Oris only let herself let out a breath of relief when all the officials' carriages were tucked behind the palace walls and out of sight.

She was glad that Hermes had yet to appoint all his ministers, or she would have been greeting till noon. As it was now, thirty-five was still a bit too many "Pleasant morning's" and smiles but the first phase of the plan had finally been executed.

The officials were now aware of her existence and what they were aware of, they would privately discourse amongst themselves.

Now, all that was left were the people.

"My Lady."

When Faeradaigh's voice rose above the one in Oris' head, she was forced to look back out the window.

"Yes?" She tried not to sound tired but she was. She couldn't even muster the strength to sound cheerful. Faeradaigh would just have to make do with her droning.

"The things you requested, where should I put them?"

"Here in the carriage would be okay." Oris said then shifted away from the door to the other side of the seat. "How much were you able to get?"

"Quite a lot, My Lady," Faeradaigh took a step back as a servants walked up to the carriage with sacks on their shoulders. "But not enough to risk unwanted attention."

"What was your excuse?" Oris asked curiously as the seat opposite her was slowly stacked with the hemp bags. The quantity of bread and dried rations he had amassed was more than what she had imagined.

"Told the sellers that a royal was throwing a large feast to talk about how conditions were on the battlefield," he started. "Something of those sorts, My Lady."

"Thank you, Faeradaigh." Oris said honestly. The eunuch, regardless of how raunchy his thoughts may get at times had been quite helpful, friendly—if not overly—and truthful. She supposed if that was what Hermes had looked for when selecting his personal assistant, he had gotten it.

"Ah, My Lady?" He tilted his head up to look at her, the folds of fat trapped beneath his chin and neck quivering. "May I ask what you need all this food and medicine for?"

Here it is. Oris didn't let the emotions she felt cloud her expression. This was the crux of the plan where everything could either go to Death or soar to paradise. Her answer now would determine how Hermes would perceive the events that were about to happen. It was best if no one but she and her maids knew of her scheme for it to work successfully.

"I am preparing," she started, letting her gaze fall.

"Preparing for what, My Lady?"

Purposefully, Oris didn't reply immediately or directly. "When I was little, a rich merchant was passing through a town to get to a big city. He had soldiers with him and plenty servants, so of course he thought he was safe. . ."

"What happened?" Faeradaigh gulped and wiped his forehead, only remembering after the action was done that his handkerchief still sat in his chest pocket.

"His convoy got raided."

"Raided?" Faeradaigh nearly squeaked the word, squeezing the damp cloth in his had so tightly that Oris could almost hear the peach blossoms embroidered on it scream out in pain. "But the soldiers!"

"The merchant did not know that the town had gotten an influx of refugees. The people were starving," she said lightly, then sighed. "They begged the merchant for food but he gave none knowing if he did his convoy would not have enough to eat for the rest of the journey. So the refugees attacked, and against their overwhelming numbers the soldiers were no match."

"The merchant. . . how did he fare?"

"He lost his life."

"So. . . So."

"Yes," Oris nodded solemnly. "I am afraid of that happening to me."

Faeradaigh laughed awkwardly and took a step away from the carriage. "My Lady, this is Heshera, I am sure nothing of the sort will happen this close to the palace. You are perfectly safe."

Oris only smiled and turned away. Let's hope not.

"I will go tend to other matters, My Lady. Please do not entertain such fears in my absence."

"I shall try." she said, loud enough that he might actually believe her.

Mayree, Andrea, Keziah, Seline, where are you all? Oris looked up at the rising sun. She couldn't help but have doubts that it was just as Faeradaigh claimed, maybe Heshera was perfectly harmonious with no sick or poor. Maybe no one truly dared to cause a ruckus this close to the palace.

She closed her eyes, feeling frustration creep into her thoughts for the first time in days. Will I really be defeated before I even cross the gates?

"You look like Death, My Lady."

Oris' eyes snapped open to nothing but darkness. She blinked in confusion only to realize that it was a hand over her eyes that blinded her.

Despite not being able to see, she could recognize that voice anywhere. Her thumping heart slowed down and she let out a short laugh.

"Mikeal?"

"Correct." The hand was withdrawn and she turned her head to see the Knight sitting next to her, a grin stretching his lips.

"How did you get here?" She looked out of the still open carriage door, able to see Faeradaigh talking animatedly to a guard at the gates.

"You have that eunuch wrapped around your little finger, don't you?" he teased, his chocolate-brown eyes nearly sparkling.

"I heard you were transferred." Oris ignored his comment and looked him over again. He had not changed much but the veil she wore today was clearer. "I couldn't find you again after that day. . ."

She had searched for him after arriving at Asharath but he had been nowhere traceable. Only a handful of people even knew he existed. Faeradaigh didn't even know who the carriage's driver was or when their shifts changed.

Mikeal's expression darkened a bit. He smoothed stray strands of hair back into the rest that formed a slick ponytail before replying. "There was an emergency."

"Don't tell me the crown jewels actually went missing?" she asked, faking a horrified gasp for added effect.

