In the far reaches of the Eastern province, within the damp halls of the secondary palace, Ben was wreaking havoc.
"Where is it?" he growled, flipping over another ornate chest.
The room he was in belonged to the High Advisor of the province, and Ben was certain he kept the map there—the one that would help him find the underground tunnels leading back to Darius' palace. Tunnels the royals used centuries ago, forgotten by most but not by thieves like Ben. He paused only when the door creaked.
"Ben," said a shaky voice.
He turned, eyes narrowing at the scrawny palace servant who dared disturb him. "You again?"
The boy held up his hands. "I-I won't tell. I swear. Just don't hurt me."
Ben sneered, stuffing the parchment into his tunic. "Good. Be a ghost, and maybe you'll live."
He slipped past the servant with ease, fading into the shadowed corridors. Soon, he'd return to the palace. And this time, he wouldn't be sneaking in just to send a letter to Odi.
The eastern palace library was nothing like the grand one in Darius' court, but it held what Ben needed—secrets. Dusty scrolls, forgotten laws, ink-stained pages filled with centuries-old decrees.
Ben slipped inside through the servant's passage, his stolen parchment carefully folded in his boot. He didn't have long. If anyone realized what he'd taken from the advisor's chamber, they'd double security.
The room was dim and musty, and as he lit a small oil lamp, shadows stretched across rows of books. He moved swiftly, scanning the spines, muttering under his breath.
"Free slaves… decrees… sanctuary…"
Finally, he found it. A scroll tucked behind others, the edges torn, the title faded:
"Royal Edict: Manumission Through Oath of Service"
Ben unrolled it and scanned. His heart pounded.
It was possible. A slave—if they pledged an oath directly to the king in service of the crown's protection—could earn freedom and immunity, so long as they brought "proof of treachery or risk to the kingdom."
His lips curled into a grin.
"Looks like I just found my ticket out."
But he wasn't smiling because of his freedom.
He was smiling because now, he had another plan.
He had a plan. One that would shake Darius' court to its core.
***
The morning sun filtered in through the high, barred windows of the servant quarters, casting long strips of gold across the stone floor. Odi scrubbed silently at the copper pot in her hands, her movements steady, her thoughts elsewhere.
She barely noticed when the other maids around her grew silent—until the hush became too loud to ignore.
"Letter for Odi," the royal guard announced.
He held it between two fingers like it was something dangerous. The parchment was sealed in wax—deep green, with the royal crest pressed into the center.
Odi froze.
Another letter?
The guard strode forward and set it carefully beside her on the table. Then he gave a small nod and left as quickly as he came.
Behind her, a chorus of whispers erupted.
"Wow, she's so lucky."
"I told you she's a whore. Probably got three men at once."
"Who even writes slaves?" someone muttered.
Odi didn't answer. She didn't flinch, didn't turn around. She dried her hands calmly, slowly, then picked up the letter and slipped out of the kitchen without a word.
They could talk.
She found a quiet corner in the lower garden—a place the other maids rarely ventured—and crouched beneath the fig tree where the shadows wrapped her like a cloak.
Her fingers trembled as she broke the seal.
Her name was written in that unmistakable hand. Darius.
Her heart knocked once.
Odi,
I'm not sending this to command you, or to ask for anything that isn't yours to give. But there's something I need to say to you, and I don't want to say it in the throne room, or with others watching.
Ifyou would meet me in the South Wing garden tonight, I'd be grateful. Just us. No guards, no titles.
If you don't come, I'll understand.
But if you do… bring only your honesty.
Darius.
Her first thought was to throw it into the fountain and never look back.
But her fingers clutched the parchment tighter.
She wasn't supposed to do this. She wasn't supposed to want to.
But gods, she did.
Some part of her—a reckless, breathing thing that had survived Oliver, survived the cages and the dirt and the shame—longed to see what that night might become.
She looked down at the parchment and closed her eyes.
"I'll break my own rules," she whispered.
Just once.
***
The air was tense when Odi walked into the royal gardens. Darius had asked to meet her privately. The moment their eyes met, she knew something had shifted in him.
"You came," he said, voice quieter than usual.
"You asked."
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without preamble, he stepped forward and kissed her.
Odi gasped at first, not expecting the warmth of his lips, the sudden pull of emotion. She froze—but only for a heartbeat. Then she kissed him back, her fingers brushing the fabric of his tunic as his arms wrapped around her.
When they broke apart, she was breathless.
"I tried," Darius murmured, "I really tried to hold it in. But gods, Odi, I can't pretend anymore."
She blinked. "Darius…"
He leaned his forehead against hers. "Every time I see you, my heart stops. I want you. Not as a servant, not as a thief. As you. Just you."
His words stirred something deep within her. For a moment, she let herself fall into it—the fantasy, the warmth, the need.
His hands reached for the ties of her dress, and as the fabric loosened, panic fluttered in her chest.
"Wait," she whispered, placing a hand on his chest.
He stilled immediately, searching her eyes. "What's wrong?"
Odi took a deep breath. "I've never… done this before."
His eyes widened. "You've never—"
She shook her head slowly. "Not once. Not with anyone."
Darius stared at her, stunned. Then, a smile formed on his lips—not mocking, but tender.
"Then I'm honored," he said gently. "But only if you want this. I won't rush you."
Odi hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. "I do. Just… slowly."
He kissed her again, this time with more care, guiding her gently to the blanket spread across the garden's hidden nook.
Their passion unfolded beneath the quiet hum of moonlight and roses. Words turned to whispers. Whispers to sighs.
And for the first time in her life, Odi gave herself to someone—not out of fear, not out of necessity—but out of choice.
When they lay together afterward, Darius pulled her close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her arm.
"Was it everything you imagined?" he asked, half-teasing.
She turned her head and smiled. "It was more."
He chuckled softly, then turned serious. "Whatever happens, I'm not letting you go, Odi. Even if the world turns against us."
She nodded, resting her head against his chest.
But in the quiet of her thoughts, she knew the world was already preparing to do just that.