“Do you want something?”

“I didn’t act expecting anything in return.”

“No need to pretend to be naive. You should always settle accounts properly. You saved the prince, and I am obligated to repay you. So don’t refuse and just tell me.”

It was as if she were saying, “You should consider it the honor of your life that a slave like you saved my son.”

“This.”

Clink.

Hari pulled out a pouch of silver coins engraved with an owl from her back pocket. At a glance, it was clear that the amount wasn’t small.

“What’s the money for, I wonder?”

“A 20,000-gold golden amphora?”

Hari replied in a flat tone.

“Something like a sacred relic from the Itrium Temple would be nice.”

“You might as well say you want to buy a status. Unfortunately, that’s not allowed for a slave of a defeated nation.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have money in case of emergencies.”

“What an impressive life plan. I hope the situation isn’t what I’m imagining.”

The meaningless conversation ended with her sneer, and silence filled the room. What was more burdensome than the silence was Achilleon’s gaze, which seemed to dig into her. Hari avoided his piercing words.

She felt a touch on the nape of her neck just as she was contemplating an excuse to end the conversation.

By the time she looked up in surprise, her hair was already caught in his long fingers, like thread on a spindle. His thick fingers slid down slowly. From the back of her neck to her collarbone. The fingers stopped in the middle of her chest and collarbone, tapping her skin lightly. Goosebumps rose.

“The clothes are mine, the shoes too. But there’s no brooch.”

Achilleon slowly shifted his gaze and smiled. The twisted curve of his lips carried a sinister air. His hand, which slithered down like scales, touched the spot where Hari’s brooch should have been pinned.

Under the shade of a tree filled with the damp scent of ripe fruit, the sensation of his lips invading hers vividly resurfaced as if it had happened just yesterday.

“I left it in my room.”

Her heart pounded. Every place his touch grazed felt as if her fine hairs stood on end. Surely, he wouldn’t suspect she was gathering funds for an escape. Pressing her trembling lips together, Hari steadied herself.

His eyes lingered on the spot where the brooch should have been before slowly pulling away. Even though it was hidden under her clothes, she felt as if she’d been stripped bare. Reflexively raising her hand to cover the area, she saw his crooked smile deepen.

It was the first time he saw her wearing this outfit. It was obvious that Huliya had tailored it to accentuate her figure without any reservations, but the situation was unwelcome. The dress, with its deep neckline and high slit, was far from modest. While such designs were not unusual for the athletic women of Hitais, the problem was Margharita’s body, which was aesthetically too perfect. Achilleon briefly closed his eyes and reopened them, trying to erase the scene filling his vision.

He was curious, wondering—though not seriously—what might be revealed if he tore apart that thin peplos. Such a base level of curiosity.

But there was another reason Achilleon was scrutinizing Hari from head to toe.

“You’re about the same height.”

After his inspection, Achilleon finally made a decision.

“If you gain a little more weight, you’ll match Selina’s build.”

Having roamed outside for five years under the pretext of expeditions, this festival was unavoidable. And Achilleon had no intention of keeping the daughter of the man who was hell-bent on killing him by his side.

The Oinox Sea Battle, the Nes River battle, the plains frontlines—wherever he went, that old man stirred trouble, brandishing his sword. It had become irritating. Should he be grateful that the patience he honed shone during battles? Achilleon smirked as he bit into a crumpled tobacco leaf. He needed a suitable substitute for a perfect bonding ceremony.

A woman who relied solely on her father’s wealth was better than nothing. Achilleon placed the box of tobacco leaves down and looked at Hari. A soft smile rose to his lips.

“At least this is useful.”

* * *

Hari was running frantically through a dark forest.

Rustle-rustle-!

The faint sound at first quickly closed in. Cutting through the leaves, a massive black snake was approaching. Just before its enormous jaws could sink into her ankle, she woke from the dream.

Hari, drenched in cold sweat, opened her eyes, escaping the recurring nightmare. It was still a dark, pre-dawn hour.

“The bonding ceremony is a union ritual, so you must enter the bedroom prepared in the sacred hall at the start of the festival. You will act as Selina’s stand-in.”

