Two years ago, if someone had told Oris that one day she would choose to face off against a dozen guards to secure a position in Hermes' harem she was sure that she would have lopped off their head.

It was as incredulous as saying that she would willingly hand her soul over to Death.

Yet here she was, doing the very thing she would have beheaded someone for merely insinuating. Fate really enjoyed toying with her.

Maybe she was being treated so unfairly because she didn't have a patron god to watch out for her when the other gods passed her destiny around like a helping of drying clay.

But not everyone could be like Hermes and dedicate themselves wholly to one god, at least Oris knew she couldn't—the fact that she barely believed they existed didn't help her withering faith.

All she needed was the knowledge of Fate, Death and Destiny and she could live peacefully. At least, she hoped so.

"My Lady, please put down the sword," Faeradaigh cried out once again, drawing Oris back to the present.

Yes, the sword, Oris flexed her fingers around the hilt of the weapon before adjusting her grip, thank you for reminding me.

She pushed the blade up, closer to her neck, and it impressed a line on the skin of her throat, drawing blood. She appreciated the sharpness of the sword. She had barely felt a thing.

Infusing her gaze with pain, she met Faeradaigh's eyes with her own. This is too easy.

"Mistress!" Mayree and Seline shouted with distress that could not be faked.

Oris was almost touched by their sincerity, but she had no time to dwell on the feeling. The sooner she put the sword down, the better the outcome would be for her when she would be trialed.

"Either you let me through or I die here," she said. "It is your choice, milord."

"I cannot let you through," Faeradaigh rushed through his words, really looking panicked now that he knew she was serious.

It must have seemed like a joke at first when I had taken his sword from him.

This was the only feasible way out she could think of, threatening the eunuch with her life.

She hadn't planned on using his personal weapon to meet that end but it would unrealistic of her to even attempt to take a spear out of a guard's hand and use that. Not only were they well trained, but even if by Fate's little toe she succeeded, it would have been impossible for her to maneuver the spear to her throat before being promptly disarmed.

And as always, the element of surprise was crucial for the success of her plan. Getting caught halfway was not an option.

The sword had been in a scabbard hanging off the saddle of Faeradaigh's horse. It had been tempting her really, from the moment she noticed it, and she had never been one to ignore such a well placed opportunity.

Grabbing the sword had been the easy part, giving a justifiable reason for breaking out of the encirclement and rescuing Andrea was the tough part.

"Things are clear to me now," it was not hard to feign a realization, "this all happened because of me, because of my inadequacy. If the Emperor had wanted me I would not have been kept outside the palace for half a day, and if I hadn't been outside the people wouldn't have flocked here to see me."

"My Lady, put down the sword and we can talk in the carriage." Faeradaigh said softly.

"No," Oris shook her head, "you aren't listening."

"Mistress, listen to him," Seline urged. "Do not blame yourself, this is all this servant's fault."

She fell to her knees.

Immediately, Faeradaigh's attention shifted to the maid. "You, speak up! What do you have to do with it?"

"Seline, what are you doing?" Mayree rushed to the younger girl, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Get up now."

"Milord," Seline started, ignoring the tugs on her sleeves. "My mistress has a kind heart, she only wants to serve the Emperor wholeheartedly. She didn't mind that we weren't allowed into the palace, she even said that she didn't mind how long she had to wait. She didn't even accept to stay in a inn because she didn't want to delay the selection."

"My mistress had heard stories of a merchant that had been raided by starving peasants because he didn't offer them anything, you know this. But my mistress is so compassionate, she bought food just in case," the maid shook her head. "In the end the people came, my mistress asked us to distribute the food to avoid a catastrophe. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, the people or the servants in the convoy. When the guards arrived the food was already finished, there was nothing we could do. But this servant hadn't watched over things well and a maid went missing. Please punish."

By now, Mayree had stopped trying to pull Seline to her feet. Her hands hung limp by her side as she watched Seline press her her hands to the ground and lower her head.

Mayree and Keziah fell to their knees simultaneously. "Please punish this servant," they said together.

"Let my mistress through, milord. Her life is not worth that of ours. She is a bride candidate." Mayree added then prostrated herself, her forehead slamming into the ground.

Oris watched her maids, a complicated feeling brewing in her heart.

