Chapter 1
I am a spoil of war, the daughter of a vanquished general, plucked from a line of slaves by Leon Ashford, the prince of Linoria.
He gives me a gilded courtyard, garments woven from the finest silk, and a door that is always locked from the outside.
Over three years, I attempt to escape seventeen times.
Each time, he drags me back, only to forge my cage anew with more intricate chains and more vigilant guards.
On my eighteenth attempt, I finally succeed.
I take my younger brother, the pawn Leon had hidden away to keep me in check, and vanish into the vast desert.
Later, word reaches me of what happened after I fled. They say Leon stands in my empty courtyard, staring at the door I left wide open for him. He remains there from dawn until dusk, motionless.
He doesn't rage. He doesn't execute anyone. He simply smiles.
The servants say it is a smile more gut-wrenching than any sob. It is the look of a man who has finally looked into the abyss and found it hollow.
And then, the ruthless prince, the one who kills without blinking, truly goes mad.
*****
Outside my window, the begonias were in full bloom, their pink and white petals carpeting the ground like a fall of decadent snow.
I sat before the window, dressed in a moon-white silk brocade. The window frame itself was a masterpiece, carved with intricate vine patterns, every inch exuding a delicate artistry. But beneath that artistry lay the cold wrought-iron bars embedded within the frame.
I had secretly measured them once. The gaps were just wide enough for a hand to slip through, but it was utterly impossible for an adult's head to pass.
That was Leon Ashford's way. Even my prison had to be a work of art, beautiful and costly.
The creak of the door broke the courtyard's dead silence.
I didn't turn. I knew it was Leon. In this courtyard, no one but he dared to enter without being announced.
He carried a newly crafted glass lantern, its warm yellow light casting shifting shadows across his almost unnaturally handsome face. In his other hand, wrapped in parchment paper, was a roast chicken, its savory aroma aggressively invading my senses.
"Hungry?" He walked to my side, letting out a low, pleasant hum. His voice was like a perfectly tuned cello.
I kept my eyes downcast, watching a strand of my own hair that had fallen onto my skirt, and said nothing.
He wasn't annoyed. Hanging the lantern on the veranda, he placed the chicken on the small rosewood table before me and tore off a glistening drumstick to hold it to my lips. "Eat something."
I turned my head away.
His hand paused in mid-air for a fraction of a second. Then, with a soft chuckle, he took a bite of the drumstick himself. "Still so stubborn."
He chewed slowly, as if savoring a rare delicacy. Then he leaned in until his warm breath ghosted over my ear, carrying the scent of roasted chicken and the cool, lingering fragrance of ambergris that always clung to him.
He hissed, "The servants tell me you were digging at the walls last night."
My body went rigid in an instant.
He let out a low laugh, the vibration of his chest sending a chill through my entire body. "That secret passage to the back garden? I've had it sealed.
"That hairpin you were using to dig was a fine piece, by the way. A priceless antique from a fallen dynasty. A shame to break it."
He paused, his voice dropping to a low, malicious whisper. "Thea, that was the seventeenth time. Any other brilliant ideas? Tell me. I'll help you find the flaws, so I can seal those up too."
My fingers dug into my palms. The sharp sting of pain was the only thing keeping me anchored to my last shred of composure.
For three years, I had tried everything: feigning illness, bribing servants, digging tunnels, and poisoning his food. But every single time, he saw through it at the last possible moment.
He was like a cat toying with a cornered mouse, relishing the sight of its desperate struggles. He never crushed all my hopes at once.
He preferred the hunt. He let me believe I had found an exit, only to step into my path at the final second, watching with quiet delight as the light of hope died within me.
This time, however, I didn't remain silent or struggle in vain. I slowly lifted my head to meet his bottomless gaze, and then, I smiled. It was the first time in three years I had smiled at him.
"Your Highness is so thoughtful and so meticulous. I am truly convinced," I said.