Chapter 17 The Long night

Chapter 17 The Long night
“Ensure he cannot walk straight tomorrow, Eris. I want him so thoroughly satisfied that he signs the port treaties before breakfast.”
Those were Madame Viveca’s parting words before we were entombed in the Royal Wing. The door groaned shut with a heavy, final thud, leaving me in a room that smelled of sandalwood, vintage spirits, and the predatory aura of Prince Azrael.
The Prince discarded his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto the floor like common refuse. He turned to me, his gaze analytical. Unlike other men who viewed me as mere flesh, Azrael looked at me like a puzzle he was determined to solve.
“So,” Azrael began, seating himself at the edge of the massive bed as he poured a glass of liquid gold. “Are you going to carry out your Queen’s orders? Will you start unzipping that dress, or can we actually talk like human beings for once?”
I didn’t flinch. I bypassed the bed and walked toward the balcony. “Do you truly want me to undress, Your Highness? Or do you just want another confirmation that everyone in this house has a price?”
The glass froze against his lips. Azrael laughed—a genuine, booming sound, devoid of the plastic charm he fed Viveca. “Straight to the point. I like that. In my country, women always speak in riddles until I’m bored to death. Sit, Eris. Let’s talk about why a girl with eyes as sharp as yours is cleaning toilets in this godforsaken house.”
We didn’t sleep. But contrary to Viveca’s expectations and Julian’s darkest fears, there was no physical intimacy.
Azrael was fascinated. Not by my beauty, but by the fact that every answer I gave was stripped of flirtation. No effort. When he asked about politics, I gave him truths that bled. When he asked about power, I told him his crown was as fragile as glass in the face of the right stone.
“You’re not a protégé,” Azrael remarked as the sun began to bleed over the horizon. We were sitting on the balcony floor, watching the mist swallow Ivy Heights. “You’re a survivor masquerading as a slave. Tell me, if I give Viveca the codes, what do you get?”
“Nothing,” I replied, staring at the toes of my shoes. “I get another day of breathing. For me, that’s enough.”
“Come to Zandoria,” he said suddenly. He produced a gold card from his wallet. It wasn’t a calling card; it was a Royal Pass—a document that could bypass any border. “My country doesn’t have a Sanctum. But we have a place for people who speak the truth without fear. If you ever find a way to escape this cage, use this. It’s a debt of gratitude for the most honest conversation I’ve had in ten years.”
He stood up, straightening his rumpled shirt. I looked up at him. “What will you tell Madame V?”
Azrael smirked, reaching out to ruffle my hair—not as a lover, but as a friend who shared a secret. “I’ll tell her exactly what she wants to hear. People like her always find filth more believable than gold.”
At eight in the morning, the doors to the Royal Wing swung open.
Madame Viveca was there, flanked by Julian, whose face was a deathly shade of white. His eyes locked onto me—the wrinkled emerald silk, my disheveled hair, the exhaustion etched into my skin. I saw the heartbreak in his gaze, a silent scream of agony he was desperately trying to bury.
“Your Highness,” Viveca greeted, her eyes shimmering with greed. “I trust the night was… productive.”
Azrael stepped over his discarded clothes and approached her. He leaned in, his voice loud enough to ensure Julian heard every word.
“Productive?” Azrael let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Madame, Eris is… exceptional. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted in my entire life. Her talents go so far beyond your curriculum that I actually forgot the most important meal of the day.”
I saw Julian flinch. His fists were white-knuckled at his sides, trembling.
“I am so impressed,” Azrael continued, “that I shall leave a small token of appreciation.”
His men placed a massive black case on the table. Inside was a custom Zandorian jewelry set—diamonds the size of grapes—and a check with enough zeros to fund the Sanctum for a year.
“And for Eris,” Azrael turned to me, winking secretly as he handed me a smaller velvet box containing the Royal Pass. “A personal gift. In case you ever decide on a… round two.”
Viveca was purring with delight. “You’ve outdone yourself, Eris. At this rate, a Rank 1 position is yours.”
“I did what was necessary, Madame,” I replied, pitching my voice low to simulate exhaustion.
Azrael glanced at Julian before departing. “Thorne, you’ve trained her well. But next time, don’t look so miserable. You look like a man who just lost his wife. It’s just business, right?”
Julian didn’t answer. He remained frozen as the Prince’s entourage faded away. Viveca approached me, cupping my face. “You’ve saved the port treaty. You are done with the toilets. Get to your quarters, clean up, and prepare. You’re moving to the Top 10.”
The first thing I did in my quarters was turn on the shower.
I remembered being a child, coming home from the beach with Papa. He would wrap me in a warm towel and tell me that water washes away the sand and the salt. But the water of the Sanctum couldn’t wash away the feeling of filth, even when nothing had happened.
The steam reminded me of the foggy morning with Azrael. Of all the men I had encountered here, it was a Prince who finally saw me as a human being. The Royal Pass hidden in my robe weighed a ton. It was hope. And in Ivy Heights, hope was more dangerous than poison.
I was wrapping myself in a robe when the door burst open. No knock.
Julian.
“Get out,” I said, not looking at him.
“Did he hurt you?” His voice cracked. He didn’t listen; he moved closer, grabbing my shoulders to force me to face him. “Tell me the truth, Margo. Did he… did he really…”
“What do you care?” I spat, shoving his hands away. “Isn’t this my job? Isn’t this what your mother wanted? Why are you acting like this now? You’re the one who watched the training sessions, Julian! You’re the one who hardened your heart!”
“I thought I could protect you!” he roared, his voice thick with frustration. “I thought if I kept you at the bottom, they wouldn’t use you like this! But Azrael… he said you were exceptional. He said he was exhausted. Was it really that easy for you to give everything away just for the mission?”
I looked at him, and for a split second, I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to tell him that Azrael and I only spoke of freedom. That the Prince was more of a gentleman than he had ever been.
But I remembered Leo. I remembered the White Room. I remembered that Julian was the only person who could ruin my plan if he stayed emotional.
“Yes,” I answered coldly. “He was a Prince, Julian. He was charming, wealthy, and he treated me better in one night than you did in three years. Why wouldn’t I give him everything?”
Julian’s face crumbled. It was as if I had driven a blade directly into his chest. He stepped back, his eyes clouded with betrayal and self-loathing.
“So that’s it,” he whispered. “You’ve finally become one of them.”
“I became what you made me, Julian. Do not complain about the look of the monster you raised yourself.”
I turned my back on him, clutching the Zandorian pass in my pocket.
“Get out, Sir,” I added. “I need to rest. I’m exhausted from my… ‘talents.’”
I heard the door click shut. Finally, I was alone. I collapsed onto the bed, my body trembling.
The plan is working. Viveca trusts me. I have a way out of the country. And Julian… Julian is finally, completely broken.
But as I looked at the diamond necklace on the table, I didn’t feel victorious. I felt a profound, dark hollow. Azrael had left me with a realization: even a stranger could see the truth in me, while the man who claimed to love me was blinded by his own guilt.
I am in the Top 10 now. The mission to save Leo is back on track.
But as I look at myself in the mirror, I no longer see Margo’s ghost. I see a woman ready to burn everything down—including the heart of the man who keeps trying to anchor her to a past that no longer exists.
The port codes are in Viveca’s hands. The Royal Pass is in mine. And the war for the Sanctum is about to reach its boiling point.
I am Eris, the Emerald of Zandoria. But to the Thornes, I am the poison they so willingly swallowed.