When he returned to the garden, she was no longer there. He hadn't intended to leave her behind; he had only stepped away to clear his thoughts and compose his mind. Quietly, he made his way to her chambers. There she was, her back facing him, murmuring softly to herself.
His gaze fell to the floor where the flower lay, forgotten. He picked it up gently and walked toward her. As she turned and saw him, she quickly wiped away her tears.
He crouched down beside her and extended the flower.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you alone," he said quietly. It was the first time he had ever spoken such words to her. He himself did not understand what was happening to him.
She looked at him in astonishment. To hear such words from him—from the almighty King Henderson—was beyond anything she had expected.
"It's alright. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have thrown the flower," she replied.
"It's fine," he murmured. Then he looked at the flower in his hand and asked, "Whose is this flower? To whom does it belong?"
He kept his eyes fixed on her. She tried to avoid his gaze, but it was impossible—his eyes held her like a prisoner, unwilling to release either her face or her form.
"I presume this flower was meant for someone special. Am I correct?" he said. She met his gaze and nodded gently.
"And who might that person be?" he asked, his voice softer now. She hesitated briefly before replying.
"You. I wanted to give it to you," she said, smiling faintly.
He studied her smile for a moment, then took the flower from her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Thank you," he murmured. A thought crossed his mind—strange and unsettling. He wanted to ask her something he couldn't explain. She had done something to him, though he could not say what.
"I want to ask you something," Henderson said.
"Okay," she replied quietly, watching him.
"Did you cast a spell on me?" he asked bluntly.
She stared at him, surprised. Her heart pounded within her chest.
"Did you?" he repeated, his gaze unwavering.
"No. I would never do such a thing," she answered firmly.
"Do you…" he paused, hesitant, then blurted out, "Do you have a spell on your vagina?"
He was appalled at himself for voicing the thought. It was true that he felt something for her—he desired her, craved her, loved everything about her—but this question, it had slipped past his lips before he could restrain it.
"My vagina?" she repeated in disbelief.
"I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you such a question," he stammered, looking away. He stood, cast her a final glance, and exited the room.
Later, seated on his bed, he poured himself a glass of wine.
"Damn it," he muttered to himself. "Did you cast a spell on your vagina? I can't believe I said that to her. How utterly foolish."
He took a sip and buried his face in his palm.
The following day…
Omega drove out of the hotel and made his way to her home. He couldn't stop thinking about her, and it occurred to him that he still didn't know her name. Though, to be fair, he had never asked.
"I need to know her name," he whispered to himself.
Within minutes, he arrived at her house and knocked on the door. She rushed to open it, and when she saw it was him, her face lit up with a smile. She welcomed him inside and offered him a seat.
"I'll get you something to eat," she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
He didn't refuse. There was something about her that made it impossible to say no. He had spent several days in her company, and during that time, he had installed surveillance cameras discreetly.
She returned with a plate of food and a drink—the same drink he had purchased the previous day. He smiled and began eating, while she sat opposite him, silently observing. When he was done, she cleared the table and returned to sit beside him.
"Thank you," he said, smiling.
"You're welcome," she replied warmly.
"I need to tell you something," she began, her voice somber. "When King Raymond was alive, he had a son named Roy. Roy married his childhood friend at the age of sixteen. His wife was just fourteen. Princess Eve was only ten at the time. Their marriage barely lasted a year before Grayson unleashed his cruelty. He poisoned both the king and his son, Roy. By then, Roy's wife had given birth to a son.
"Grayson was merciless. He murdered Roy's wife. Before he died, Roy entrusted his son to my care—he trusted me. His sister, Princess Eve, was still very young.
"That same year, Grayson violated King Raymond's wife. He did it in the presence of her daughter, Amelia. The little girl watched her mother cry and curse the man who had destroyed her. Not long after, her mother died. That night, Amelia cried herself to sleep. She had lost her mother, her father, and her brother.
"I pitied her… poor child. She suffered deeply at the hands of her uncle," she said, wiping her tears.
Grayson then seized control of the kingdom and ruled with an iron fist. I remained in the palace and cared for Roy's son and Princess Amelia. Amelia was a smart and brave girl. I doubt Grayson realized she could grow into a capable ruler, or he would have killed her, too.
