The door did not budge. Drexo hit it again, harder this time, the wood echoing through the empty corridor. "Is anyone there?" His voice came out sharper than he intended. It bounced back at him, hollow, unanswered.
Silence.
He pressed his forehead against the door, breathing slowly, trying to steady himself. The room suddenly felt smaller. The air, thicker. He stepped back, pacing. Once. Twice. Then it hit him.
"This isn't chance," he muttered under his breath. His jaw tightened. His eyes moved toward the window, then back to the door. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in, inch by inch.
"Friya." The name sat bitter on his tongue. He moved to the door again, this time quieter. Almost cautious. "Open the door," he said, lower now, controlled. "This isn't funny."
Nothing.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He turned away, exhaling sharply. The cloak he had prepared still hung over the chair, untouched now. The plan, the routine, the quiet excitement of the night, all of it collapsed into something ugly.
Something deliberate. The forest was restless that night. Leaves whispered against each other. The wind moved like it carried secrets. Even the shadows felt heavier, stretching longer than usual.
Maria stood still in the clearing. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, not out of fear, but habit. Her eyes scanned the darkness, sharp, expectant.
Then she heard it. A faint rustle. Her lips curved before she even saw the figure. "You are here, my love."
She stepped forward. But the moment the figure emerged into the dim light, her smile faded.
Not Drexo.
But Friya.
Maria stopped.
Everything inside her went still, like the world had paused just for that moment. "Lady Friya," she said, her voice steady, but not quite.
Friya's lips curved into something that looked like a smile, but didn't feel like one. "Were you waiting for my fiancé?"
The word landed hard.
Fiancé.
Maria felt it. Not just heard it. "I do not know what you are talking about," she replied, too quickly. Too clean.
Friya waved a hand, dismissive. "Oh, save me that." She stepped closer, her boots crunching softly against dry leaves. Each step felt measured. Intentional.
"The world already knows your dirty secret."
Maria's heartbeat picked up, loud in her ears. She forced herself not to step back. Not yet. But her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword.
Then she released it slowly. "If you know," Maria said, lifting her chin slightly, "why are you here?"
Friya stopped just a few steps away. Close enough. "I am here to inform you of your status."
Maria didn't move. She didn't blink. But something inside her braced. Friya tilted her head slightly, studying her. "You must have had a good time," she continued, her tone almost light. "All those nights. All that passion."
Maria's jaw tightened. "But that is all it will ever be." The words came softer this time.
Sharper too.
"Drexo has had many women," Friya went on, circling her slowly, like she was inspecting something. "You are only one of them."
Maria turned slightly, keeping her in view. Her chest rose and fell once, deeper than before. "He loves me," Maria said. This time, there was no hesitation. "What we have is special."
Friya laughed. Not loud. Not dramatic, just enough. "You are the best warrior I have ever seen," she said, almost thoughtfully. "That is why it surprises me how foolish you are."
That hit a cord in Maria's spin. Maria's eyes flared. Something dark flickered behind them. The air between them shifted.
Friya noticed. Of course she did. She stepped even closer now, close enough that their breaths nearly met. "If he loves you," she whispered, "where is he?"
Maria said nothing, her eyes flickered, just once, toward the path behind Friya.
Empty.
"Why didn't he show up?" Friya pressed.
Silence stretched.
Maria turned around. Drexo has never missed a night.
Then Friya smiled again, slow this time. "He won't."
She leaned back slightly, giving Maria space again, like she had already won something. "Because he belongs to me."
Maria swallowed. It was small. Barely noticeable. But it happened.
"You may continue," Friya went on, her voice turning colder now, "to give him your body for free."
Maria's fists clenched. "But I am the one he will marry." Each word landed heavier than the last. "You are only a mistress."
She paused for a breathe.
"A cheap one at that."
Maria's breath caught. For a second, just a second, it looked like she might strike, but she didn't.
Friya straightened her shoulders, brushing an imaginary speck from her sleeve. "If I were you," she added, almost casually, "I would have some respect for my name."
Then she turned. Just like that. No rush, no hesitation. Then she walked away. Leaves cracked under her feet, fading gradually as she disappeared into the darkness.
Maria didn't move, not immediately. She stood there, frozen in the clearing, staring at the place Friya had just been.
Her chest rose and fell. Slowly at first. Then deeper. Her hands were still clenched.
Then, slowly, she released them. The forest felt different now.
Quieter, and colder. The air immediately became uncomfortable to breath in. She turned her head slightly, eyes scanning the path again.
Nothing.
"Drexo!" she whispered. The name barely made it past her lips.
She waited. A minute, two, then ten. But Drexo didn't show up.
The night stretched on. The wind shifted direction. Leaves fell. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called. But he didn't come.
Maria turned at Every rustle of trees, thinking it was him, but it wasn't.
Maria took a step forward, then stopped. Her eyes moved again to the path.
Still nothing.
Her throat tightened. "He will come," she muttered, more to herself than anything else.
Another hour passed.
Then another. Time began to blur. The sky darkened further, stars shifting slowly overhead. Her legs started to ache, but she didn't sit. She didn't move. She just waited.
At some point, she realized her hands were trembling. She clenched them again. Forced them still. "He will come." But the words didn't sound as strong this time.
Hours passed. The night grew deeper, then quieter. The kind of quiet that presses against your ears. Still, he didn't come.
Maria's eyes slowly lowered. The realization didn't hit all at once. It crept in.
Slow, and unwanted, yett certain.
"It is true," she whispered. Her voice broke slightly. "I am just one of the many." The words tasted bitter. Her chest tightened. For a moment, it looked like she might cry. But she didn't. Instead, her jaw hardened. Her shoulders straightened. The warrior returned.
Or at least, something like her. She wiped at her face quickly, even though there were barely any tears.
Then she turned. Each step away from the clearing felt heavier than the last. But she didn't stop. Not once. By the time the first hint of dawn touched the sky, Maria was already gone.