The darkness pressed against Lena’s eyes like a living thing.
She knelt on cold stone, her wrists raw from rope, her knees aching against the unyielding floor. The blindfold smelled of dust and age, and beneath it, something metallic—old blood, maybe, or just the scent of a place where death had visited too many times to count.
Around her, the temple had come alive.
She heard them filing in—the important guests. Soft footsteps of nobles in fine robes, the heavier tread of advisors and priests. Their whispers rustled like dry leaves, a hundred voices murmuring in a language she still couldn’t quite grasp.
They took their seats around the altar, spectators at a performance.
And Lena was the star.
They’ve come to watch me die.
The thought should have terrified her more than it did. But terror had limits, had depths, and Lena had already sunk past them.
Now there was only cold, and waiting, and the faint sound of breathing somewhere in the darkness that she knew was Ezra.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
The queen’s voice rose above the murmurs.
Beautiful. Reverent. A prayer to the gods, asking blessing on the sacrifice. Her words flowed like water over stones, smooth and endless, filling the temple with false holiness.
But Lena felt something else beneath the prayer.
A dark undercurrent. A pull.
The air grew heavy, thick as honey, and somewhere nearby she heard water moving—the basin beside the altar rippling without wind, without touch, without explanation.
The queen wasn’t praying to the gods.
She was casting a curse.
Lena’s breath came faster. She pulled against her bonds, felt rope bite deeper, tasted fresh blood on her tongue.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, a desperate animal trying to escape.
No.
No, I don’t want to die.
Not like this.
Not now.
Not without—
Heavy footsteps approached.
The executioner.
Lena heard him breathe—a man’s breath, slow and patient. He’d done this before. He would stand there with his axe raised, waiting for the queen’s signal.
Waiting for her prayer to finish.
Waiting to end her life.
The queen’s voice rose to a terrible crescendo.
Lena sobbed. A scream clawed up her throat, trapped behind teeth clenched so tightly her jaw ached.
Then—
THWACK.
A sound like metal striking flesh.
A scream—sharp, startled.
Not hers.
Something clattered across the stone floor.
The executioner’s axe.
Gasps exploded through the temple.
Voices rose in confusion, chaos rippling through the gathered nobles.
The queen’s voice cut through it like a blade.
“WHO THREW THAT?!”
Silence followed.
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A heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Then another voice spoke.
Calm. Steady. Unmistakable.
“I did.”
?
The crowd parted.
Lena heard robes shifting, sandals scraping as bodies moved aside.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Confident.
She felt him before she understood.
Warmth, cutting through the cold air of the temple.
A scent reached her—leather, cedar, and something unmistakably him.
The man from the alley.
The kiss-stealer.
He stopped beside her.
She heard him kneel.
Gentle hands touched her face. Careful fingers found the knot behind her head and loosened the blindfold.
Light burst across her vision.
She blinked hard, tears streaming as her eyes adjusted.
And saw him.
Dark eyes. A pale scar through his left brow. Stubbled jaw. High cheekbones.
Those same infuriating lips.
He studied her face carefully, as if committing every detail to memory.
Recognition flickered in his gaze.
“Ah,” he murmured softly.
“I remember her now.”
He stood and turned toward the assembled court.
Behind him, the king’s voice thundered.
“SARRI?! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!”
The king had leapt to his feet, his face flushed with fury.
“You disrupt a sacred ceremony! You throw a goblet at the executioner! Have you lost your mind?!”
Sarri turned slightly toward the throne.
“Give me a moment, Father,” he said calmly. “I’ll explain.”
Without waiting for permission, he faced the court and raised his voice.
“I regret to inform everyone here that I have already shared a bed with this woman.”
A wave of shocked gasps swept through the temple.
Whispers spread like wildfire through the gathered nobles.
Lena’s face went crimson.
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
What?!
Across the altar, the queen stood frozen.
Because what could she say?
She could hardly announce she needed Lena’s pure blood for a curse.
Not in front of the king.
Not in front of the entire court.
Sarri gave a small, polite smile.
“My apologies for disrupting the ceremony,” he said smoothly. “I will take responsibility for her from now on.”
The king stared at him for a long moment.
The entire temple held its breath.
Finally, the king waved a dismissive hand.
“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”
“Just handle it and get her out of here.”
The queen gasped—sharp, furious, helpless.
Sarri caught her eye across the temple.
And smiled.
?
Before Lena could react, Sarri bent down and hoisted her over his shoulder.
“What—put me down!”
“Stop squirming.”
“I will slap you again!”
“You can try.”
He strode through the stunned crowd.
Past whispering nobles.
Past the fuming queen.
Past the indifferent king.
Lena bounced helplessly against his shoulder, her hair hanging toward the floor.
“This is humiliating!”
“You prefer dead?”
“I prefer walking!”
“Not an option.”
The temple doors swung open ahead of them.
Sunlight flooded the steps.
?
