Chapter 525: The End of Her World, Pride and Dreams
The woman sat alone in the dark cell, her surroundings shrouded in shadows and silence. The place where she was held was a bleak labyrinth, so oppressive that it could crush even the bravest warrior.
There was nothing here.
No luxury. No beauty. No adoration.
Her life had never fallen so low. Once, she lived with everything at her fingertips—admired for her radiance, intelligence, and sharp wit.
She had walked among jewellery and perfumes, commanding glances wherever she went. But all of that was gone, lost to a miscalculated obsession.
She believed she could have it all—Kyren’s heart and the power to surpass all other nobles. She thought her charm and cleverness would be enough to manipulate fate. How terribly mistaken she had been.
Even her beauty, which she once wore like a crown with pride, had faded. Her face was swollen, her lips cracked, and her nose was broken and crooked from Anna’s blow. The dungeon’s filth clung to her skin, mocking the vanity she once fiercely protected.
Her heart burned with venom. Humiliation twisted inside her, replaying the moment Anna struck her before the royal court, the roar of silence as everyone watched.
Rage simmered beneath the wreckage, a bitter voice whispering that everything should have been hers. But now, there was only darkness, and the choking truth she could not accept; she had been utterly subdued.
The constant water drip echoed endlessly within the dungeon, each drop hammering at her sanity.
She bowed her head between her knees. Both of her slender hands were shackled by unforgiving iron that had rubbed her wrists raw as she sat silently on the cold, hardened stone floor.
To be left like this—perhaps death would be kinder. Amid that thought, footsteps echoed faintly from afar, drawing closer, sharper with each step.
It might be the guards, coming to distribute rations as usual. They still kept her fed, though no treatment was given for her injuries. Perhaps they wanted her to linger in pain. How ironic, for she had once been the one who relished inflicting it on others.
The creaking of hinges followed the harsh scrape of locks being undone.
Sarah did not move. Her head remained bowed, and her eyes fixed on the floor. Hunger gnawed at her since the food here was coarse, the opposite of what she was usually served.
She was unaccustomed to such deprivation, but her arrogance prevented her from begging the guards for better treatment or more relief.
Why should she? Hadn’t she once been a noble lady, standing above them, cloaked in power and full of dignity?
"Leave us," a woman’s voice came to her ears.
Sarah froze.
This was unusual—the guards were all men, and no woman was ever permitted in the dungeon. Not unless she were a prisoner herself.
Slowly, Sarah raised her head. Through the dimness and the flickering torchlight, a familiar face emerged.
Her body jolted as if struck, and she instinctively recoiled, the chain rattling at the movement’s impact. Fear seized her, for this woman was not a face she wished to see here.
Already broken and battered, Sarah knew that another blow might finish her. And given the woman’s reputation, she had no doubt the strike would be fatal.
She had thought of death before, but now, faced with it directly, she found herself trembling—too afraid to embrace it.
"Relax. I’m not here to finish you," Callis said, as though she had plucked the thought straight from Sarah’s mind.
The former chief lady-in-waiting parted her lips to speak, but the motion cracked the dried blood across them. The fissures tore open along old wounds, and a painful sting flared from her broken mouth.
It hurt.
Callis moved closer, dropping to one knee and gently resting her arm across the other as she tilted Sarah’s chin. Her ruby-red eyes examined the battered face with a detached, methodical gaze.
The Mederian Princess clicked her tongue softly, again and again.
"Thckk.... Thckk... thck... She has left you wearing shame better than any silk, hasn’t she?"
Sarah swallowed hard, fully aware of whom Callis was referring to. The ache of bitterness in her chest was sharper than the pain in her lips or swollen face.
She averted her gaze and tried to turn away, but the Mederian Princess’s hold was unyielding, making escape impossible. Now, all she could do was prepare herself for the barrage of insults she anticipated.
But they didn’t come.
Instead, warmth spread from Callis’s hand—subtle at first, then growing, sinking deep into her skin.
The agony dulled, the throb of her broken nose faded, and the rawness of her lips smoothed. Colour returned to her hollowed cheeks; her torn beauty knit itself whole again.
Sarah’s face glowed with renewed life. Even the gnawing emptiness of hunger eased, replaced by a startling vigour.
When the Mederian Princess finally released her chin and stood up, Sarah was left stunned, fumbling at her own healed skin.
"That should do. The so admired ’jewel’ is back," Callis said dryly.
The noble lady’s trembling hands explored the smoothness where scabs had been, feeling the straightness of her nose and the suppleness of her lips. Even without a mirror, she knew she was healed, and the realisation unsettled her.
