The Qilio family, which Therion was a part of, was a prominent member of Aervelis’ upper echelons. Their fortune came mostly from landownership and trade, allowing them to be a significant power in the political landscape.

While they were viewed by most as benevolent and honorable, they also didn’t shy away from flaunting their wealth.

That was especially visible in the extravagant villa they built in the western part of the city, across the Ceris River.

The moment Saria stepped out of the carriage, all she could see was aurelianite, marble, and gold. All shaped into fountains, sculptures, and columns. All adorned with exotic flowers and trees, she was seeing for the first time.

She admitted in her heart that the villa could easily compete with the Royal Palace, albeit she still preferred spending her time in the latter.

Therion offered his arm to Lysandra and led her towards the main entrance.

Saria begrudgingly followed after them, but after just a few steps, someone pulled her away to the path leading to the side of the main building.

“Stupid thael! The kitchen is this way,” a short, black-haired woman scolded her. Judging by her clothes, she must have been one of the servant girls.

“I’m not a thael, I’m a daethri,” Saria groaned, trying to free herself from her shockingly strong grip.

“I don’t care if you’re Vitia herself. You’re still a slave, and a slave is supposed to serve their master, so stop whining and help prepare the wine and food.”

Saria cursed in her heart, but stopped resisting and followed the woman.

With the way Lysandra was treating her, it was easy for her to forget that, for the rest of the world, they were a mistress and a slave.

Their real relationship was known only to them, so there was nothing else left for her to do but to play along.

For the next twenty minutes, Saria patiently dealt with a litany of complaints, scolding, and a few times she was even smacked with a wet towel.

As it turned out, proficiency with all sorts of blades didn’t translate well to cutting and peeling vegetables. At least, not according to Leontia—the servant woman who dragged her there in the first place.

On the bright side, considering that the woman was still alive and well enough to keep hurling curses at her, despite the whole arsenal of sharp and blunt objects in the kitchen, Saria noted that her self-control was clearly getting better.

Tally would be proud, she thought after her back was smacked with the towel yet again.

“Where did you disappear to?” Lysandra asked when Saria entered the terrace holding a big silver platter with wine and fruits.

“In the Abyss. I faced the God of Torture,” she grumbled, sending daggers at Leontia walking next to her.

They placed the refreshments on the table, while Therion took the cups and filled them with wine.

“You have to try this. You’re going to love it,” he said, offering it to Lysandra.

Before she could take it, however, Saria snatched the cup out of Therion’s hand and took a big sip out of it.

“Sorry. Had to make sure there was no poison in it, with all the venom around,” she said, looking at a shocked Leontia. “As a slave should do.”

Therion recovered from the stun and laughed. “Interesting. You never offer to test my wine or food for poison, Leontia.”

The woman in question first turned pale, then green, and finally her face settled on an intense shade of red. Her lips flapped frantically, but no words came through.

Saria smirked, reveling in the small victory she had gotten.

“Maybe I should buy her off you, Lysandra? Such a caring servant is a real treasure,” he said with the same annoying smile as the first time they saw him.

“I’d rather eat sand,” Saria growled.

“Such dedication,” Therion teased, “How are you always able to make them so loyal, Lysandra?”

The Princess ran her fingers through her golden locks nonchalantly. “Personal charm.”

“I don’t lack any charm either,” Therion once again turned to Saria, “There are countless girls that would die to work for me, you know?”

“Are you sure it’s not ‘from working for you’?” she fired back. This man was slowly getting on her nerves.

She couldn’t understand what Lysandra saw in him. He was arrogant, annoying, and downright insufferable, in her opinion.

“Ouch,” he gasped, clutching his chest. “Nevertheless, I’m curious. What would you do if the wine really turned out to be poisoned? After all, you would be dead in seconds, and Lysandra would be all alone to defend herself.”

“Don’t worry. There are twenty… twenty-one ways for me to kill you, before the poison takes effect. It’s not going to be that easy to get rid of me,” she said, nearly burning a hole through him with her gaze.

He didn’t avert his eyes either.

The mood became tense, and the air thickened, as the seeds of rivalry started sprouting.

“That’s enough teasing, Therion. Leave her alone,” Lysandra said suddenly, dispelling the dense atmosphere. “Do you know when Zahra is coming back?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Last time I heard from her, she was still enjoying her time at the court of some duke or count. You know how she is,” Therion sighed, “As long as there is poetry and art, she’s not going to even consider leaving.”

He took a sip of his wine, then looked at Lysandra. “Are you going to tell her about Loukios?”

“No. There’s no need to involve her. She’s safer this way,” she answered. “Did you learn anything new?”

Therion glanced at Saria, hesitating before speaking.

“It’s alright. I trust her. You can speak freely,” Lysandra assured him.

“Rumor has it, there is a black market information broker named Mormo who’s supposed to know everything about anyone in the city. He could know something about Drusus.”

“Can you get me in contact with him?”

“Unfortunately, that’s out of my league. Mormo is hiding in an illegal brothel he owns. Only those with a special pass can enter. And as far as I can tell, those are handed out by Mormo himself. Every pass is personalized and enchanted, so forget about forgery. You need the real thing to get in.”

Lysandra frowned, lost in thought.

“I’ll have to find someone with the pass, then figure out how to get it from them. I doubt that they will give it willingly…” she wondered aloud.

“Do you want me to start looking into it?” asked Saria.

“No, I’ll have someone else take care of that. I need you for more important things,” Lysandra said, and looked at her, “You need to rest too. Use this time to recover from everything that happened.”

Watching the scene from the side, Therion didn’t miss the sudden change in Lysandra’s gaze the moment her eyes met Saria. It got softer, gentler, more caring. He never saw her look at anyone like that.

Not at him, not at Zahra, not even her family members.

He knew that their relationship wasn’t that of a mistress and a slave, he was aware of their deal, Lysandra told him herself. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. More than she was letting him know.

It annoyed him. He was her oldest friend. They met when they were still little children. Since then, he was the closest person to her. She told him everything. Confided every trouble and every hope to him.

And he loved her more than anyone could imagine.

They were both from higher spheres, rich, and attractive. People often commented on how good they looked together when they went out. For him, it was obvious that they were destined for each other.

So how was it possible that there was someone who was at the receiving end of this kind of expression, and he didn’t know about it?

Anxious feelings started slowly creeping into his heart, but he pushed them away.

It had to be one of her fascinations. It had to.

Every once in a while, Lysandra would meet someone, some woman, whom she would become very fond of. But every time it went away as fast as it came.

In the end, he was the only one who was constant in her life. He had no doubts that it was true for her heart, too. He just needed to be patient.

She just needed more time to see.

Just a little more time…