Despite the hours that passed after its happening, Oris couldn't stop thinking about how brazen Mikeal was to touch a woman who belonged to the emperor. She didn't think he cared if she kept their interaction a secret or not, as though there would be no consequence if she told what had happened to any ear that was willing to listen.

Even Faeradaigh hadn't dared lay a finger on her person despite all his advances towards her, and when he finally did it had been quick and hesitant, and not out in the open where he could have been spotted.

Oris found none of those fears in Mikeal. He didn't care how long he held her or who was around when he did and it was obvious that he was not an eunuch.

The mere though of such sent fresh heat to her cheeks.

She wondered what gave him the courage to defy Hermes to such an extent. And if she'd be safe from the emperor's wrath when it descended.

Still, she could not deny that she had enjoyed his company, however brief their interaction had been. It had been too long since someone had just treated her like a normal woman that she had almost forgotten what it meant to blush.

Back in the village, she did all the time. From the hot gazes the men threw her as she started growing into her curves, to the inappropriate remarks from her adopted brothers when they teased each other. But that all changed when she became Queen.

Emotion now became a weakness.

No one was meant to hold your heart. No one was meant to know your mind. No one was meant to hear your laugh.

Even her smiles had been controlled and measured to convey approval and nothing else. Conversations were nothing but the background for verbal jabs to be thrown about, and the man she loved now called her Sire and refused to hold her gaze.

Some days she felt pain when she thought about it, how much her life had changed. Other days she was glad for the opportunity to somehow make a change in the life of the common folk, changes her ministers had always refused to support till the moment the state was stolen from beneath their watchful gazes.

She wished things had turned out differently, wished Risa never lost her mind, wished Hermes never rose to power. Then maybe her life would have remained simple and by now she would have a child holding onto her skirts and a husband who made her laugh.

"So frustrating," she hissed under her breath and rolled her eyes towards the wooden ceiling of her room. It was hard thinking of what could be when her future now was far from guaranteed. She didn't want to think about children or husbands but she was just some weeks, maybe a month from getting married to the man that had the leading role in her nightmares.

She had taken off her veil was long ago since she was alone in the room. And she had nothing to do other than talk to herself or sleep till dawn broke.

The room was small but contained a dry bed, a coal pot, a table and a chair. It was warm and cozy and better than a stable by miles.

Oris was grateful for the privacy the shelter provided, far from being in the mood to deal with either of the two men that had accompanied her.

She sighed and began peeling the dress off her skin. It had gotten a bit wet, of course, as a result of her dash from the carriage to the inn, and she needed it dry for tomorrow since she had nothing else to wear.

Hopefully we reach Asharath soon. She hung the gown on the chair then dragged it to the coal pot in the center of the room. She wanted a fresh set of clothes, ones that didn't remind her that she was nothing but a gift offered to a warlord. She wanted something simple to remind of why she had chosen to do this: Eve, the sister she was unfortunate not to have.

The sister that she could save.

As she turned her hands over the crackling coals, Oris let her mind drift off to the castle in Heshera, the royal palace. It would be her new home if she survived long enough, and the perfect hiding place for a royal who managed to escape a massacre. She doubted the emperor would expect anyone to be brazen enough to hide right under his nose and that was what she was counting on, only now she wished that she had not been the last.

According to Mikeal, that made her special. And being special meant unwanted attention. It made it harder to be unnoticed.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder how many women had Hermes collected so far and why they were so important that he couldn't claim the throne without them.

She also wondered what the second selection would be like and why beauty had been the only criteria for the first screening. Of course no one would want an ugly woman for a bride but wouldn't it have been better to gather brides with some aristocracy instead of just throwing a drag net over the entire empire and taking the risk of attracting unsavory characters?

She wondered how many women he would choose in the end. Rumors had it that Hermes' father had been a lustful and vulgar king with over a thousand beauties in his harem yet he still had his way with his chamber maids.

The thought of sharing a man with other women disgusted her. It had never been her plight to consider until now and it was more than unsettling to think about.

Would she truly have to bed Hermes and raise his spawn just to survive?

She sucked in a sharp breath and shut her eyes, her thoughts suddenly drifting to Mikeal and how he had smiled at her.

The man was charming, there was no doubt about that. But he reminded her too much of Bren and how he could have turned out had he not followed her to the castle. The resemblance could very well be the reason for her reactions towards him.

Oris knew that at the moment she held no romantic feelings for anyone, even Rodholf. She had loved her childhood sweetheart and loved him more when he forsook himself for her and became a Knight. But along the way the love had transformed into something similar to deep respect.

She could still say she loved him and that would not be a lie. Yet she could also say that she did not love him and it would be true.

She wondered if she would ever get the chance to love anyone so deeply that she could lose herself in them. She wondered if she was even allowed to.

She could have thought more about such things but when a familiar ache began to worm its way beneath her skull, she knew she had to stop. She didn't think she had fully recovered from her fall and aggravating the old injury was the last thing she wanted to do.

The physician had said that she should get plenty of rest and not stress herself and yet here she was, thousands of miles away from the convent with hundreds of burning questions she wanted answered.

Oris took her hands away from the burning coals and turned to the bed. "It's never too late to sleep." She sighed and smoothed her hands over the thin shift that covered her otherwise nude body.

She hoped that for the rest of the journey there would be no storms. She needed ever ounce of rest she could get and the peals of thunder in the background were not helping her cause.

~