"What did you... What did you do to me? Did you just heal me?"
"Couldn’t you tell already?" Callis’s reply carried a faint, mocking curl.
Sarah staggered to her feet, causing the chains to rattle with the movement. Her eyes were wide with confusion. This woman hated her and had crossed words with her in bitter disputes. Why, then, had she spared her, much less healed her?
The clinking shackles drew Callis’s attention. With a sigh, she withdrew a key from her inner pocket. Seizing Sarah’s hand, she slipped it into the lock. A moment later, the cuffs hit the stone floor with a sharp clang.
"I spent enough mana healing you," the Mederian Princess remarked. "It would be wasteful to let mere shackles mar your precious, milky skin."
"Why?" Sarah’s voice cracked as the question finally escaped. "Why would you do this for me?"
Callis’s gaze fixed on her—sharp and unwavering, but absent of anger.
"She asked me to."
"She..." Sarah faltered, the name catching in her throat.
"Lady Raychard has pardoned your family. All of them are now released," said the Mederian Princess.
"My-my family was arrested?" the previous chief lady-in-waiting exclaimed in surprise. Nobody had informed her so.
"Yes. In a separate prison, not as shabby as this, of course. They nearly lost their heads because of what you did," said Callis.
Sarah was shaken.
"That can’t be!"
"Oh, yes, dear. Your offence is too grave," the Mederian Princess countered. "You slandered the Great Khasif numerous times, disrespected her, and humiliated her before everyone else. Also, we already found out about the poison that you ordered Lady Bridgette Lynn to give to Lady Raychard. You have attempted murder, Sarah."
"No! That’s not true! That potion is not a poison!" Sarah fought back.
"It might not be poisonous for normal people... but its effect could kill a pregnant woman, and as we know it, Lady Raychard is with a child," the Mederian Princess continued.
Sarah trembled, her breath uneven.
"Are you... going to kill me?" She forced the question past her lips, fighting against the fear constricting her throat.
"Then what would be the point of healing you?" Callis taunted, a cruel lilt in her voice. "I thought you were smarter than this."
With a frustrated huff, she crossed her arms, shaking her head at Sarah’s confusion. Finally, she leaned forward and revealed.
"By the weight of your crimes, you should already be dead. Not just you, but your entire family should have perished alongside you. The only reason you yet draw breath is because of your brother, Admiral Adam James. His loyalty and honour earned Lady Raychard’s favour. Because of him, she chose to compromise."
Sarah’s heart lurched.
"What compromise?" she asked, though dread clawed at her chest, warning her the answer would be no mercy.
"You will be sent as a diplomatic gift to the envoys of Cilleon, or rather, a tribute," Callis said coldly.
"What?" Sarah’s eyes went wide, her jaw falling slack.
Yes. To solidify the political alliance between Cassian and their kingdom. Their lead envoy, known for his admiration of beauty, reacted favourably when he learned you would be presented to him. Eventually, you will become his concubine."
The words struck Sarah like thunder. Her body shook, and a wave of horror and disbelief crashed over her.
Just the word—concubine—alone was unbearable... And to imagine herself bound to that fate? It had never occurred to her sane mind.
Among Cassian’s nobility, concubines were the position held only by slaves and prisoners of war. It was the vilest degradation for her, who had once stood in luxury and pride.
"You can’t! You can’t do this to me! I would rather die! I would rather kill myself!" she cried, her voice breaking.
"Then go ahead," Callis replied nonchalantly. "No one will stop you. But mark my words... You won’t like the consequences."
Sarah froze, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Refusing this path, whether through suicide, escape, or rebellion, will label you a traitor. You’ll be hunted down if you are still alive and executed in the most excruciating way imaginable. Your name will be removed from the James family registry and erased from their lineage. Cassian’s records will forever mark you as ’Sarah the Traitor’. Even in death, that shame will follow you."
The noble lady felt trapped, bound tighter than any shackle could hold. The suffocation was unbearable; her eyes widened in horror, yet she could not move.
"Lady Raychard no longer wishes to have any dealings with you. She doesn’t want you to appear before her ever again," Callis said. "Your family already hangs by a thread, spared from execution only by her pardon. One wrong word, and that mercy could vanish in an instant. So I suggest you think very carefully before throwing a tantrum."
Sarah’s tears fell freely. Her nails dug deep into her palms, and her fists clenched in helpless fury. She wanted to scream, deny it, and fight back, but what use was it?
She was no longer in control. And now there was no path left for her—only the bitter end of what had once been her ego.
Even the thought of escape seemed impossible.
