EIGHT

    The return to the palace was a silent, tense affair. Charlotte, triumphant, clung to Keith’s arm as if she were already his consort, her presence a constant, perfumed reminder of Mars’s failure to completely derail her plot.

    Mars, bruised and exhausted, retreated to the servants’ quarters, his body aching from the ordeal and his mind reeling from the close call. He had survived, but Charlotte had still won her prize.

    The days blurred into a strange new routine. For reasons known only to his capricious captor, Mars was granted the nebulous post of “office sitter.” His duties were nonexistent; he was merely required to occupy a chair in Keith’s study, a silent spectator to the prince’s ruthless efficiency. Servants came and went with scrolls and reports, and Charlotte made frequent, gloating appearances, her smiles sharp enough to draw blood as she prattled on about the upcoming Grandmasters' event.

    On the eve of the event, Keith finally closed the last ledger. “Finally! I am tired yet I have not done nothing all day!” Mars complained, stretching his aching limbs.

    “Would you like to do something then, hmm?” Keith asked, Mars brows pushed forward, confused but curious.

    As they walked the torch-lit corridors, they passed a set of immense, cedarwood doors that were usually sealed shut. Tonight, they stood open, revealing a cavernous space that stole the breath from Mars’s lungs.

    It was the Royal Library.

    “Oh, wow!” Mars forgot his companion entirely, darting inside like a moth drawn to flame. The library was a temple of knowledge, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow, supported by pillars carved as towering papyrus stalks. Countless shelves, reaching towards the heavens, were crammed with scrolls stored in alabaster jars and leather-bound codices. The air was thick with the sacred scent of old paper, ink, and cedar. “So many books!” he awed, his fingers trailing over spines embossed with gold leaf.

    “I had my suspicions but you actually know how to read?” Keith questioned, watching him with an unreadable expression as Mars flitted from one section to another.

    Mars shot him a look. “Of course I can. What am I, three?”

    Keith shrugged, a fluid, arrogant motion. “But you are a servant, or are you not?”

    Mars laughed, pulling a volume on celestial navigation. “I never said I was a servant. I only said I wasn’t from around here, and then you plucked me off the streets- thank you though.”

    “Precisely. You looked homeless, and you weren't from around here. Most of the servants here have similar backgrounds like that, no?”

    Mars face-palmed. “So you brought me here thinking I was a servant and made me sleep in that God-awful room? I slept on a mat. I have never slept on a mat before!” He raised the book in a mock threat to hit Keith, who smoothly plucked it from his grasp and tossed it onto a nearby table.

    “Then where are you from? If you're not a servant, why are you here alone, hmm?” The question hung in the silent, dusty air.

    The words caught in Mars’s throat. ‘Oh, I’m from reality, actually. You’re a character in a lewd book, and I’m trying to stop your murder so i can get back home, hopefully.’ He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I just found my way here. I really want to go back home, but I don't know how to.” The sadness in his voice was genuine. He missed his old life, mundane as it was.

    “You guys don’t even have WiFi here!” he groaned, grabbing another book at random.

    Keith’s brows furrowed. “Have what?”

    "Nothing, nothing..." his voice trailed off as he shook his head, "I'm getting kinda tired now, i should go to bed- i mean mat," he said and quickly walked out of the library.

    Keith narrowed his eyes at the doorway and let out a chuckle, "even more interesting..."

    ♡♡♡

    “Er… here.” The young servant girl, Anya, handed Mars a neatly folded outfit as he was preparing for sleep. It was late.

    Mars cocked his head. “Who’s that for?”

    “For you, of course. I was told the prince sent it for you,” she informed him, giggling.

    “And why?”

    “To attend the Grandmasters' event! You are really lucky. It’ll only be a forlorn dream for someone like me to go there,” she said, her face downcast.

    “And I don’t want to go either. Why am I going?”

    “Because I want you to.” Keith’s dark voice echoed in the small room. He stood at the entrance, his tall, powerful frame seeming to fill the entire doorway, as if entering the humble space was beneath him.

    “Why?” Mars dared to question again.

    Keith’s lips curled into a smirk. “Be ready in thirty minutes, or else she'll be the one getting punished.” He pointed a lazy finger at the now-terrified Anya.

    Mars’s eyes went wide. “Kill me then! Not her!”

    “That wouldn’t be fun now, would it?”

    And so, in less than thirty minutes, Mars was dressed in attire fit for a high-class event.

    “Oh, he’s coming… with us?” Charlotte asked, her voice a saccharine drip of poison. Keith ignored her.

    Just as they were about to depart, another carriage, lacquered a brilliant gold and drawn by two pristine white horses, rolled into the courtyard. The door burst open, and a vibrant man leaped out. He was tall, just an inch shorter than Keith, with a lean, athletic build. His hair was a shock of sun-bleached blond, tied back in a topknot, and his eyes were pools of liquid obsidian, sparkling with mischief.

    “Your Highness!” he exclaimed, rushing toward Keith. “Yver,” Keith acknowledged with a slight nod, the closest he came to warmth with anyone.

    'Yver?' Mars tries to remember who this new character was.

    Marquis Yver Iskender, Keith’s childhood friend and the kingdom’s most notorious flirt.

    “Oh, your partner is such a pretty damsel,” Yver winked at the blushing Charlotte. His eyes then scanned the area, landing on Mars, who was trying to become one with the shadows. “And a pretty boy you have here, too!” he declared, striding over until he was far too close. “She will ride with you, and he will ride with me. Let’s go.” He grabbed Mars’s hand, surprising him, and led him toward the opulent golden carriage.

    Keith started, “Oh, he will ride-” Charlotte pretended to trip as she attempted to board Keith’s carriage. Keith caught her on reflex, and she blushed, snaking her arms around his neck. “Thank you… you’re so big and strong,” she giggled, pecking his lips.

    Inside the second carriage, Yver studied Mars with a wide, predatory grin. “So, how is sex with His Highness?""

    “What? Ah, no…” Mars cut him off, his face heating. “I am… not in that sort of thing with him, i am definitely straight.”

    Yver threw his head back and laughed. “Look who’s getting flustered! But that is certainly strange. Unless Keith is fucking you, aside from his favorite person- me, he never lets anyone else get close to him. Hmm…” He leaned forward, mischief brimming in his dark eyes. Mars gulped. Yver was a chaos agent, and he was now in his crosshairs.