---
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the man's dull voice resounded throughout the room.
Two girls huddled inside a cupboard, where Melinda desperately tended to her friend's wounded leg. Tears streamed down her face. *She was just starting to recover...*
In the darkness, Ethera wiped Melinda's tears and pulled her into a comforting hug.
"We've lost this battle, sister," she whispered.
"What?" Melinda's voice quivered, but Ethera quickly covered her mouth.
"Keep it down and listen. They won't leave until they've killed me. We're not strong enough to overpower them—not even you, the prodigy."
Melinda shook her head, already sensing where Ethera's words were leading.
"I promised to save you. Walter sacrificed himself for this. I'd rather die than—"
"If you die, then who will protect me?" Ethera interrupted softly. "Everyone's sacrifice would be in vain. My legs have given out for some reason; I'm just luggage now. Remember what we talked about before you left? I said I'd sacrifice myself again and again for you, just like I always have... for both of us."
Before Melinda could protest, Ethera stepped out of the cupboard.
"I'm here," she announced.
"Well, this I wasn't expecting," said the leader of the men, his smirk curling as he regarded her. "I thought I'd have to turn this place upside down."
"You're surprised?" Ethera replied coolly. "Not as much as me. I knew that voice was familiar, but I wasn't expecting you, Awin."
Awin smirked again. "Well, that's the essence of a surprise attack."
"Why?" Ethera's voice hardened. "Why kill your own uncle and his family?"
Awin scratched his head lazily. "It's nothing personal. Chastivy just happened to be a weed that needed uprooting."
Ethera clicked her tongue in disgust. "I didn't know you were interested in gardening."
"These days, I've been having trouble winning my father's favor. Then a little bird told me that the king was wary of his brother—you know, the one who was getting immensely popular with that secret mercenary group he commanded. Although, seeing how we wiped the floor with those so-called mercenaries, I'd say my father was worried for nothing."
"Really?" Ethera scoffed. "You say that like you didn't give them a mission to preoccupy them before attacking in their absence."
"You catch on quick, cousin. I'm almost sad I have to kill you now. But it's not my fault. Blame your luck—you were born into the wrong family."
Ethera bent down and broke the arrow lodged in her knee. "Really? Would you have spared me if I'd been born into your family and I was your sister?"
Awin's nonchalance vanished, replaced by a murderous glare. Before anyone could react, Ethera's head fell to the floor, her body collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Melinda suppressed a gasp, trembling in the darkness.
Awin stared at the twitching body of his cousin and spat, "Sister? I hate that word."
[End of Flashback]
---
Melinda wiped her tears with the sleeve of her dress and looked out of the window of her carriage. It was still hard to believe she now lived as the delicate daughter of a nameless noble, trailing behind the very man who had destroyed her family.
"How... how did I get here?" she muttered.
After Awin had taken everything from her, she'd tried desperately to restore the dukedom to its former glory. For five long years, she worked tirelessly, but it was all in vain. When the Force—the mercenary guild of the Chastivy house—finally disbanded, she'd been furious. Everyone had moved on so easily, while she was left to shoulder the loss alone.
Using the last of the Chastivy wealth, she bought a noble title and moved to the capital, determined to get closer to the king. Her goal was simple: kill Awin, who had become king only a year after massacring her home.
To achieve her plan, she donned the façade of a virtuous lady and allied herself with Sir Milton, one of the king's fiercest opponents. Every day as she worked by Milton's side as his aide, she saw Awin. And every day, she fought against the anguish, the pain, the overwhelming urge to lunge at him and sink a dagger into his chest.
Her hatred for him burned so intensely that it consumed her thoughts. But then, something unexpected happened. She went from hating the king to being intrigued by him. It wasn't until Qaya Wright entered the picture that she understood her feelings had shifted.
The first time she saw the king's gaze soften with love for Qaya, her heart ached. She didn't understand it at first. How could a monster look at someone that way? But soon, she found herself wishing she were the subject of his affection. She despised herself for it, but over time, she convinced herself that being the object of his desires would be the ultimate punishment.
"That would be the ultimate betrayal," she thought bitterly. "Breaking his heart in the most callous way..."
Yet, as her carriage rattled toward her residence, she wept bitterly. His engagement to Mahalia had shattered her. No matter how much she tried to rationalize it, she had to admit she was helplessly infatuated with the monster who had ruined her life.
---
"The sky shines."
"Yes, my love, it does," the woman replied, glancing down at her young daughter as they strolled through the bustling market, the orange evening sky casting a warm glow over them.
