A pang hit my chest at what he said.

Stunned silence filled the cave-like room with my heart beating in my ears.

The previous writer of his kingdom...

Have I made the worst decision of choosing a writer's identity to complete my travelogue?

Everyone seemed content, be it Cheryl, Lorenzo, Aarmen or Dunkin. Though he hadn't told about his work yet he seems satisfied, and me?

I turned out to be the most vulnerable and struggling of them all.

"I was elated when he came to my kingdom," Julian started, his eyes fixated on the dead man.

"Someone who'd write about my empire, my rule, my people. The thought thrilled me that my Romanowskian empire would be remembered through all the texts he was writing." I saw a glimpse of hope in his eyes, which was gone in a second.

"He even told the manuscripts would be passed on to the next generation of scholars who would continue to promote my kingdom, but..."

He lowered his head and sighed, rubbing his hands against the arms.

"But.. nothing is guaranteed when you are surrounded by power-hungry enemies and jealous friends."

I didn't know what to say. Whether to sympathise or stay mum. One wrong word and I'll point all his doubts at me.

"He was a very meek man. Like you writer people appear to be," he snickered. Something was about to happen, given the dark undertone of his laugh.

"Always listened to what I had to say, such a docile, obedient Fucker!" I gasped when he grabbed a nearby goblet from the counter joined with the main wall and hurled it at the chained corpse.

Fear began building in me when he breathed out harshly, looking at the man with such hostility, it looked he was ready to rip apart his hands and legs.

"The book he wrote was constantly passed to the enemy right under my nose, blasted my most trusted secrets and spied all around my kingdom on the pretext of knowing people," he gave out a humourless laugh, scaring me further.

Because that was my motive too. To know the people of his kingdom.

He pushed his hands back from the slab and walked ahead.

"I would've at least given him a proper burial but he-" coming to stand near the body, I could see the sweet essence of smoke engulfing Julian's frame.

"He abused one of my concubines to the brink that she killed herself," he confided. His outrage knew no bounds when he kicked the burning bowls everywhere, letting smoke scatter around in wild waves.

It pained him on the inside, considering himself to be the sad death of his concubine.

I wanted to write about him so badly. But my chances were clearly thinning.

"Before jumping off the palace roof, she cursed me. Cursed me that I'll never have love in my life. And here I am! A loveless man!" he howled.

But underneath the harsh voice, he was wailing and it hurt me.

"Fuck, why am I telling you all this?" he grunted and turned around sharply.

"No one should know what I said right now," he seethed in a terrifyingly calm voice, making me shudder.

"And don't you dare write anything in that absurd book of yours!" he thundered again.

"I- I won't," I stuttered, lowering my face to the ground. I did nothing wrong to receive the endpoint of his anger. Then why?

Because he hated writers.

Something reeled in his head as he narrowed his eyes. It scared me to the core that his focus was now shifted to me from the dead man.

"Tell me, writer," he stalked forward,

"Are you a spy as well?" before I could do anything, he locked me with his hands on either side of the slab.

I'm a spy from the twenty-first century, but I'm not here to harm you. How could I say it out loud?

"No. I'm not a spy," I tried hard not to stammer,

"I worked previously for Queen Cle-"

"Where have you exactly come from?" he cocked his head, getting to the point that fretted me the most.

"M- Macedemia, a small village of Gre- Ah!" I squeezed my eyes close when he banged his fist on the wall slab hard.

"There isn't a fucking Macedemia in entire Greece! Who are you fooling Althea?!" he roared, causing a shaky sob to escape my throat.

Nothing came to my mind, given his intimidating frame towering over me. With the newfound fear for him and the chances of my true self getting spilt, I didn't know what to do.

I couldn't blow my identity at any cost. I'll have to die than let it happen.

"Why couldn't you be a spy?" he asked again, gripping the slab tighter,

"You know every fucking thing about Alexander, the battles oh and might I add, you know how to fight as well," he stated through gritted teeth.

"And the foremost reason being when I applauded you for your bravery, you went straight into an alerted mode, shrugged off the incident and the book written in a language no one knows!"

He had all the proofs that I didn't belong to this century. But it was the only thing he would never know.

I looked up to his eyes defiantly, tears ready to slip out, but I held them.

If you wanted to know the truth behind a person's façade, just look them in the eye and shut everything out. My mentor had told me.

And now when I looked deeper, my fears turned to sadness.

Romanos, a well-established empire neighbouring the famous city of Alexandria, ruled by such a passionate ruler.

How did it get lost in history?

I wasn't scared of the possibility he could kill me. I had to die one way or the other to reach my actual world, but what would disturb me for the rest of the life was,

My regret of never finding enough about this kingdom and its enigmatic ruler.

I wiped the bordering tears with the back of my hand and took in a shaky breath.

I have to revert his distrust for writers.

"You told the reason for my situation yourself. The reason I chose to be a writer," I stated with my head held high.

Because training from the Behavioral instincts classes told, looking up with your chin down makes men want to protect you. I wasn't in a mood to have womanly pity on me.

He was taken aback, but continued to look down with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Macedemia's disappearance didn't account for it being a small village but its history, that was never written. People being so busy in their lives, no one guessed there would be a time when they'd be snatched from their peaceful abode," I continued.

