Since the day her engagement was forcibly announced, a bitter truth had crystallized within Althea: no contract, no oath, no sweet promise was strong enough to protect her life if the Crown Prince someday decided to renege on their agreement.
Caspian might be able to postpone the death written for her, but he would never prevent it. And Althea, with all the mask of foolishness attached to her in the eyes of the world, was never naive enough to hang her life on the mercy of a man who looked at her as if she were a stain to be erased from his royal record.
She stood in front of her tall chamber window, gazing at the afternoon sky painted orange and purple, like blood mixed with gold. Below, the palace garden, perfectly manicured, stretched out like a living tapestry, yet to her, it was no more than a magnificent gilded cage.
Every step she took on the marble corridor was watched, every smile she showed was shadowed by a knife, every breath she drew felt measured by an invisible force that could one day choke her.
"I can't go on like this," she thought softly, addressing her own reflection in the window glass. "Relying entirely on Caspian's whim is slow suicide. I need another way. My own way out."
Pieces of memory from her old life as Gina began to piece themselves together like a puzzle in her mind. Psychology books she had read, articles on survival, even fictional stories about characters escaping duress—all converged to form the seed of a crazy plan. But any madness was better than passively awaiting execution.
However, what truly ignited the fire in her eyes was the memory of the Princess's words a few days ago—the poor girl trapped in the same system, albeit from a different side.
"If I could have a friend who listens like you do, Althea, even if I had to pay dearly for it, I would."
That sentence echoed in her head, not as a complaint, but as an enlightenment. Paying for a friend… paying to be listened to.
The notion sounded pathetic in her old world, but in this court full of pretense, it was a rare commodity. An unmet need. And she, with knowledge no one else in this world possessed, could provide it.
But to execute it, she needed one fundamental thing: freedom. Freedom to move, to observe, to build a network outside the towering palace walls. Or perhaps, a proxy character to gain that freedom.
She took a deep breath, turned around, and found Morfida tidying her bed. "Morfida," she said, her voice deliberately flat to hide the tremor in her tone. "I want to talk to you alone. Would the rest of you please leave? I feel embarrassed saying this in front of others."
The other maids who were cleaning the vases glanced at each other, hesitant. One of them, a young maid with a cunning face, even dared to whisper, "But, Your Highness, we are not finished—"
"It's alright if you can't. But I suppose I will just talk to Caspian later. It feels like you aren't listening to me and…"
Althea spoke the last word with a sad tone, but the effect of what she said instantly froze the air in the room.
"Forgive us, Your Highness, we will leave immediately."
The maids bowed quickly and scattered out, leaving Althea and Morfida alone.
As the door closed, Althea's shoulders slumped slightly. "Morfida," she whispered, her voice now filled with deep exhaustion. "You once said there's a country across the sea that accepts witches, didn't you? A place where they can live without being hunted?"
Morfida moved closer, her face furrowed with worry. "That is true, Mistress. But… only witches with great names, or those with sufficient wealth and influence, can be truly safe there. The weak will still be cast aside."
"Then," Althea looked directly at her, her eyes glinting with terrifying focus, "if a witch is rich enough, respected enough, and has strong influence… can she buy a noble title there? Can she buy unwavering protection?"
Morfida was silent for a long time, weighing her words. "In theory… yes. Money can open many doors, even in the land of witches. But it would be difficult for us to accomplish, Mistress."
Althea smiled, a small, cynical smile never seen on her face before. "Nothing is impossible, Morfida, if you are willing to pay the appropriate price." She walked back to the window, staring at the magnificent palace. "And for me, the price is freedom. Do you believe in me, Morfida?"
"Always, Mistress," Morfida answered without hesitation, though there was anxiety in her eyes. "Until my last breath."
"Good." Althea turned, her face now hardened with determination. "Because now, we begin."
***
Caspian's study was silent as a tomb when Althea pushed open its heavy door. The Crown Prince was sitting behind his large ebony desk, his long fingers elegantly turning the pages of a thick report. He did not even lift his head, as if Althea's presence was no more significant than the wind blowing through the window.
But Althea knew better. She could feel every muscle in his body tense under that hidden scrutiny. She was a mouse in a lion's cage.
"I wish to ask for permission," she said, breaking the silence deliberately manufactured to press down on her.
Caspian finally raised his head. His ice-blue eyes swept over her from head to toe, cold and judgmental. "Permission?" he drawled, the single word feeling like a whip. "For what?"
"To leave the palace. Just for a while. I want to go to the market."
Creeak. The book in Caspian's hand paused mid-page. The sound of tearing paper was almost inaudible, but to Althea, it was like thunder. Caspian looked at her, truly looking at her now, with an expression that was almost disbelief.
"The market?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The future Crown Princess, who can barely walk without tripping on the hem of her own gown, wants to go to the market? For what? To buy candy? Or perhaps… to look for new friends?" There was a sharp insinuation at the end of his sentence.
"To clear my mind," Althea replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She forced a small, innocent smile. "The palace… is too quiet. Too many walls. I need to hear people's voices, need to breathe air that doesn't smell of perfume and power."
Caspian slowly stood up. His towering height made him look like a giant rising. His shadow completely swallowed Althea, making her feel incredibly small and vulnerable. His face was calm, but that calmness was like the surface of a lake concealing a crocodile at its bottom.
He approached, his steps as silent as a large cat. Every step made Althea's heart beat faster. He stopped just a few feet from her, close enough for Althea to smell the scent of sandalwood and power clinging to him.