"Mother, you said Zajey is paradise, but I heard the wine seller say it's only paradise for the devil."
Her mother flinched. "What? How dare that woman say such a thing to a child? And what were you even doing with the wine seller in the first place?"
"Who's correct between you two? I placed my bet on you—you're never wrong."
"Are you ignoring me?" She let out a deep sigh and tried to relax. "Qaya, you're too much. Betting too? What did your dad say about gambling?"
"It's not gambling if you're certain," Qaya said with a grin.
"What? Heavens, I'll kill that man."
"I guess you won the bet… technically."
"What does that even mean?"
"Zajey is whatever you wish it to be. Some people call this place the devil's paradise, but your father and I work hard to make it *your* paradise."
"Thank you, Mummy." Qaya beamed up at her mother.
---
Mahalia woke up from her dream, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mummy?"
She reached out as if to grasp the woman in her dream. A mix of emotions surged within her as she lay on her bed. Her heart ached, but joy mingled with the sorrow. She had remembered how her mother looked, how her parents had shielded her from the harshness of the world. Thinking about Zajey made her break down into sobs.
Sitting up, she wiped her face and forced herself to focus. Something monumental had just happened—she had recollected a fragment of her past.
"That means I'll recover all my memories soon."
She frowned. "But how? What triggered it?"
Pushing the question aside, she scolded herself. "I've been so focused on other things that I forgot my original goal. How could I?" Her annoyance flared, but she quickly quelled it. Sulking wouldn't achieve anything. She had to work harder. She had the resources now—there were no excuses.
"I must find them as soon as possible," she resolved. "Riley Khantell... yes, her daughter might be able to help me. I'll find her—I *have* to."
---
Melinda's Residence
Servants scrambled in all directions, desperate to avoid their mistress's wrath. Melinda was like a wounded lioness, and anyone in her path was prey.
"Special! What's so special about that woman?" she spat. "First Qaya, now Mahalia... it's as if he'll fall in love with anyone except me!"
Her hands clenched into fists as her rage bubbled over. "I've followed his orders religiously, stayed by his side. Who could be better suited to be his wife? But no, I'm not *special* enough!" She shrieked in frustration.
"Water! Someone get me water!"
A maid rushed forward with a glass, trembling as she handed it to Melinda.
"What is this?!" Melinda hurled the glass to the floor, shattering it. "What do you take me for? I asked for water, and you give me this?"
The maid stammered, "I did—I gave you water, my lady."
"So I'm stupid now? A liar?"
The maid fell to her knees. "I apologize, my lady."
"Keep your apologies to yourself," Melinda snapped, kicking the woman aside.
Her mind churned with thoughts of vengeance. "I took Qaya out—I can take Mahalia out too."
"Butler!"
The man appeared almost instantly. "Yes, Master Melinda?"
"Get me someone to tail Mahalia. Now."
---
Zachary snaked his way through the crowded alleyway. His eyes caught a hooded figure following him. Hastening his steps, he quickly turned a corner. The hooded figure followed but lost sight of him. All of a sudden, Zachary grabbed and pushed him against the wall.
"I've had enough of this. Do you plan on stalking me forever?"
"Forgive me," the hooded figure begged. Zachary let go of him.
"I have a letter for you."
"So, Father finally decided to speak," Zachary muttered.
He read the letter, and his countenance quickly fell. His father was battling a sickness and feared he might die soon. The letter revealed that his father had kept this a secret, hidden even from his wife and other children.
"Why would he do that? Not tell the family?"
"The fight for the crown is quite fierce," the messenger replied. "Your father fears they might use his sickness as leverage in the battle for the throne. On top of that, we've been under attack lately, and we suspect King Awin to be responsible."
"How did I not hear of this? I thought it was agreed that my eldest sister would take the throne."
"Well, the other girls married ambitious men, I fear. Your father wishes for you to take the throne."
Zachary stared at the letter again. What was he to do? He had promised never to return to Occident Coast, let alone reclaim his position.
"How is Mother?" he asked, his voice cold yet tinged with fondness.
The messenger hesitated before clarifying. "Both of them?"
"Well, the queen has her hands full trying to stop her daughters from killing each other. Your mother… she still keeps to herself, but she's taken up landscape painting."
Zachary nodded. Nothing much had changed. His mind wandered back to his home, a place he had fought so hard to forget.
His whole life, people had tied his worth to his gender. They never bothered to hide their disdain for him. It was clear they considered him incompetent, believing he was made heir only because he was the sole male child. His relationship with his half-sisters had strained because they felt he had stolen from them. Being the child of a mistress only worsened matters—the queen despised him to the core.
