“Mariana, are you ready?” asked Helena.

Mariana chewed at her bottom lip. Everything had to go perfectly or else…or else. She sighed and shook her hands in an attempt to shake off the fear that was building up. The mother consort had said that it would be an easy mission. The prince wouldn’t suspect anything. Plus, she had chosen the best of the best, the prettiest girls. If one did not succeed, the others would. He would be distracted by their beauty, and then they could slip the poison in.

The poison was hidden in her earnings. She just had to seduce the prince, then break the crystal and pour the poison in. Yet, she was still uneasy.

Rumors whispered amongst the servants, and other women said that he was different—a monster disguised as a man. His name suited him well. It was said that on his birth, covered in blood with glowing yellow eyes, he came out, and that was why the emperor had named him Illishid—the demon who rose up against the gods. She shook her head. No, he was just a simple man, she told herself, but the feeling of impending death remained.

Something was not right, but she couldn’t quite figure out what made her so fearful. Wouldn’t anyone be happy to kill a tyrant such as the seventh prince? He had killed servants, consorts, and officials without much thought. Was he not the monster sent off to win an impossible war? They said that amongst the battlefield was where the prince had felt most at home. Riding in blood and ruin, with those yellow jeweled eyes, he took on the appearance of the god of war. A demon…A god…which was it?

Her grandmother had said that the gods don’t function by the same principles as humans. They did not have bad or good intentions. To kill was not a sin; instead, it was just the way of fate. The conflicts of the gods often raged on for millennials. Which was why they even prayed to the god of war and death. But the gods were gone, and Illished he was just a tyrannical man.

“Marianna,” Helena called for her once again, snapping her out of her mind.

“I,” she looked at herself in the mirror, makeup done to perfection, hair shining like polished bronze, her clothing showed an artful amount of skin, and she had used perfumes especially meant for seduction made by the traveling Dibich women, “I’m ready.” She got up her sleeve, getting caught on a hand mirror. The mirror fell, cracking out of its silver base. It was an ominous sign. She bit her bottom lip once more, this time drawing blood. The fear, the impending fear, it ate at her from the inside.

“Come it’s time to go,” Emila mumbled, lifting the tapestry that hung on the door and walked out. Helena followed suit, her skirt fluttering with every movement.

She looked outside the window at the moon. Today, the moon was bright and clear, beaming down on them. The Goddess was happy. The full moon always brings prosperity…but to whom? Shaking her head, she pushed the thought aside, obviously to them. The consort's mother would not have sent them to their death.

Yes, she relaxed. The consort's mother was a kind woman. She could never endanger her followers. These insecurities were harmful; they made her waver. Wavering was not an option. If she succeeded, the Consort Mother would allow her to join the emperor's harem. She would live in glory and riches. Glancing back at the broken hand mirror, she followed Helena and Emila.

Servants waited for them in the hallway. A soldier stood watch not too far behind. She eyed the soldier. Her eyes linger on the kindjal hanging at his hip. The moonlight reflected off the sword throwing light onto the otherwise dark hallway only lit by crystal lamps. The lamps were lit using magic, she thought. They gave off no warmth, and the smell of oil was missing. If I succeed, soon, my room will also be lit by magic orbs.

“The Prince is waiting in the throne room for you consorts,” the servant said and bowed.

“Yes, let’s not keep the prince waiting,” Helena said. The servant nodded and started to lead the way.

She looked at the lamps. The light was dim, throwing their shadows menacingly onto the stone walls of the palace. Mariana squeezed her forearm, startling her slightly. " Everything will be okay.” The reassuring words did nothing to calm her anxious mind, but she nodded in response.

Each step towards the throne room felt heavier. There was something she was missing. Something vital that caused her to fear for her life. Why weren’t the other girls afraid as well? Did they not notice how strange this situation seemed, as if things were too easy? Finally, they stopped in front of two large doors. In the darkness, it was hard to make out the layout of the palace, but the crystal lamps told her it must have been beautiful.

The doors opened with a loud sigh of reluctance. First, Marianna and Helena walked in. She hesitated; it wasn’t too late to run. Maybe she could- no, she had to go through with her mission. Taking a step in, the heavy doors closed behind her with a loud thud.

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Unlike the hallway, the throne room was brightly lit. Government officials, members of the royal family, and nobles sat at the sidelines of the grand white marble room. The chatter of the room quieted. She had forgotten that this was a celebration for the prince’s good work at the relief effort for the Plavi distract. They looked at her…or at them, their looks suffocating and filled with dubiousness. She did not dare to look at the prince. Instead, she walked forward and kneeled down on the marble floor.