Outside, the brightness was blinding.
Warm sunlight touched Lena’s skin for the first time since arriving in this nightmare.
The temple doors slammed shut behind them.
At the bottom of the steps waited a chariot.
Two horses stamped impatiently.
A man held the reins—tall, sharp-eyed, relaxed but alert.
“My prince,” he greeted.
Then he looked at Lena.
One eyebrow rose.
“…Why is there a woman on your shoulder?”
“Long story.”
Sarri dropped Lena into the chariot.
She scrambled upright and glared at both men.
The driver’s other eyebrow lifted.
“We’re taking her with us?”
“Yes.”
“Does she bite?”
“She slapped me.”
A slow grin spread across his face.
“I like her already.”
Lena crossed her arms.
“I don’t like either of you.”
Sarri ignored her.
“Zida,” he said.
“Drive.”
The chariot lurched forward.
?
The city slowly faded behind them.
Stone streets gave way to open roads and fields of gold and green.
Wind whipped Lena’s hair as she gripped the rail.
Sarri stood beside her, silent.
Zida drove steadily, occasionally glancing back at her.
Finally Lena spoke.
“You’re not on the queen’s side.”
Sarri didn’t hesitate.
“I have never been on her side.”
Relief flooded her chest.
Maybe she wasn’t alone after all.
She grabbed his arm.
“She has my uncle.”
Sarri looked down at her hand gripping his sleeve.
Then at her face.
“Ezra,” she said desperately. “She trapped him here years ago. Please… you have to help me.”
Something shifted in his expression.
“I will help you.”
Her breath caught.
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Not yet.”
“But—”
“If we return now,” Sarri said quietly, “we die.”
She fell silent.
“We will save him,” he continued. “But first…”
The chariot slowed.
Ahead rose a large estate surrounded by stone walls and bustling servants.
“You need somewhere safe.”
Lena stared.
“Where are we?”
Sarri stepped down and offered her his hand.
“My home.”
?
Sarri barely stayed long enough to hand her off to servants.
“Rest. Eat. I’ll return.”
Then he was gone.
Lena stood alone in a beautiful room, trying to breathe.
The room should have felt welcoming.
Instead it felt like a cage.
She stood by the window, staring at a world she didn’t recognize.
Somewhere in this ancient land, Ezra was alive.
Waiting.
And she had left him behind.
I’ll come back.
Minutes passed.
Then—
A knock.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
A boy stepped inside.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen. Barefoot. Carrying a tray of bread and fruit.
And staring at her like she was a miracle.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
“You’re really here.”
Lena blinked.
“I… yes?”
The boy stepped inside, practically vibrating with excitement.
“The whole estate is talking about you! No one can believe Sarri brought a woman here. He never does that!”
Lena stared.
“I’m sorry—who are you?”
He straightened proudly.
“My name is A??u,” he said. “Sarri assigned me to serve you.”
He lifted the tray.
“I brought food.”
Then he leaned closer.
“And also I wanted to see you myself because everyone says you’re Sarri’s new concubine.”
Lena’s face turned red.
“I am NOT his concubine!”
“Oh.”
A??u looked disappointed.
“…But you’re still very pretty.”
“And you slapped him?” he added eagerly.
Lena sighed.
“He deserved it.”
A??u grinned.
“I like you already.”
?
Lena sat beside him.
“So… you’re my servant?”
“Yep!”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen. Almost fourteen.”
“And your brother?”
A??u brightened.
“Zida! He’s Sarri’s right-hand man.”
Then his smile faded slightly.
“He’s always worried,” the boy admitted. “About Sarri. About the queen. About Mur?ili…”
Lena looked up.
“Mur?ili?”
“Sarri’s younger brother.”
A??u lowered his voice.
“The queen killed his mother.”
Lena froze.
“They said it was an accident,” he whispered.
“But everyone knows the truth.”
Silence settled in the room.
Finally Lena spoke.
“A??u… the queen has my uncle. An older man named Ezra.”
The boy frowned.
“I think prisoners are kept beneath the temple.”
Her heart raced.
“Can you take me there?”
A??u’s eyes widened.
“NO!”
He grabbed her hands.
“It’s too dangerous!”
Lena sighed.
He was right.
“Then tell Sarri,” she said quietly. “Tell him I need to speak with him tonight.”
A??u nodded.
“I will. I promise.”
He headed toward the door, then paused.
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
He smiled.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
He hesitated.
“Even if you’re not a concubine.”
Lena laughed.
And for the first time since arriving in this strange world, the sound felt real.
?
Outside the window, the sun dipped behind distant mountains.
Somewhere in this ancient land, Ezra waited in chains.
Somewhere, the queen plotted her revenge.
Somewhere, a prince who had stolen her first kiss and saved her life with a lie was probably wondering what trouble he had just invited into his world.
But here, for the first time since arriving in the past, Lena felt something she hadn’t felt before.
Hope.
