Chapter • 01

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱

There was much to be said regarding history, but nothing left me as astounded as that. The firm, warm arms of the man I had always dreamed of were around me, and he looked at me with a smile in his violet eyes that I admired so much.

He seemed real.

"What's the matter?" he asked me with a hoarse and gentle voice.

"Ahm... nothing," I replied, questioning whether all of this was a dream or not. But he was still there, and his eyes closed as he embraced me.

Indeed, this was one of the best dreams I had ever had.

"Sir," a male voice called out to him, and I saw Calisto raise his face with displeasure.

"What the hell do you want?" he grumbled.

"We heard something that might interest you, sir," the man said, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"I'm busy," he said, burying his face in my back. I could feel his breath on my bare skin, warming my face.

"Sir," the man insisted, and by now, I knew what would happen. I had read and reread that scene thousands of times, so I mentally repeated it as he spoke in perfect sync: "A girl has emerged in front of the cathedral of Samael."

Calisto growled, and I could feel his fangs against my skin, but he hadn't bitten me. He was displeased.

"Then kill her already," he snarled.

"We couldn't, sir," the man said, and I involuntarily smiled.

Whether it was a dream or not, he was being too faithful to the book I had read so many times. And if it was him or that scene, then I was.

My gaze wandered around the room in search of a mirror, and upon finding it, I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Hair as red as blood, eyes of pupil-less ruby, and skin as pale as a genuine corpse. There was no doubt I was Asra.

The king's concubine, the one who had plotted against the saint sent by God, was the one who would not only heal the king's son but also win his heart and make him good again, as well as the cause of his death.

Calisto seemed annoyed as his arms released me, and sat on the bed.

"They need your king to deal with something so idiotic? What the hell are the princes good for?" He was bothered, but my eyes were busy taking in his sculpted body, every feature of his face.

No matter how many fanatics I had seen or how many times I had imagined it, I would never come close to the true beauty of Calisto.

His long, black hair cascaded down his back in waves and tangles, thanks to what we had done earlier. But, to my utter bad luck, I wasn't even dreaming at this beautiful moment. His eyes were rose quartz.

Calisto was like a masterpiece, a great body that seemed delicately sculpted. Slender, slightly defined, with perfect proportions, covered in tattoos, and now with red marks.

I sighed, and Calisto looked at me, expecting the morning tantrum that Asra always threw when he had to leave her. I remembered this scene well, how I had understood it, and simultaneously, found it irritating.

But all of this was just a dream. Who cares about the original script?

I ran my fingers along his arm, up to his shoulder, and sat on the bed beside him. I couldn't deny what I saw in the mirror: Asra was just as beautiful as Calisto. Her body was perfectly sculpted and looked even sexier, with many bite marks and hickeys on her legs and back.

"Darling," I whispered close to his ear, "don't be so angry... Wouldn't it be better for them to inform you so you can resolve it? At least they've learned their limits."

The dark-haired man looked at me in surprise. Indeed, this was different from what he expected from me. Indeed, it wasn't what we had agreed upon, and I vividly remembered Asra's tears—which, in reality, were not mine.

Calisto had promised to spend three consecutive nights with her, and they would both go to heaven and the nine circles of hell together if she so desired. But then Elaine appeared. The blonde ascended and took from Asra everything she dreamed. Calisto's love, which he said he could never give her, and the throne that Asra always thought would one day be hers.

The heavens sent Elaine to destroy Calisto, but ultimately, she beat much more than just the king. Even in a dream, I wouldn't allow that to happen again.

"You should go," I said, knowing exactly how he would respond and enjoying the surprised expression on Azrael's face. The fallen one seemed unable to believe what he was hearing, and I couldn't blame him for that, and it wasn't something one could expect from Asra.

"But that's not what I promised you," Calisto replied precisely as I expected him to, and I smiled. It was the opening I needed.

It was what Asra should have done.

"Then take me with you," I whispered. "You don't have to hold back because you promised to stay with me. I can accompany you."

Azrael cleared his throat but didn't expect things to be so easy.

"I'm not sure if it's appropriate," he said, trying not to offend me, but what he meant was obvious. "You shouldn't parade around with your concubine."

"I can stay in the carriage," I said, not expecting Calisto to respond, and he looked at me as if trying to understand my change of attitude. Then I shrugged. "I wasn't lying or exaggerating when I said I missed you..." I slid my fingers between his and held his hand. "So... I can wait for you in the carriage while you handle everything. I know I haven't behaved as I should and have constantly acted like a spoiled child, but I want to prove that I can be useful."

Azrael opened his mouth to speak, and I gave him a brief look. I knew Asra's abilities, so I screamed in his mind, "Suggest that I'm only good for warming his bed, and I'll make sure you won't wake up for weeks, fallen one."

I didn't care about threatening Azrael; if it allowed me to change things, it allowed me to save Calisto. But it was apparent that the king had yet to decide. He looked at me as if questioning whether he should do it. Asra needed to have a better track record of appearing in public.

I smiled.

"Please..."

Calisto sighed.

"Alright, get dressed... I'll wait for you in the carriage."

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