“We greet Your Highness,” they said in unison.

The silence was replaced with whispers amongst the guests. “Your Highness, this is a gift from the consort mother. She is sorry that she cannot attend the celebration but has sent you these three consorts as a gift for your good work,” the servant said. The servant cleared his throat. She could hear the shuffling of fabric.

“This is for the Empire!” the servant suddenly shouted. Mummers occurred, people shuffled, then the sound of metal against metal clashed, bringing an abrupt silence to the murmurs. She waited, attempting to keep herself from trembling. This was all just part of the plan, a distraction, she reminded herself. The sound of a soft thud followed the clashing. A gasp here and there.

“Take them away and lock them in the dungeon,” the prince commanded.

Her heart stopped. No…no…no… this was not what was supposed to happen. She scrambled up. All eyes were trained on them. Bewildered, she looked around the room until her eyes rested on him.

Illishid. The man looked down at her with eyes that shone like golden jewels and an un-bemused expression. She was struck in awe for a moment. Bronze sun-kissed skin was adorned in golden jewelry. The jewelry was the color of his eyes. Black ebony hair was tied neatly into a ponytail. His nose was straight, lips full, his cheekbones sharp, and his jawline strong. How could a demon be this beautiful? Was he truly the god of war?

Then, hands were on her, soldiers grabbed her from both sides, and he smiled. A cold and heartless smirk that sent chills down her spine. No, that man was truly evil.

They threw her into a cell in the dungeon. She fell harshly onto the hard stone ground. She bit her lip. It stung. The other girls had been placed in cells apart from her. There was nothing in the cell, minus a small window the size of two of her hands. Even from here, the rays of the moon broke through the darkness. Wasn’t the moon goddess blessing them? Would she die here? It was supposed to have been easy. Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. The Consort Mother had promised them that they would be safe. But everything had been too easy; that was what bothered her. Did the Consort Mother lie? There was no way she could have lied. The consort mother was nice…she would come and rescue them, she reassured herself knowing that those reassurances were just sweet lies.

It seemed like she had sat there for an eternity. The sun had long risen, and light bleed in through the small window. Then she finally heard it. The loud clanking as the door was opened. Through the door walked the prince. Even in this situation, she was still in awe. Maybe, just maybe, she could seduce him, and then he would let her live.

“She’s the only one left alive,” the soldier holding the door said.

“I see she must be the stupid one,” the prince replied.

“Your Highness,” she fell to the floor. I would never hurt you.” She was desperate. She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she looked up, meeting those cold golden eyes. They seemed void of all emotion.

The gods work on different principles. She was reminded of her grandmother’s words again but pushed them away.

“Please, Your Highness,” she begged, crawling towards him. She reached a hand out to him, but he stepped away. A scowl graced his face. Who could have given birth to him? The Consort Mother was beautiful, but the woman who had brought him to life must have been even more beautiful.

“Please, I’ll do anything, Your Highness; just spare my life,” she pleaded once more.

“Your friends killed themselves. We were only able to get information from the brunette,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

She jolted back, surprised someone could talk of death so nonchalantly. He leaned down and grabbed her face, forcing it to look up at him, “You are the only one who remains; you must really be a fool- one of those followers of the consort.” He squeezed, and she yelped from pain. He let her go.

“There are fates worse than death,” he paced down the length of the cell before stopping near the soldier. He pulled out the soldier’s kindjal and looked at the sword thoughtfully. Was there hope? She wondered.

“Please-“ she was cut off.

“For your crimes, I’ll take your eye, and you will be returned to that Consort,” he said.

She wasn’t going to die. Relief replaced fear. The Consort Mother would take care of her even if she had failed. Yes, everything would be okay. What is an eye when compared to her life?

He kneeled beside her, once more taking her face into his hold, kindjal at the ready. She tensed against him, trying to crawl away, but his hold was too tight. There were no emotions behind those eyes. No pity for her.

Swiped. The pain came fast. She screamed. It burned. Blood poured from her eyes. He got up and looked down at her as she screamed in pain.

“What a pity,” he said and turned around.

“Wrap her, drug her, and take her to the Consort,” he commanded.

She screamed. The pain was too strong. It shook her to her core. She was going to die. She was going to die from the pain. Someone, help me, she wanted to cry. Save me from this demon. The screams kept coming until they turned into sobs. Someone moved her, liquid was poured down her throat. It was bitter. Then the pain started to fade. It faded into a fatigue. The person wrapped her eye, and then she was led somewhere. Once more being pulled along by soldiers. Finally, she thought in relief that they would take her to the Consort Mother, and everything would be okay. But for now, she let herself slip away into unconsciousness.