The day he was made archduke, the queen had called him to her chamber.
"How are you enjoying the ceremony?" she asked.
His timid eyes strayed from her piercing gaze. "I don't know."
She scoffed. "Is that question too hard for you?"
He kept quiet, his eyes wandering around the dimly lit room.
"Tell me, is this question too hard? Do you wish to live a normal life?"
The statement shocked him. He turned toward his adoptive mother.
"I spoke to the king about making our eldest daughter archduke," she continued. "But he said there was no need because you were here—and I see that as a problem."
Zachary gulped and subconsciously distanced himself from her. She noticed and smiled.
"I will do you no harm, at least not the kind that will threaten your life. As much as I despise you, I am sane enough to know you're not at fault. That's why I'm addressing the problem at its root."
She pulled a lock of ginger hair from her dress pocket. "When was the last time you saw your mother? I heard she's staying in the countryside in a manor *my* husband pays for." She paused before continuing, eerily admiring the thick lock of hair.
"Not many people are blessed with such pretty hair," she said, waving the lock around before placing it in the boy's hand.
She stooped down and whispered in his ear, her words chilling. "I might be too generous and not just give you a lock of hair, but the whole head from which it grows."
Zachary stumbled and fell, his face contorted in fear. His head felt light, and his insides churned.
"Stand up," the queen yelled. But as much as he wanted to oblige her, his legs wouldn't move.
She crouched down and caressed his hair. "Do you wish to live a normal life? I believe the answer is yes."
The boy nodded.
"Zachary, an archduke cannot live a normal life."
That night, he hurried to his father's room. The man's face lit up at the sight of his son.
"Where were you? I was looking for you during the party."
"I don't want to be archduke," Zachary blurted out.
"What?"
"I'm much too young. Can't you make Sister the archduke?"
The king was quiet for a moment before motioning for his son to sit by his side. "I want you to be king. I can't live a long life because of my illness, so I want you to be prepared. I don't want you to be caught unawares."
"Why me? Why can't you give it to someone capable?"
The man hesitated. What he was about to say was too horrible for a parent to admit: that he loved Zachary more. He couldn't help it. Zachary was the son of the love of his life. He loved his other children, but things always felt rigid between them due to their mother's coldness and the lack of love in their marriage.
"If you're doing this because you love me, then you failed," Zachary said. "I can't breathe here. Everyone hates me. You used your love to pit me against my sisters. Why did you do this to me?"
The king looked alarmed as his son shook violently, tears streaming down his face. He pulled Zachary into a hug. "Zachary, calm down. Please, calm down."
"I don't want to be archduke. I don't want to stay here."
The king sighed and looked into his son's eyes. "I understand. I really do. But I also can't completely erase the chance of you being king. In my heart, I know you will be a better king."
"Father…"
"Calm down. You can relinquish your title—temporarily. I will let everyone know you've given it up. But I want you to keep the possibility open. All my children should have a fair chance at the throne."
Young Zachary was quiet. Though still a child, he knew his father well. The man wouldn't give up so easily, not even for him.
"Can you not let anyone know it's a temporary arrangement? I might never compete for the throne, after all."
The king sighed. "I will do that much for you."
---
"Your Highness…" The messenger broke Zachary out of his reverie.
"No one has called me that in a while."
"I understand if you want to reject the king's offer, but just once—"
"I accept."
"You do? Why?"
"Aren't you happy that I've finally agreed?"
"I am, but I'm also curious. What made you change your mind?"
"Well, my father is sick, and it seems he needs my help settling these issues. I realized that beyond loyalty to a benefactor, there's so much good that can be done—so many lives that can be changed when I sit in power."
The messenger stared at him, emotional as though he might burst into tears at any moment. They parted ways, and Zachary headed back to the palace.
He had business to take care of before leaving the king's side. The king might not agree to his departure, especially while planning his engagement.
"Ah, the engagement…" Zachary recalled the night of *L'oracle de la reine*. It was still fresh in his memory. He pitied Mahalia, now trapped with Awin. He hoped she would survive and break free from the trap. He wondered what would happen if he saw her again. Would she look at him with the same hatred she had for the king? Would she even care that he was leaving the king's side to be a better ruler for his people?
He didn't know the answers, nor why he was thinking about her. But he couldn't help feeling giddy at the thought of her reaction.
"Maybe now you won't look at me like I'm him."
To be continued...
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