After their return to the Royal Palace from Nivelis, Saria and Lysandra planned to spend the next day recovering and planning their next step.

Nevertheless, things didn’t go exactly as intended, when the next morning the Princess received a message that Praetor Decimus Sulla was requesting to meet with her.

Sulla was known to Lysandra, as everyone in the upper class knew about his hopeless addiction to gambling and terrible management of his wealth.

There were also rumors about the way he would treat his slaves and servants.

Most of them didn’t paint him in a good light.

When the Princess received the request, she was rather flabbergasted. She had no idea what someone like him could potentially want from her.

Fortunately, things became clear as soon as they sat down on the terrace to talk.

“Your Highness, I will get straight to the point,” said Sulla, taking a sip of the wine he was offered, “I want to buy off a slave from you.”

Lysandra’s graceful eyebrows rose in surprise. “Which one?”

“The girl you recently purchased. The daethri from the Arena.”

The Princess focused all of her attention on the man. “And why exactly do you want to buy her?”

Sulla shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

He was expecting that there could be a slight push-back on her side. That’s why he prepared the perfect—according to him—argument.

“Well… You see, Your Highness, slaves like this, their blood runs too hot, they need constant action. They don’t do well as personal… enjoyments. I have a bunch of servants that would be a perfect fit for Your Highness. I would gladly give them to you.”

“I never said Saria won’t fight anymore.”

Sulla smiled awkwardly, feeling somewhat annoyed that this dull woman still needed more convincing.

“Tending to a daethri is more than just putting them in fights, Your Highness. It requires a lot of strategy, planning, and knowledge. There’s no need to sully Your Highness’ fair mind with such pragmatic matters.”

Lysandra raised her chin and looked at him from under her long eyelashes. “And you have all of the required qualities, I presume?”

“Of course! It’s been a hobby of mine for over twenty years. I like to think about myself as a connoisseur of the profession,” Sulla gloated shamelessly.

“Is that why out of thirteen daethri you had, only two are still alive, Praetor?”

A kaleidoscope of colors washed over his face. “W-well… it’s…” he stuttered, “it’s still a deadly sport. Casualties are inevitable.”

Lysandra smirked but didn’t answer. She turned to the maid waiting by the entrance to the terrace and told her to call Saria.

Hearing this, Praetor Sulla immediately perked up, as he was convinced that it was a sign that the deal was accepted.

“You won’t regret this, Your Highness! I will at once pick the best lot from the thaels that I own,” he chirped with excitement.

Lysandra gave him a side eye without saying anything.

“You wanted to see me?” Saria asked when she came over a short moment later. She looked at the man ogling her with disgust.

“Praetor Sulla has offered to buy you. He said that you will waste under my care,” Lysandra told her.

Saria’s eyes darted from the Princess to the disgusting man, then back to the Princess. “I don’t want to. I like it here.”

Lysandra smiled and gestured at her to sit next to her, then turned to Sulla.

“I believe this is your answer, Praetor.”

Sulla had his jaw drop to the floor. It was the first time he experienced something so ridiculous!

“Your Highness, it’s just a slave… What’s the point of asking their opinion? You wouldn’t ask a vase if it wanted to be sold, would you?” he stammered, barely holding the anger inside.

“A daethri that doesn’t respect their master has no reason to fight, Praetor Sulla. A ‘connoisseur’ like yourself should know this.”

Praetor straightened his back and flapped his thin lips like a fish, struggling to find words.

He couldn’t understand how it was possible that a simple conversation with such a dull woman kept rendering him unable to answer.

“Naturally, Your Highness, you’re absolutely right,” he forced out finally, “It was my oversight. Let me then explain the benefits of being under my protection to the slave.”

Not waiting for permission, Praetor Sulla launched his flowery tirade on how heavenly life as his property would be.

He spared no words to describe just how many benefits it carried and what a bright future was awaiting anyone who accepted his offer.

Saria, however, didn’t listen. Her whole attention was stolen by Lysandra’s slender fingers tracing the edge of her ear, caressing the earlobe, and sliding down to her jaw.

She felt a pleasant shiver as Lysandra’s nails grazed her neck and dipped to her collarbones.

She turned her head, and their eyes met.

Mischief dancing in the golden eyes, fueled by a note of defiance. Something that she couldn’t help being captivated by ever since they met.

Lysandra’s hand moved to Saria’s nape. Her head tilted slightly, and her lips curved with a daring smile.

Her eyes dropped from the crimson irises to the full lips. An offer of her own.

Saria accepted it gladly.

They met halfway. Lips connecting over stolen breath.

The comforting scent of citrus caressed her senses. An experience she was growing more and more fond of.

Their soft lips locked in a gentle dance, playfully teasing and caressing one another. Pulled into their own world that didn’t care about the people around.

But the people around were still there. Specifically, Praetor Sulla, who was taken aback so much that the words got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t even make a sound.

Lost for words, he eventually resorted to making a tactful signal by clearing his throat.

That, however, had an effect different than anticipated.

Lysandra deepened the kiss. It happened with such intensity and passion that it surprised even Saria. Being completely unprepared, a muted moan escaped her lungs and disappeared between their lips.

With that, Sulla reached the limits of his patience and tolerance. He was willing to give the Princess the chance to save her face, but doing something so obscene in front of him?

