appeared, his hands folded neatly behind his back.
"You'll wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that," he said dryly.
She shot him a look. "You said you would handle it. I need Odi out of the way. She's crawling her way into his heart. I can see it."
Heath tilted his head. "Careful, Ariana. Jealousy doesn't suit you."
"This isn't jealousy," she snapped. "It's strategy. If Darius doesn't propose soon, the Council will grow suspicious. And I refuse to be made a fool by some peasant girl with big eyes and a tragic past."
Heath smirked. "Then let's continue with the plan."
" What if she's smarter than we think?"
Heath's smile faded. "She can't be smarter than I am, stop saying nonsense. we push harder."
***
Back in the servant's quarters, Odi finally reached the kitchen. The familiar sounds of pots clanging and vegetables being chopped greeted her ears. But the moment she stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
The other maids turned to her, eyes filled with disdain.
"Well, well, look who's finally back," one of them sneered.
She didn't owe them an explanation.
But as she scrubbed, she couldn't shake Heath's words. Or Darius' eyes. Or Ben's letter.
Too many threads, she thought. Too many people pulling at her in different directions.
And she was right in the middle of the web.
And somewhere, hidden behind masks and illusions, the real danger was growing.
Heath.
And possibly...herself.