“I refuse. Why should I and His Highness—”

“If His Highness commands it, you must comply.”

Huliya’s cold face, issuing her ultimatum before turning away, wavered in Hari’s feverish, blurry vision.

“It’s the command of the Kurios (master), and you have no right to refuse. From the moment you entered this castle, nothing that belongs to you can be freely exercised.”

Huliya had been the only person who never showed hostility toward Hari. She wasn’t particularly warm either, but she treated her with respect and occasionally gazed at Hari with melancholic eyes.

Recently, Hari had learned that Huliya, a fallen noblewoman, was able to remain in the palace thanks to Queen Tiltia’s arrangement and that she had a daughter a little younger than Hari. Once, while bringing Hari her meal, Huliya had casually mentioned how she wished her daughter would recover quickly and eat heartily.

Perhaps that’s why Hari had felt a one-sided sense of attachment, hoping she might see her as a daughter. Forcing a bitter smile, Hari pushed aside her feelings. She was the prince’s possession. Huliya had simply fulfilled her duty as his maid. That was all.

Achilleon offered no further explanation. He had merely conveyed his decision briefly through Huliya, as if all authority rested solely with him.

Staring blankly at the pre-dawn sky, Hari approached the window. When she opened it, the cool summer night breeze brushed against her cheeks. The air was heavy, but the wind was unnervingly cold.

Since that day, she had been plagued by nightmares of being chased by a black snake. Like a lump of misfortune intent on ruining her life, the snake pursued her. But no matter how hard she ran, she couldn’t escape its fangs sinking into her ankle. Entangled with its clammy body, she tumbled down a cliff.

“Should I be glad I wake up before I’m eaten?”

Once caught in a trap, there might be no escape forever. Just like in Galate’s tower, where her mind had been shattered. Would a savior appear to topple Hitais, the ruler of Rodos, just as Galate had collapsed when she prayed desperately? Perhaps such a future would come—but only after her death.

Lost in thought, Hari reached for her collar with trembling hands. The multi-colored crystal, a family heirloom from the Lagonia tribe and her grandmother’s keepsake, faintly glowed under the moonlight.

“If you don’t want it, escape, Margharita.”

Don’t let greater misfortune consume your entire life. She was no longer a powerless child. Her decisions were swift, and her actions even swifter.

Hari slipped into the central temple under the cover of deep darkness. She moved between the temple and the relic storage, burying stolen ignition stones in the ground. Smuggling out the ignition stones wasn’t difficult.

She simply had to claim that the stones at the bottom of the jar were gravel used for filtering holy water, and the guards would let her pass. When the sack containing the stones wouldn’t open easily, Hari used the sharp pin of her brooch to tear it apart. The moment the stones spilled out of the torn sack, the memory of those deep green eyes flashed through her mind.

“What’s the money for, I wonder?”

“The clothes are mine, the shoes too. But there’s no brooch.”

If she delayed any longer, he might notice. Perhaps he had already seen through her thoughts effortlessly. Hari’s hands, burying the ignition stones, grew hurried.

“Who’s there?”

At the sudden voice, Hari hastily poured dirt over the stones and hid in the nearby bushes along a side path. Tense breaths escaped her lips in shallow gasps. She held her breath, pressing her lips shut, until the guard with the torch passed by. Only when the moon was obscured by clouds and the surroundings were once again enveloped in complete darkness did she relax.

On her way back to her quarters, she had a nagging feeling that she had forgotten something, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

* * *

“The priests are too much. On a day like today, they should let us rest. These satanic bastards. Even the courts strictly separate labor and rest.”

The Festival of Stars had begun. People gathered in the agora to drink white wine mixed with thyme and honey, wrote questions on lead tablets at the Dodona Oracle to receive divine answers, danced the cordax (a lewd dance), and watched plays. After lunch, a pankration (martial arts) match was held in the massive amphitheater. Watching the festive scenes that had nothing to do with her, Hari heard Ipea ask.

“You look like you haven’t slept in three days.”

“Today is an important day.”

The bonding ceremony was two hours away. Soon, Huliya would come with the wig and outfit she had prepared. Hari tried to shift her focus elsewhere.

“Look at yourself, Ipea. What’s with your appearance?”