Despicable!

The man sprang up and, without a word, strode out of the Palace.

“Finally. I thought he would never leave,” Lysandra said, breaking off the kiss the moment he disappeared inside.

She took a sip of her wine, trying to mask the shaken breath. She didn’t want to admit it, but every time they kissed, it affected her a little too much.

“You know, you could’ve just told him to leave,” Saria said, her voice huskier than before.

Lysandra looked at her again and smirked. “And where would be the fun in that?”

The golden eyes dropped to her lips again and lingered there a moment too long, making Saria’s heart race in response.

Lysandra got up, pushing the feeling away, and gestured to the girl to follow her.

“Sulla wasn’t entirely wrong,” she said, entering the corridor leading to her chambers. “Fighting in the arena could give you a lot of benefits. Every victory would bring you not only fame, but also respect and money.

“One day you will be free. Then you would be able to live comfortably off the money you made in the arena. You should consider it as an investment for the future.”

Saria never thought about what would happen once their deal was over. Somehow, the thought of their ways parting made her feel uneasy, so she stayed silent, listening to what Lysandra had to say.

“As a daethri with a master, you’re not forced to fight to the death anymore,” the Princess continued, “As long as you stay down, your life will be spared. And the matches are always one-on-one. For someone with your skill, it wouldn’t be difficult to reach the top.”

She stopped by the door to her room and looked at Saria. “I will never force you to fight, but I can help you find a match if you want. It has to be your decision.”

Saria knew that Lysandra’s intentions were pure. They didn’t spend that much time together yet, but she instinctively knew she could trust her. So far, she was the only one to show her real kindness. She was the only one to silence the demons planted by her past.

“Let’s do it,” she agreed, “I trust your judgment.”

Lysandra smiled and pushed the door open, letting them inside.

“As your dheris, I will provide all the equipment for you, including armor. Do you have any preferences?” she asked, resting on the settee by the balcony.

Saria joined her on the sofa next to it.

“I don’t really like armor. It slows me down. I fight better if I can keep all of my mobility, even at the cost of defense.”

“Distracting your enemies by being half naked could count as a strategy,” Lysandra teased.

“I never said anything about being half naked, but if this is where you want to take it, then why stop at ‘half’?” Saria teased back.

“Are we still talking about the arena?”

“You tell me.”

There it was again. The spark ignited between them when their eyes met. The mood changed, grew heavier, more… intimate.

Lysandra forced herself to retract her gaze. “I’ll let you know when everything is settled. You’re free for now.”

Saria hesitated briefly. The sudden change caught her off guard. Sometimes, she felt like she was beginning to understand her, but then moments like this happened, and she was at a loss.

“Is there anything else?” Lysandra asked, noticing that Saria didn’t move.

“Can I ask you something?”

The Princess smiled slyly. “I believe you already did.”

Saria opened her mouth, then closed, then opened again, caught off guard by this statement.

Seeing this, Lysandra laughed. “Ask. I’ll try answering as honestly as I can.”

“Why do you let people think about you so poorly. You’re clearly nothing like what they believe, so why the act?”

“That’s an easy one,” Lysandra relaxed, “You would be surprised by the secrets people are willing to share when they believe you’re too stupid to understand.

“I may be the Princess, but the society we live in doesn’t have the most flattering opinion about women. As far as my memory can reach, I was always told I am this or that, and no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t change their mind. So I stopped trying,” she shrugged.

“Now, not only can I have some fun of my own, but those buffoons are so eager to flap their tongues without any restraint around me that I don’t even need spies to find dirt on them.”

Saria rubbed her cheek awkwardly. “But still… doesn’t it bother you?”

Lysandra took a deep breath and looked like she was really pondering the question.

“Hm… No. Not really,” she said eventually. “The people whose opinions are important to me already know who I am, so why should I waste energy on those who aren’t willing to even try knowing me?”

“Fair enough. I didn’t think about it this way.”

“Does it bother you to be associated with someone of my reputation?”

“Not at all. If anything, I’m proud to be among the selected few who get to know the real you,” Saria smiled, puffing her chest.

“And what makes you believe that I’m not acting in front of you, too?” Lysandra prepped her chin on her hand and gazed deeply into the crimson eyes.

“I have a hunch,” Saria grinned, then got up without delaying any further. “Anyway, I should go before Dolores forces me to run loops around the Palace for leaving her in the middle of cleaning the cellar.”

“How long was it this time?” the Tall Guard asked his colleague, the moment Saria closed the door behind her.

Recently, she learned that his name was Alkaios, while his shorter friend was Heron.

“Ten minutes. It’s the record so far,” Heron answered with a grin.

Saria rolled her eyes and looked at them. “You two need to find a hobby.”

“Cheer up. It looks like you’re getting faster,” Alkaios smirked at her. “If you get fast enough, maybe even Her Highness will be impressed and will decide to keep you.”

“That’s right!” chimed in the other, “We’re only doing it for you.”

Saria glared at them, but they didn’t seem to care. “One day, I’ll kill you both,” she groaned.

“At least I know I will die fast,” Heron declared while folding his hands over his heart with a dramatic flourish, causing his friend to burst out laughing.

“Just you wait, you morons. Someday, I’ll be the one laughing,” she muttered and left as fast as she could.