The fleeing dove slumped to the ground, red blooming across its pure fur.

Myriads of actions fought for my first reaction. Did I yell? Did I run to the dead bird, clinging to the possibility it was only playing dead? Did I stare at Zhen of Khuyal, just as unreadably as he stared at me?

Jingyi relieved me of the burden of choice. "And what are you doing here?" she called, placing an arm on my shoulder. Her eyes briefly flickered to my hands trembling with shock not yet relayed to the rest of my body. I clenched my fingers, begging them to stay still.

Zhen raised his chin; it was a discreet act of petty defiance that elicited a snort from the woman's nose. "You shot the arrow wrong," he informed across his precautionary distance from the deadly weapon in my hands.

There was a questioning curl to his tone, as if he wanted to address the absurdity of our arrangement but was too mannerly to do so.

"I'm sorry," I breathed, my brows tense and my lips pressed in an apologetic line as I shook my head. I couldn't bare the thought that I was already taking lives — I wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of the lifeless bird before me. Because if it really was dead, my days of innocence were once and for all behind me. "It— I didn't—"

The damp grass screeched under the soles of his shoes as he stepped into the lousily fenced area. Something twitched in my chest, the electricity of shame zapping my limbs as Zhen approached me. He wouldn't look at me. It seemed like some kind of godly intervention that he didn't.

My eyes didn't share the aversion of his. They shadowed the boy with chilling precision, noting his every move, constantly reminding me that his skin was warm and his eyes alert and that I would have to change that. I was grateful he didn't return the stare; the guilt was already starting to consume me.

When he stood before me, he reached his hand out. It was surprisingly still. It was clear he didn't want to speak another word to me, so I hastily dropped the weapon in his hands and wished the blood it had shed would transfer over to him, too.

"The arrow will do the bow's bidding," he said, taking an arrow from an amused Jingyi's hand. "Tama kir tamabar. That is what my parents always wrote in their letters."

"Try not to try," Jingyi translated through a smile.

It felt as if another thread of my sanity snapped. "Tama kir tamabar," I echoed. "That is Kasan, isn't it?" It was an obsolete language that only served proverbs and dusty bureaucratic books nowadays; ever since the Ashaban Empire tore through Kasa's culture, it had never been spoken again.

"What an educational exile your clan is enjoying!" Jingyi said.

The boy's only reply was a defying jerk of his brow. He lifted the bow and let the breeze gently shut his eyes.

"Come on, now." Jingyi placed her hands on her waist, that bitter amusement never leaving her tone. "You are showing off."

The concision of his movements proved otherwise. Jingyi had been quick with the exhibition of her own skill, yet Zhen seemed relaxed, at peace. Trying not to try. Only a moment later, the arrow shoved its way through the air and stabbed the yellow-painted circle.

My skin pulsed. That might as well have been my confidence.

Jingyi raised her brows, inclining her head in acknowledgment. "Impressive. But you did not hit the center."

"That was never the point."

She crossed her arms, snatching the weapon from his grip. "Is that what you came here for? To spout your sophistries?"

Zhen readjusted his raven coat as he eyed the woman apathetically. Were they old friends? Old lovers? No regular noble would confront royalty with that much nerve.

At last, he shook his head. "A letter arrived. Ambassadors from Aman should arrive this evening. His majesty wished for you to know."

The coolheaded look on Jingyi's face quickly hardened into stone. She grabbed the ribbons of her coat, wrapping it tighter against her slender figure as she slowly turned towards me. "You shall go get ready. For everything."

I nodded hesitantly, glancing between the two suddenly somber figures. "Alright," I whispered. A horrible omen hung in the air, and before it could disarm me, too, I fell into a quick bow and walked away from the scene.

"One more thing."

I twisted my head, meeting two fawn eyes that had avoided me before.

"Wear black tonight," he said.

❧

The throne room looked different under the soft luster of the moon. The colors seemed paler, more forlorn, a nostalgia the candles perched atop the intricate candlesticks couldn't shine away. A sea of sparkling black fabrics swayed into local dances and respectful bows, the sequins stitched onto them winking in sight of the luminous lighting.

My borrowed dress wasn't exempt from the wax's pale glow. A tight jacket drenched in golden swirls had been fitted around my torso like a second ribcage, covering the ugly scar across my neck that no noble wanted to witness. A sparkling metal belt coiled around my waist, as if the garment was in any risk of escaping the confines of its skeleton. The skin of my legs brushed against the incredibly soft texture of the silk skirt dangling under the jacket as I took hesitant steps across the hall's floor.