"What?" Mikeal seemed stunned for a moment before spurts of uncontrolled laughter escaped him. "Gods no. Someone powerful just happens to hate you."

"Lucky me."

"But it looks like you are well on your way to handling it," he pointed to the bags stacked across from her.

Oris shot the Knight a sharp look that had him raising his hands up in surrender.

"Your secret is safe with me, Princess."

"It's My Lady to you, Knight." Oris said, suddenly feeling nostalgic. "And why should I trust you?"

"Don't you?"

Their gazes met and Oris immediately turned away, feeling heat flood her cheeks. "I guess I do."

"Then we don't have a problem, do we?" He grinned mischievously.

"We shouldn't be sitting this close to each other." Oris cleared her throat. "It is improper."

"Are you indirectly saying that I cannot enjoy a privilege The Emperor himself has not?" He raised an eyebrow and shifted away by an inconsequential margin.

"You have been watching me!" Feeling utterly scandalized, Oris hit him on the chest.

"Ow, ow. It is my job." Mikeal keeled over with his hands pressed against the afflicted area then shot her a look of surprise. "For a princess you hit mightily."

"I. . ." Oris brought down her still raised hand. "I did not mean to do that. And I am not a princess."

"Don't worry, I bring that side out in women," he assured her before crossing his legs and leaning into the seat as though she had never attacked him.

"You are so. . ." Oris let out a breath, several words coming to mind. "So. . ."

"Charming?" The Knight supplied. "I have been told."

"Are you going to be my driver again?" she asked, changing the subject.

"There really isn't much to drive towards," he pointed to the walls. "We have already arrived."

"Then we shall never see again?" Oris whispered, not knowing why the thought of never seeing the man again made her chest hurt so much. She had only seen him twice, including now, yet she felt like she had known him since she was a child.

"If you pass the selection, I will apply to be your personal guard." Mikeal smiled. "How would you like that, Princess?"

"Why are you so interested in me?" Oris asked back, not wanting to show how much joy his suggestion had given her. "And why do you keep on calling me Princess?"

"I like you. And you look like a princess." he said simply.

"But I am The Emperor's," Oris squinted in confusion, not understanding what was going through the Knight's head. Surely he wasn't stupid enough to claim her when Hermes already owned her. "Your words can get you killed, you know that."

"I know what you are, Princess." Mikeal said slowly, not paying any heed to her warning. "You can turn Magnus Kane away and you can fight against the Emperor's mother."

"I did not know who he was," Oris hissed.

"Would it have mattered?"

She remained silent, knowing it would have not.

"From the moment I saw you, I knew. . ." he paused.

Oris crossed her fingers where he could not see. Please, Fate, she prayed, do not let this be a confession of love. I can handle anything you throw at me but love.

"I knew that you were someone who would be able to understand me," Mikeal sighed. "Did you not feel the same?"

"I did," she said honestly, relief fueling her confession. "I feel as though I have known you since I was a babe."

"I won't steal you from Hermes," he said blithely, not even noticing that he had called the Emperor by his given name. "I had forsaken my chance at love long ago. I will not steal another man's bride."

Oris didn't pry, able to hear the hurt in his voice. Instead, she smiled widely and stretched her hand out to him. "Then from now on I shall be the only woman you are allowed to love."

"Are you claiming me, Princess?" Mikeal asked, mirth now dancing in his irises as he stared at her hand. "You want to have all the fine men in this world wrapped around your fingers, is that it?"

"Faeradaigh is not fine."

"He is," the Knight argued then grabbed her hand lightly. "Deep down."

"Very deep, I reckon?" Oris laughed, ignoring how her skin tingled where his fingers touched.

"Indeed." Mikeal laughed along with her then placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. "Then wrapped around your fingers I shall be, sister."

Oris scoffed and pulled her hand away playfully. "I was thinking of being your new mother."

Mikeal rolled his eyes skywards. "I am many summers your senior."

"I am more mature."

"For a princess, you are quite insufferable."

"Whatever you say, Prince."

Mikeal stiffened. "Prince?"

"If I am to be a princess, then it only makes sense that you are a prince," Oris narrowed her eyes at him. "Is something the matter?"

"No."

"So, you want me to pretend that your strange reaction to being called a prince isn't a sort of obvious clue to your identity?"

"That would be great, actually." He laughed then grinned.

Oris shook her head and sighed. "Now who is the insufferable one?"

"Still you, sister." Mikeal said slyly. "I'm sure that my secret is safe with you."

Oris waited a bit before looking at him strangely. "Which secret, son?"

The laughter that followed had both Faeradaigh and the palace guard he had been conversing with turn to the carriage.

"Gods," Mikeal shook his head, "you will be the death of me."

"You will be mine if you don't disappear very soon," Oris stared blankly at him then turned to the Faeradaigh who was making his way over with the guard.

"You should hide somewhere, Mike—" when she turned back, she realized that she had been talking to empty space.

The Knight had left just as he came, like an early morning ghost.

~