They all had reasons to enter the palace, families to provide for, honors to protect, yet here at this moment they only cared about her safety.

They hadn't even know her for half a month and they were willing to sacrifice their lives for her.

They won't leave me, Oris realized, nearly dropping the sword. Somehow, she had gained the respect of four girls. Even now when the future was uncertain, they placed their bets on her. If they could stand by her at a time like this, no matter what happened in the palace they would stand by her, whether she was in favor or not.

She couldn't just leave them behind.

She couldn't let them die for her.

Oris steeled herself and walked to the wall of guards in front of her. The men stood unmoving when she reached them and before she could say a word, Mayree shouted, "Who dares block the path of the Emperor's future bride?"

"Let her pass." Faeradaigh said at last, his voice defeated, but Oris didn't take a step forward when the guards moved aside to create a path for her.

"I want my maids to go with me," she said to the eunuch, then without waiting for his reply turned to the girls. "Get up and follow me."

Keziah was the first to rise to her feet, throwing Faeradaigh a scathing look as she rushed to her Mistress' side.

Mayree was next, grabbing the shoulders of the still kowtowing Seline.

When the three maids were by her side again, Oris began to walk. Wherever she stepped, the soldiers present would stand at attention and the previously oppressed peasants would run away, gathering the provisions that had been tossed to the ground before leaving.

Oris found them pitiful, knowing that it was only circumstance that differentiated the rich from the poor. She could have been like them, displaced from their hometowns with no source of livelihood or path to survival, had it not been for the untimely demise of her birth parents and the subsequent descent of her sister into insanity.

She did not regret distributing the food and medicine, she regretted not having the power to protect them.

"No, you can't take that!" Andrea screamed again, and now Oris could see her.

The girl's dress was torn and bloodstained; her hair was no longer parted in the middle and packed into two small buns at either side of her head. Instead, those dark locks fell like a curtain over her quivering shoulders.

From where she stood, Oris couldn't tell whether the girl was injured or not. Blood was splattered on her cheeks and it dripped off her hands; Andrea's eyes were red with unshed tears.

Now noticing Oris, the guard that had been harassing the maid withdrew his spear and stood aside.

"Andrea," Mayree called out softly, causing the girl to look in her direction.

"May-ree," Andrea let go of the sack she had been hugging to her chest, the same one the guard had been trying to take from her.

"Mistress," she said, her lips trembling as the sack fell by her feet, "they are taking everything and killing people. Tell them to stop."

"Andrea!" Mayree called again, her voice stern and cold this time around.

"Tell them to stop," Andrea repeated.

"You-"

Oris shook her head, signalling Mayree to stop, and took the sword away from her neck. "Andrea, forget about the supplies, we can always get more. Come over here, let us get back to the carriage. It isn't safe."

"Come Andrea," Seline joined to coax the girl, holding out her dainty hand. "Look at you, all dirty. It will take nights to get these stains out of your dress."

Andrea looked at Seline mutely but made her way towards her. All the while Oris and the rest watched the guards warily, knowing that today's issue was far from resolved.

When Andrea was safe in the embrace of Seline's arms, she began to cry.

Her sobs pierced into the already tense atmosphere, causing another prick to Oris' heart. Andrea was by far the liveliest maid out of the bunch, she didn't show sadness easily and was the day's bundle of sunshine. Her tears did not spill easily.

"Silly child," Mayree sighed and patted Andrea on the head, running her fingers through her hair soothingly. "It's all over now."

"No," Keziah whispered, her hands balling into fists by her sides. "Everything is only just beginning."

As though in response to her statement, the guards moved in to surround them, coordinated by a silent order.

Oris threw down the sword and sighed loudly. "I'm afraid you're right," she reached behind her veil to wipe away the blood drying on her neck.

"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly while watching the guards. Her gaze shifted the Faeradaigh who approached them, still sitting comfortably on his stallion.

"No," one of them replied, and that was all she needed to hear.

"Good, I won't make you regret it either," she assured them just as Faeradaigh shouted a new order to the guards.

"Take them away." he said, and the tips of all the spears in the vicinity were aimed at Oris and her maids.

Finally, Oris thought.

Finally, they were going to the palace.

~