Everyone had already bent knee to the Great Khasif, the new Empress of the Ro’an Empire. They had all seen Anna’s power, and none... none would dare oppose her.
And if Sarah somehow managed to flee, where could she go? With nothing to her name, she would live as a pauper on the run, constantly hunted, constantly afraid—a life she had never known and could never endure.
Galicia and Ardel had already allied with Cassian. If she fled there, she would only be dragged back, and the punishment would be far worse.
Barges were out of the question as the kingdom was an enemy.
And Dracor? Crossing the border meant one thing: capture. She could already see it; her body sold at auction in Tarnova, reduced to a nameless slave—a miserable end.
There was nowhere. Nothing.
Callis read the despair in Sarah’s eyes as the once-proud lady slumped onto the filthy dungeon floor. The light had gone out of her gaze, leaving only hollow resignation. But no empathy stirred in the Mederian Princess’s heart.
Sarah had caused enough harm; she had hurt Anna, dismissed Kyren’s warnings, and mocked her brother and husband. For Callis, forgiveness was not an option; her heart only desired the relief of seeing the noble lady’s despicable attitude stripped away.
"If you truly believe death is better than what has been decreed for you," Callis said, unyielding, "then I will not stop you. Do it yourself or, if you lack the courage, tell me. There will be executions tomorrow morning. I can arrange for you to join the condemned. Quick and painless, if that’s what you wish."
Sarah’s heart sank—not at the thought of death itself, but at the truth that came with it.
In dying that way, her name would be torn from her, erased from the noble registry, and her lineage dissolved forever. She would be remembered not as a James but as a traitor—forever damned in Cassian’s history.
Her mind reeled with the thought of those four treacherous lords from the Great War, fifty years ago. Even now, their names were spoken with venom, their betrayal remembered. Soon, she would be added to that list and branded as Cassian’s first female traitor.
The tears came in unstoppable torrents, breaking through like a shattered dam. Her head bowed, her body shuddering. There was nothing left. No more cards to play, no more pride to wield.
Perhaps... perhaps exile to Cilleon was better. At least there, she would not hear the whispers of her fall: ’The woman who desired to be queen, but was reduced to a traitor.’
"How do you want it to be?" Callis asked, breaking the silence. "I don’t have all day, Sarah."
It took a moment before the noble lady lifted her face, her voice broken.
"I’ll go... to Cilleon."
The Mederian Princess’s lips curled faintly. She had doubted that Sarah would ever accept being sent off as tribute, much less as a concubine, but Kyren had already foreseen the noble lady’s nature.
After all, this was his idea, not his wife’s. Anna only wished for Sarah to be out of sight, and the grand duke, tolerant enough for Adam’s sake, had chosen this bargain over execution—a fair trade, in his eyes.
"Good," Callis said. "You’ll be moved to a guest chamber in the palace, given proper treatment, and your family will be allowed to meet you. Three days... you’ll have that much to bid them farewell. After that, you’ll depart with the envoys to their kingdom. You will not be permitted to set foot in Cassian again, but you may write to your family, and if they wish, they can visit you in Cilleon."
Sarah lifted her head in shock, her eyes rimmed red with tears.
"Three days? Only three days?" she exclaimed in desperation.
"What did you expect?" Callis replied. "You’re in no position to ask for more."
The noble lady bit her trembling lip. Arguing was pointless as she already knew the outcome. Her gaze sank back to the floor, her tears spilling silently.
"I’ll fetch the guards to take you out," Callis said, turning toward the door. She stopped at the threshold and glanced back, her voice rent the air like ice.
"By the way... I forgot to mention."
Sarah’s head snapped up.
"The Cilleons are known to be patriarchal and strict in discipline. The lead envoy, your future partner in particular, is in a polygamous household. You’ll be his fourth concubine. I hope you will find some lessons for your repentance there."
Sarah’s throat clenched. Fourth? The word itself scraped her heart raw.
Callis’s smile widened ever so slightly.
"The good news is, you won’t be alone. Your precious companions, the previous ladies-in-waiting who followed you so loyally, will accompany you. The Cilleon lead envoy was generous enough to distribute them among his men. Each of you will serve as a concubine. Together, you can reminisce about your glorious past."
The noble lady’s breath hitched. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Only silence, broken by the creak of the iron door as it groaned open, and the fading echo of Callis’s heels against the stone floor.
The sound swallowed Sarah whole. Alone again, she sat frozen, her chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. No scream, curse, or denial left her lips—only the hollow weight of inevitability pressed down, suffocating her.
For the first time, she truly felt it.
Her world, her pride, her dreams—everything had ended.