In the span of a few hours, the dizziness that had haunted my every move vanished. It felt as if it was reaped from my mind with a scythe, leaving behind only a remnant of foreboding that regarded the questionable void in me suspiciously.

And, although I wasn't in any tormenting pain anymore, worry bubbled inside me. Could it be considered the calm before the storm if my heart found no calm in the first place?

Merely thinking about how long this would go on made my chest writhe with bleakness. My whole life I waited for tomorrow, knowing well all tomorrows held the same work, the same customary smiles, the same hunger. But like I fool, I waited. I waited with hope clumsily stitched to my misery. I waited with feigned anticipation, smothering the knowledge that my life was no less pitiful than that of the bugs I slept next to. I waited for my father to materialize before me as I washed the cloths with my tears and blood and take me back to the only place I ever belonged.

All I knew how to do was to wait, wait and pretend. And now, walking the tiles of the holiest place of the empire, foolishly hoping I would finally live a life I would be proud of, I realized that that was all that awaited me here, too.

What a fool I was, thinking a few flakes of gold could change anything about me that mattered.

"Right here, gentlemen!" beamed the last voice I wanted to hear. I looked behind my shoulder, my lips tight and my gaze yielded to the burden I somehow thought I could carry.

Not surprisingly, Erhan had not been informed of the all-black dress code — that or he couldn't care less. In fact, his attire betrayed he had gone out of his way to come as frustratingly close to the color as he could without aligning himself with the Ashaban Empire. Recalling Jingyi's sour deadpan when she had been told of the ambassadors' visit, I suspected why. His heavy crimson coat lined with brown fur was a little tone-deaf to the weather and the dull plum-colored clothes beneath it contrasted jarringly with the Ashaban whirls of silver embroidered on the overgarment. He wasn't a noble of the Keiha palace anymore; he was a Khanian diplomat, and I was his woeful understudy.

Erhan's arm slipped across my shoulder, squeezing my body with the same fervor lingering in his chuckle. "Lady Yumi, these gentlemen are diplomats like us."

Two tan men flanked the enchanter, sporting ruffly silk shirts overlayed by sturdy coats. Their colors almost made me flinch; deep yellow and lively lilac, possibly the most inconspicuous combination they could have selected. A quick thought later, I felt lucky they didn't show up in military wear instead.

One of them squeezed my hand, his smile as tight as his grip. "Byrrus," he announced warmly. "This is my friend, Laus."

"Nice to meet you," I muttered. I had never met anyone from Aman; it was so far away, so disconnected. Ashaba never seemed too keen on them, either. I never cared enough to follow our country's diplomatic path to world domination, but the shrunk stance of everyone standing within arm's length of the men suggested it had been derailed by a certain nation.

"Has this preposterous man taught you to be quiet?" Laus laughed, a conspiratorial arch to his brow. "I am afraid he is trying to sabotage your career!"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "It's better to stay silent when you have nothing to say," I said a little more defensively than I intended. Erhan had told me to be quiet. How he thought that would work while pretending I was some kind of young diplomatic prodigy, I still wasn't sure.

"Silence is an art, but so is talking the sense out of a man." Byrrus took a sip from the dark liquid sloshing against the walls of his cup. "It is good that you came to Ashaba for your first mission. People here, they speak too much and think too little."

"Just like I'm supposed to do?"

Erhan's palm squeezed my shoulder as the mens' shocked laughter echoed across the throne room. No lavishly embellished head turned our way; they wouldn't spare any attention for their perceived enemy.

Byrrus glanced at his companion with a nostalgic simper, as if we were holding a chipped painting of his late family. "You have a lot to learn, Lady Yumi. Yet the only person you need to bear such honesty towards is yourself."

I stared. Since when was sincerity a part of diplomacy? All I knew about the practice was that people lied to other people until they achieved a form of blissful ignorance that allowed the victims to make foolishly generous decisions.

But as the man held my gaze with more meaning than any of his words held, the message became clearer. He wasn't referring to negotiation or Ashaba or anything our discussion contained. His words were aimed at me and my survival, as if the forgotten Saints had grown weary of my failure and decided to send a messenger on earth to warn me of impending doom. It didn't matter if I told the truth to anyone. As long as I knew the veracity of my situation, nobody else had to.

A shiver trickled down my spine. He knew something was off.