"There's a lie that a woman cannot rule the kingdom, but that's not true. King Raymond had signed a decree stating that his daughter would inherit the throne after him. It's her right—should she choose to accept it.
"Grayson became more monstrous by the day. I wasn't surprised when he turned his cruelty on the neighboring kingdom—the one ruled by Henderson's father, King Harry. He killed King Harry and violated his wife, until she passed out.
"Years later, he forced me to leave the palace. He humiliated me because I opposed his wickedness. I had told him that Richard was not of royal blood, that he was just a village boy with no family. He believed me—that's why he didn't pursue the boy. I told Amelia to protect her brother, and I'm glad she did," she said and paused, her voice heavy with emotion.
"Ten years later, I was both relieved and saddened when I heard that Henderson had killed Grayson. Relieved, because justice was served. Saddened, because I knew Henderson sought vengeance. It broke my heart when I learned he had captured the princess, her brother, and her maid. She is just an innocent girl. I have prayed that the king would listen to you and me. He won't believe her—he'll think she fabricated a tale."
"This is tragic," Omega murmured. "The king doesn't believe me either. He thinks I'm only defending the princess out of pity."
"I know, my son. But he will believe you once he sees me," she said.
"What makes you so sure?" Omega asked.
"Because I wasn't the only one in the palace. Many people know this story—they're simply afraid to speak."
"Many?" he echoed, surprised. "Even her own people?"
"Yes," she nodded solemnly.
"But why would they keep such a secret?"
"Because they're afraid. Afraid that the king will kill them. You and I both know Henderson became heartless because of what happened to his parents—especially his mother. It's why he made the princess his slave."
Omega knew her words were true.
"But still," he said. "Why would Grayson do that to King Raymond's wife?"
"You ask many questions," she said, gently smiling.
"I'm sorry."
"No, son. You don't have to apologize. It's good that you want to understand."
She sighed, then continued. "Grayson was evil. He did the same to Henderson's mother. As for Raymond's wife, there was a reason. You see, when King Raymond was still in school, he met a girl named Diana. They began to date. Grayson was jealous and bitter—he tried to take Diana from him. But she didn't love him. She reported him to the late King Stephen. The king scolded Grayson harshly, and from that moment, he resented his brother even more."
"Were they from the same mother?" Omega asked.
She smiled again and answered, "No. Raymond's mother was King Stephen's lawful wife. She struggled to conceive. Grayson's mother was the king's mistress. Ronda gave birth to Grayson two years after Stella gave birth to Raymond."
"How do you know all of this?" he asked. She seemed far too young to have witnessed it.
"My father was King Stephen's personal advisor. That's how I came to live in the palace. The king provided us a home there."
"I'm sorry if I'm prying," Omega said softly. "What about your husband?"
"He was killed—by Grayson. My husband had refused to participate in the king's assassination. They had been childhood friends. After Grayson murdered Raymond, he came for my husband, too."
She wiped her tears again.
"I had a son back then. He was only fourteen when I sent him away. Grayson had threatened to kill him, just like his father. I was terrified. I couldn't bear to lose them both. I don't know where he is now. He must hate me for sending him away."
Omega reached out to console her and apologized once more for stirring painful memories. Her sorrow reminded him of his own past, and as she spoke, he, too, wiped away tears.
She touched his chin gently and offered him a weak smile. He stood.
"I have to go now. Please take care of yourself. I'll visit again soon," he said with a kind smile.
She nodded and excused herself. "I'll be right back," she said, then returned with a food flask from the kitchen.
He thanked her. As he turned to leave, he suddenly remembered what he had come for.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Miriam," she replied, smiling.
He smiled, took out his phone, and saved the name. While she had been in the kitchen, he had removed the hidden cameras he had previously set up. She never knew they were there. Before leaving, he kissed her gently on the cheek.
Outside, he had brought foodstuffs and clothing for her. Those who lived nearby whispered among themselves as they watched.
"Miriam! Who is that man? He's so handsome," an elderly woman remarked.