"Fascinating," he hissed, his voice so soft it was almost a caress, yet it made Althea's hairs stand on end. "Aren't you afraid, Althea? Afraid of the crowd? Afraid of the dirt? Or… afraid of me, should you try something foolish?"
"Of course I'm afraid," Althea answered, and this time, she wasn't lying. Her voice trembled slightly, and she didn't need to fake it. Her hands, hidden in the folds of her gown, clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. "But… fear shouldn't stop us from moving, should it? Shouldn't a Princess also get to know her people?"
Caspian watched her for a long time, his eyes examining every inch of her face, as if trying to find a crack in her mask. Althea held the gaze, even though it felt like being poked by ice needles. She allowed a hint of her genuine fear to show—her slightly trembling body, her quivering lip—while keeping her mind focused on her objective.
"I can bring several guard knights," she added quickly before Caspian could refuse. "They can watch me every second. Or… if Your Highness still doesn't trust me, I can even write a full report about every shop I visit, every person I speak to, if it would bring you peace." She gave the most innocent and harmless smile she could muster.
Caspian suddenly laughed. That low, beautifully resounding laugh actually froze Althea's blood. His laughter was more terrifying than his anger.
"You are indeed getting better at wordplay," he finally said, but his eyes remained wary. "Very well. I grant you this chance. Let us see how far this little 'courage' of yours can take you."
He bent down, bringing his perfect face close until his warm breath brushed Althea's earlobe. His voice was a whisper, cold and sharp as a dagger.
"But know this, Althea. If I catch even the slightest scent of betrayal from you… if you think this is an opportunity to run away or play with fire…" His breath paused for a moment, letting the threat hang in the air. "That head will separate from your body with ease. And trust me—I can find a hundred other girls to replace your position, but you… you will never find a replacement for this one life of yours."
Althea bowed her head, hiding her suddenly pale face. "Very well, Your Highness. Thank you for your… trust."
Caspian smiled faintly—a smile that didn't reach his eyes, a smile that was a permission to die. "Go. Don't make me regret this."
***
The capital market greeted her with an explosion of sensations. The sound of thousands of people talking, shouting, bargaining, laughing, created a living symphony of chaos. The aroma of exotic spices, sweat, grilled meat, and dust mixed into one, so different from the palace's sterile air. The colors of fabrics, fruits, and crafts flooded the eyes.
Surrounded by four heavily armed knights and Morfida beside her, Althea walked slowly. In the eyes of the people, she was a spectacle—a slightly plump woman in a gown too luxurious for the market, with a face considered ordinary, surrounded by guards. A strange noble descending from her ivory tower.
But behind the innocent gaze and shy smile she showed to the onlookers, her mind worked at high speed. Her sharp eyes scanned every corner, every face, searching for something—or someone—who could be the key to her plan.
And then, she saw her.
At a small stall selling bottles of multi-colored liquids, a young girl with tangled brown hair and pale yellow eyes like a dying sun was crouched down. Her body was thin, her bones almost piercing her dirty skin. Her hand, which was lifting a glass bottle containing a golden liquid, shook violently.
Crack!
The bottle slipped, hit the stone floor, and shattered. The golden liquid spilled, spreading a pungent, sweet aroma.
The girl's master, a fat man with a flushed face, immediately exploded. "You wretched child!" he roared, his large hand hitting the girl's back until she stumbled. "Do you know the price of that rare potion?! Ten years of your wages wouldn't be enough!"
The girl, Sunny—as her master had shouted—could only curl up, her hands protecting her head, her body trembling with fear.
"Please… forgive me, Master… it was an accident…" she sobbed, her voice hoarse and full of despair.
"Forgiveness? FORGIVENESS?!" the man lifted a large knife commonly used for cutting roots. "I'll give you a 'forgiveness' you'll take to your grave!"
Althea's eyes widened. Her instinct screamed to act. Before her mind could command, her body had moved forward.
"Stop, please!" she cried out, her voice higher and louder than she had planned.
But the man was too emotional. The knife began to swing toward the terrified Sunny.
Sreeeng!
Before the knife could touch skin, one of Althea's guard knights moved with deadly speed. His glittering sword flashed, parrying the knife with a loud, deafening clang of metal. The man's knife flew from his hand, spinning in the air before falling with a thud.
The entire market suddenly went silent. All eyes were on the scene.
Althea, her heart pounding, stepped forward. She walked toward the man who was now deathly pale and the girl still curled up on the ground.
"Why…" Althea said, her voice trembling, this time it wasn't acting. "Why must you hurt her like that?" She stared at the man, her pink eyes flashing with the tears of emotion. "What could possibly be so wrong? Just a bottle? Is an object more valuable than a life? You almost hurt her hand. She could be… oh my. Are you alright, Lady?" Althea said like an innocent, empathetic Lady.
The man, who now realized who the woman in front of him was—or at least, how important she was because she was surrounded by royal knights—immediately bowed deeply, shaking.
"Lady… it's not what you think. This slave…"
"Could you tell me," Althea interrupted, her voice suddenly becoming very soft, almost like a mother comforting a child, "what must I do to stop this cruelty? To save this poor girl from your hands?"
The man stammered, sweating cold. "You—You could… buy her. And… and replace the cost of the bottle she broke."
Althea stared at him for a long time, then slowly turned to Morfida. With just one glance, Morfida understood. She nodded, approached the man, and purchased the slave.
To everyone watching, perhaps they thought Althea was a kind Lady who cared for a slave.
But the reality was more than that. To Althea, the person she saved was not just a slave, but one more pawn to save her life.
And also as the final piece for her other plan.