There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask. Byrrus was the first person who showed a drop of understanding for the mess I had gotten myself into without knowing anything about it, and as his smile turned into a farewell one, I felt the last bit of sense in this court slipping through my fingers like sand. "Well," he sighed, "we must fulfill the purpose of our visit. The emperor awaits."

I swallowed down any rush words that would have slipped out of my mouth otherwise. "And what is that?" I finally asked, hoping to delay their departure.

"No need to pry," the enchanter gushed lightheartedly.

"Ashaban troops stepped into our land," Laus said simply, as if he was ordering a cup of zioniv. "They were camping."

Byrrus emptied the wine into his mouth with a bold gulp and nodded with dread. "Wish us luck. And please, friends, remember that Aman will always welcome you."

And after delivering their omen to our hands, the diplomats paced towards the glinting thrones raised above everyone else.

The music dragged on, escalating into obnoxiously loud notes and shrilling trills that the court seemed to enjoy a little too much. The last thing I needed was Erhan's unfailingly bright grin in my face, especially when I could sense the nagging complaints about my outspokenness brewing behind his lips.

"You look... fine," he commented.

I turned to face him fully. His curly hair was brushed back and I was quite sure someone had thrown powder on his face — the little mole under his eye was faded. The rich fur lining his coat made any other Ashaban garment he had worn look like rags. He looked fine, too. Deceptively fine.

The morning before the dinner returned to my mind uninvited, and what was previously a note of uneasiness quickly bloated into a hasty pulse and a tremor to my limbs. "You're just saying that."

"Well, at least allow me to be polite, darling."

I sighed, and something in my chest rattled that shouldn't have. "I don't feel well, Erhan. Something strange is happening to me."

He hummed, sipping his drink in feigned innocence. "Must be the change of environment."

"What I mean is, I don't think I can do this."

That seemed to capture his attention. He narrowed his lips and gave me a long stare, allowing me time to rethink my statement. I didn't. My insides felt so rotten that speaking another insincere word seemed unattainable. "Are we still not over this?" Erhan said disbelievingly. "You chose this."

"Can't you see I'm deteriorating?" I hissed. "I'm not meant to be here. I'm not meant to be doing this."

"I am quite sure the setting isn't the cause of your plight."

"Really? Because ever since I met you everything has gone wrong."

He huffed a laugh and leaned closer to me. "Blame your Saints for all of this if you need to, dear, not me. All I did was save your life and offer you a chance to start over. And this is what I get in return?"

"What were you expecting, congratulations? You ruined my life!"

"No, Yumi. You ruined your life." His eyes were hard like polished amber as he scanned me with some level of disdain, maybe even pity. "Don't you dare pin this on me."

I shook my head, desperately trying to convey an emotion so raw and foreign that not even I fully understood. The room seemed to shrink down on me and my breaths became labored as I paced away from Erhan, frantic for some space of my own. He followed suit, slipping past the crowd with decisive quickness. "Stop running from this," he called behind me. But I didn't listen; I grabbed my skirt and rushed across the throne room with no specific destination. Every emotion, every word I had swallowed was scurrying back up my stomach in a wave of nausea that made it difficult not to trip and fall.

Deep within me, I knew I was the only one to blame. I knew that I shook Erhan's hand willingly and that at that moment I deeply believed it was an act of humble but necessary sacrifice. And I also knew that he was correct; I ruined my own life, if that torment could have been called life in the first place. My pulse quickened, a bomb that kept ticking faster to its doom, and so did my step, until a hand tore my shoulder around and forced me to face my horrid reality.

"Stop," Erhan repeated, a little quieter this time. "Trust me when I say that if I could call this deal off right now, I would."

I shook my head, my gaze hazy. "You can't?"

He regarded me carefully, as if hesitant to cross a line I once explicitly stated I didn't want crossed. "An enchanter's deal is fate. Nature itself will make sure it happens," — he paused to raise his brows — "or that it is broken."

My heart fluttered. "How do I break it?" I uttered.

Erhan smiled grimly. "One of the people involved has to die."

The flutter of my chest turned into a heavy ache no remedy could cure, crushing any last pitiful hint of hope lurking within my ignorance. The dizziness returned, and so did the fear, the anger, every emotion my pain had numbed. "No," I whispered. My eyes hopelessly stung and my lips tightened and slacked like a broken mousetrap, leaving little room for words. "What have I done?"

And before the realization of my doom could drop my heart any lower in the depths of despair, a sudden roaring crash tore the air and a wave of searing fire burst through stone and glass.

❧

Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to support me, please vote and comment <3