I have been pacing the room ever since I returned from duty.
It has been over an hour.
She should have been back by now.
The thought of something happening to her claws at my chest, driving me insane. I press a hand over my heart, trying to slow it, trying to breathe.
Calm down.
I give myself one hour. One.
If she doesn't return, I am storming straight into that king's chambers to retrieve my friend. And if he has touched her the wrong way—
I will kill him myself.
I drop onto the old, ragged single couch in our cramped room, shifting restlessly, unable to sit still. At some point exhaustion wins. My eyes close.
When I wake, it's with a sharp jolt.
The room is empty.
"Anna?" My voice comes out strained.
She isn't here.
Then I hear it—horses, distant but unmistakable. I rush to the window and my breath catches.
The black carriage of the King of Ares is rolling toward the gates.
Panic explodes inside me.
What if he kidnapped her?
What if something worse—
I bolt upright and run.
How useless I am. How could I have slept when she didn't return? If our positions were reversed, she would have torn the palace apart looking for me.
I promised the late Queen I would protect her with my life.
And look at me.
The first place I run to is the king's chamber. I don't knock. I burst in—
And freeze.
Anna lies in the king's bed, wrapped in white sheets, sleeping peacefully.
My knees give out. I collapse to the floor, muffling my sobs with my hand.
Why is she here?
Why is she in his bed?
Then it hits me.
The scent.
Magic—masked, deliberately disguised. Beneath it, the unmistakable residue of aphrodisiac, dulled but still present. I would recognize it anywhere.
I am a witch.
And whoever did this knows exactly how to hide.
There is another witch within these castle walls—one powerful enough to blend compelling magic into scent itself, subtle and cruel.
How did I miss this?
Later. I'll punish myself later.
Right now, I have to get Anna out of here—before anyone sees her like this. Before they see her scarred face.
We would be dead.
I hurry to her side and try to wake her.
Nothing.
Anna is a light sleeper. Always has been.
Fear tightens its grip around my throat.
"Anna," I whisper urgently, shaking her gently.
She murmurs something about being exhausted and sinks back into sleep.
Dawn is coming.
I race to the closet, grab the first shirt I touch, and rush back. I pull the sheet aside—
And my heart sinks.
We are in deep trouble.
Something happened. No doubt about it. But whoever planned this didn't expect her to be taken so early.
I dress her as fast as I can, lift her weak body onto my back, and take the hidden passage—the one only we know.
It was our escape route when she wanted to avoid tutors. A secret gifted by the late Queen, when this room was mine alone.
We make it back safely.
I lay her on the bed and rush to my drawer for herbs.
Compelling magic bends thoughts—but only for a limited time. Judging by the residue, whoever cast it still has hours of control left.
Breaking it is my specialty.
I don't know where my life would have gone if the Queen hadn't brought me here. Before that, I trained for a full year just to disguise my silver hair and eyes—marks of my kind.
The Queen herself was a witch. She hid her nature carefully.
And Anna—those silver eyes flecked with gold—the Queen had to brew a poison just to hide them. Her hair looks ordinary, but power doesn't always show itself early.
Anna knows only that I am different. She has never pushed for more.
The potion is ready.
Moments later, her eyes flutter open.
I rush to her side. My skin prickles—time is running out.
She winces as she sits up.
"Don't move," I say urgently, then soften. "I'm sorry."
She drinks without question. Trusts me.
She stands too quickly, sways. I reach out but she stops me, squeezes her eyes shut—
When she opens them again, they're clear.
Thank the stars.
"What's happening?" she asks hoarsely.
That voice confirms it—we are already too late.
"We'll talk later," I say quickly. "Let me fix your face and eyes first."
She doesn't argue.
I work fast—eyes first, then the fermented grape mixture and dark fruits. There's no time to explain.
Just as she slips into her gown—
The door slams open so hard the walls shake.
I tie the last lace and stand with her.
Elizabeth.
She stands there smiling like a devil, sickeningly pleased.
Anna stares at her sister, unfocused. My heart stutters.
Is she still under the spell?
I step in front of her instinctively.
"Good morning," Elizabeth purrs. "You look like you had quite the night."
Her words die as the Queen enters—Cynthia trailing behind her as always.
My blood runs cold.
The Queen fixes her gaze on me.
"Move."
I don't.
Her hand lifts to strike—
Anna pulls me behind her.
She's pretending.
She meets my eyes briefly—stay out of this.
I won't.
She faces the Queen.
"You know what you've done," she says, her voice trembling with fury. "You drugged me. You forced me to sleep with a stranger."
Tears burn my eyes.
"You took my family. My peace. My freedom. And now this." Her voice cracks. "What else do you want from me?"
Silence.
"I stayed quiet. I endured everything. I let you reduce me to a maid. I never fought you." She screams now. "I am the only child of the King and the true Queen of Vosca!"
The slap comes.
Hard.
But it hurts less than the wound tearing through her heart.
Then the King speaks.
"Since you are the rightful heir, you will marry the King of Ares—after all, you have already opened your legs to him."
My world tilts.
So that was it.
She was drugged to force this—to stain her, trap her, replace Elizabeth.
"No!" she shouts. "I did not sleep with him! I will not be your sacrifice!"
Then his words come—sharp, cruel, familiar.
"You are a whore. Just like your mother."
Anna lunges.
The whip strikes first.
She collapses to her knees.
I scream, fighting the guards holding me back.
Whips rain down.
I can't count them.
By the time they stop, she is numb—empty.
"You leave in five days," the King says coldly and walks out.
They follow.
I barely hear anything as she slips into unconsciousness.
I hold her, sobbing, begging her not to leave me.
Careful not to touch her wounds.
She doesn't respond.
And for the first time, I am terrified that I am too late.