---
The still, ominous darkness of the night hung over the palace, seeping into Mahalia's room.
For a long moment, there was such silence that the faint tick-tocking of a clock down the corridor could be heard.
Mahalia genuinely didn't know how to react to her visitor's presence. Was this good news, or did it spell doom?
After what felt like an eternity, Zarela gave a light smile and took a seat on Mahalia's bed, stunning her.
"How may I help you?" Mahalia finally managed to say. Her voice was stiff and anxious—it was clear she wasn't exactly comfortable with her guest.
"You don't seem happy to see me," Zarela said in a quiet but resolute tone. Her voice reminded Mahalia of cold, rich tea. "Dare I say... you look threatened."
Mahalia scoffed and perched on the dainty bedside table. She was worried, but with Zarela pointing it out so plainly, it was like she regained her footing.
"Does it appear that way?" Mahalia replied, her voice just as quiet. "I was just taken aback to see you—the woman Awin is frantically looking for."
Zarela chuckled softly, clearly impressed with herself. "I thought long and hard before coming here, so I'm certain you'll help me."
Mahalia gave her a quizzical look. "I don't quite follow."
"Mahalia... I'm Awin's sister."
"What?" Mahalia looked incredulous. Awin had a sister? Not once in either of her lives had he mentioned one. What exactly was going on?
"I know it's hard to believe. But it's true. While Awin wiped out the rest of our family, he spared me—because there's something he desperately needs from me."
Mahalia fell silent, mentally weighing whether this woman's story was worth entertaining.
She remembered the ceremony. Awin had never looked so rattled, and the news of Zarela going missing had thrown him into a frenzy. Maybe there was something here. Something she could use against him.
Zarela leaned closer, her voice dropping. The lamplight deepened the shadows on her face.
"What I'm about to tell you—no other soul except me, Awin, and now you—knows."
"And what is it?"
"I am the rightful heir to the throne. And before you ask—yes, he spared me only because I have something he needs. He can't kill me. Not yet."
Mahalia didn't look convinced. "So Awin just let you live, hoping one day you'd give him what he wants?"
"Of course not. His plan was to brainwash me into handing it over willingly."
Mahalia frowned. "How is that even possible?"
"He fed me the Oculus plant. I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's used to make someone docile. The royal guards once used it to tame wild dogs. Continued consumption... erases your memory."
By now, Mahalia was deep in thought. "So let me guess—you want to reclaim the throne, and you want my help."
Zarela laughed. "When you say it like that, you really downplay the gravity of it all."
"You can't blame me. This story of yours—I have no way to verify it. I'm expected to just trust you, so yes, downplaying the stakes makes me more comfortable."
"Wait... are you saying you'll help me?"
"Of course. The enemy of my enemy is a friend. But I need a guarantee—something that proves I'm making the right choice."
Zarela smiled, as if she'd been waiting for that. She reached into a hidden pocket in her dress and pulled out a small, unassuming box.
"This is my guarantee."
---
A few minutes later
The heavy shuffle of boots mingled with the murmurs of palace guards. They were tired, hungry, and frustrated.
Since the wedding ceremony—almost until midnight—they'd been searching for Zarela.
"Why must we go so far for a mere maid?" one guard grumbled, waving his torch across a corridor.
His companion, just returning from checking an empty room, smacked him on the head. "What kind of soldier questions orders?"
"Tch. Soldier? I'm a palace guard."
The other rolled his eyes and kept searching.
"I'm starving," the first groaned.
The second one glanced at him, visibly tempted. "The kitchen's probably closed. All we've got in our quarters is alcohol."
"Ugh. Don't even mention alcohol." He paused, then perked up. "The Parlour."
"What?"
"The Parlour. Where the king hosts his guests. I doubt they've cleared the food. There might still be something left."
"You want us to what?"
"If you don't have the guts, just say so. I'm starving."
With that, he headed toward the Parlour. After only a moment of hesitation, his companion followed.
They meant to eat and then (maybe) resume their search.
But when they arrived, they found Zarela—unconscious on the floor.
They were thrilled—they'd finally found her. Though now, they weren't sure if this meant they could eat after all.
---
Meanwhile, in Mahalia's room
Mahalia paced the floor, deep in thought. This was huge. Awin had a weakness—and now she knew it. But could she exploit it?
She sank onto her bed and sighed. This could change everything.
And yet… one thing Zarela had said kept circling in her mind:
"He fed me the Oculus plant… and it essentially wipes your memory after continued consumption."
Mahalia had never recalled anything from her life in Porto Jamon. Did Awin feed her the plant too?
She was almost certain.
But when she'd asked Zarela how she got her memory back, what the woman said had stuck with her—not for the answer itself, but for what it implied.
"First, I stopped eating what I was served. The withdrawal symptoms were awful—that's when I knew I was being drugged. To manage the withdrawal, I drank calming lily tea. That's all I did."
Mahalia shook her head, trying to make sense of it.
But I'm no longer Qaya. Awin can't access my meals. So why haven't my memories returned?
There was only one explanation: she was still being fed the Oculus plant.
And that terrified her. Because it meant two things—
Either Awin knew Qaya and Mahalia were now practically the same person and was keeping her drugged…
And someone in her family home was working for Awin.
She didn't know when she started hyperventilating.
Awin knows who I am? That doesn't make sense. Would our plans even work anymore?
A cascade of thoughts spun in her mind. And for the first time, she wished her family—her family—and her friends were by her side.
The family and friends who weren't mine to beginwith. A taunting voice in her head spat
The door creaked open. Mahalia flinched.
Awin stepped in.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was shaky but defiant.
"What am I doing in my wife's room? Really?" he scoffed. "You're going to ask me that?"
Mahalia laughed—mocking, bitter. "Don't tell me you came to consummate this sham of a marriage?"
Awin was taken aback—not by her words, but by her expression. Her eyes blazed with pure disgust.
He decided then and there—he'd change that.
"You think I won't?"
Mahalia laughed again, this time unhinged. She pulled out a hairpin and held it like a weapon.
"Try me."
He stopped in his tracks. He knew her too well to test her patience especially when she looked like that.
Still, she looked... shaken. Like she had seen a ghost?
"Do I make you that uncomfortable?"
"What? Uncomfortable? You overestimate yourself."
Awin chuckled. "Fine. I'll leave you be tonight. But that's the only chance you'll get. We must consummate our marriage soon."
Mahalia snorted. "Only you would be foolish enough to force a horse to drink. Guess what—that's a losing game."
"To me, this isn't even a marriage. There's nothing to consummate.
I'll die before I let you touch me."
As the words left her mouth, something dark flickered in Awin's eyes. He grabbed her arm, his grip like iron.
"Who said anything about dying?" he whispered. "I need you alive."
"What?" Mahalia's voice faltered. The desperation in his gaze was terrifying.
"Let go of me!" she yelled, trying to wriggle free—but his grip only tightened.
"Maybe I don't want to be gracious. Maybe I'll—"
Before he could finish, Mahalia slapped him—hard.
"I said, let go of me!"
He released her. His eyes venomous, but he said nothing. He gave her one final look, turned, and walked out.
She waited until he was gone—until she couldn't hear his footsteps—before she collapsed onto her bed, tears spilling down her cheeks.
She'd fought so hard to stay strong, but it was all crashing down:
The prison she now lived in, the distance from her family, the fact that there where people she might never see again…
It was too much.
So Mahalia told herself she could cry. Just this once.
She'd earned it. She deserved this moment of weakness.
---
To be continued