"If you don't know Macedemia, you must know Elis, right? Twenty years ago when Greek general Telesphorus entered Elis, he fortified the main citadel and enslaved the city." Macedemia was an imaginary village.

Heck, it was my hometown from the twenty-first century, which obviously never existed here, but I had to somehow mash it up with history to make it relatable.

And I was being successful given the fierce look that was slowly slipping from his face.

"I was still an infant when my father sneaked us out of the enslavement. He went everywhere, telling people we were from Macedemia, but none knew about it. No wonder great rulers like you are aloof about my little village.

"My father taught me the battles that took place, educated me, inspired me to not just stick to the house and cook for the family but to go out, to explore and work for the kingdoms, save them from their inevitable doom of getting lost in history!" I was breathing hard by now. There goes the do or die.

He stared down at me, judging my face, if I lied somewhere. When I couldn't hold on to the stare anymore, I lowered my face in unease.

"Done?" He asked finally when my rant was over. Satisfaction threatening to emerge on his face, but he held back.

Done? That was the only thing he could say?

"Can I write?" I asked, a little too desperately. God, I wanted to write about him. It's not every day you get transported to an interesting kingdom. Not to mention it would be a bonus for my PhD thesis.

"How about you sign a treaty?" He suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What treaty?" I asked, hoping it won't be anything too much to follow.

He stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. After studying me for a while, his features relaxed.

"Five rule Treaty," he started.

"Rule one. Whenever I question you, you'll always reply the truth or," he glanced back at the chained corpse. "I'll consider you no less than a spy. Understood?"

"Yes," I replied timidly.

"Rule two. My permission is necessary before you go exploring anywhere," I nodded.

"Rule three. You must write everything in your book in Greek. Other languages are not allowed."

"Rule four. At the end of each day, you'll come to my room and iterate whatever you've written the entire day, word to word," he instructed, watching keenly how I reacted to every rule. I made sure to keep my face neutral.

"And... the fifth rule," he came forward, locking me between him and the slab again. "This should be the last time you talked to me like that." he lowered his face to my level, spiking my heart rate further.

"Next time you rant on or call me by the name, I'll personally make sure to shut your lips," he whispered, without a hint of casualness on his rugged face.

"Will you follow the rules, Althea?"

The last rule had my head spinning. Will he... Oh no.

"What if I don't follow the treaty?" I asked, gulping.

"A treaty is a two-way thing. You follow these rules and have the special rights of a writer. If not, you'll revert to your previous identity of my war prize and serve me as my concubine," he replied, smiling smugly.

Hell no! Given the time I studied my brain off for this project and the QLATs, I never bothered to be in a relationship.

All in all, I had zero experience, but he shouldn't know that.

"I'll go for the treaty," I said quickly, earning a chuckle from him.

He was about to back off when his gaze drifted to my bare shoulder and his face softened.

"Is it still hurting?" he asked, skimming his fingers on the nape of my neck until they rested on the spot he had bitten.

It was surprising; he remembered.

I winced when his fingers pressed on the sensitive skin,

"A bit," I replied.

"A bit?" he snickered. "It should be a reminder, Mila, that I'm watching your every move," he whispered.

Holding me firmly by the arms, he moved his face to the side and bit on the tender skin again. I cried out as the throbbing resurfaced in the healing spot, fingers digging into his arms, when the pain intensified.

My mind flew off to another world when I felt the wetness of his lips sucking on my burning skin. I was hyperaware of his closeness, and my condition didn't help when his hand travelled to my back, pressing me against his chest.

He continued to soothe the same pain he'd intended to give. He was truly crazy.

I didn't push him, I couldn't. It was insane why I was loving the feel of his lips on the burning bite. Maybe it was my inexperience in men. I couldn't figure out. Why did I forget he was ready to kill me a moment ago? I was becoming a complete mess.

One thing was absolute: I could never be with him. No matter what. It was the worst idea. Oh Lord, he was a historical figure, not a movie star to crush upon.

"Y- Your concubines are w- waiting for you," I said somehow, my breath heavy with an inexplicable feeling.

He was so absorbed in kissing the hell out of my wound that he ignored what I said. I bit my lip to resist an embarrassing cry when he began to trail the kiss up my neck.

"J- Julian please," I managed to get my unsteady hands to his chest and pushed lightly. He detached himself finally, lost out of his mind at what he was doing. When he opened his eyes, his voice was hoarse, yet filled with wild excitement.

"You broke the last rule," he whispered.

"I haven't signed the treaty yet," I replied in an equally heaving voice.

"Intelligent woman, who knows how many rules you are going to break," he chuckled.

After ordering a guard to bury the dead man finally, he took us out of the creepy room. Into the colourful parts of the palace again.

"Did you like your room?" he asked when we were close to reaching my room. Thankfully, the concubine gang was gone.

"Yes," I replied. Though he said nothing, I felt he wanted more of my opinion.

"And I like the bed. It's so big. Thank you so much," I smiled.

"Thank me later when I fulfil my promise to you," We came in front of my room and he departed after one last glance.

I didn't understand which promise until his words came back from the night in the camp. It threw me off balance.

The huge bed was a reminder of his disastrous promise.