Bounded To The Mad King.

Chapter 4: A Mistake

Kalista stirred beneath the silk sheets, her body humming with the memory of him. A slow ache throbbed through her thighs, across her ribs, along her neck—proof of the nights she had surrendered to him. The scent that lingered on her skin was unmistakable: spice, smoke and that was the scent that haunted her all those lonely nights.

A knock echoed through the grand bedchamber. She didn’t move at first, praying it was a dream—but the sound came again, firmer this time. Her lashes fluttered open, and her stomach twisted.

"Oh no." She said. Her heart began to beat, her eyes adjusted to the light in the room, and that's when she realized where she was. Black marble floors. Gold-framed mirrors. Velvet drapes swallowing the walls. Swords polished like jewels hung beside his throne chair, which loomed before a fire still smoldering with embers. Every detail screamed of him—his power, his control, his obsession.

Kalista's chest rose and fell faster than before as she sat up too fast. Her world spun. And then the memories struck like a wave.

The cave. The way he touched her as if she were sacred. The relentless, consuming nights that followed. The sound of her own cries still echoed in her ears. Her throat tightened. Her hand flew to her mouth.

What have I done?

"Oh no, no, no,no." She clenched harder on the sheets as she turned her head to the side, she felt the presence of someone behind the door. The door creaked open before she could recover.

“Kalista?”

That voice.

“Melio?” she breathed, clutching the ruined sheets around her bare skin. She pulled it up to her chest, wanting to hide her shame. He entered with careful steps, his gaze fixed on the marble beneath his boots. He stopped at the end of the bed, holding a sealed letter in one hand.

“A message, it's important.” he murmured.

She reached for it, her fingers trembling. The moment she saw the familiar looping script, her heart sank. It was her mother’s handwriting. A sob tore from her throat. She clutched the letter as if it might vanish. “Oh gods,” she choked, tears spilling freely.

Melio said nothing. He simply stood there, head bowed, silently witnessing her unravel.

“I—I need to leave,” she gasped. “Please, Melio. Help me. I can’t stay.” Her chocolate-brown eyes searched his, desperate for help.

He hesitated, torn between duty and loyalty, then nodded. “There’s a hay cart that departs for the countryside each morning,” he said softly. “It passes beneath the king’s balcony. You have five minutes. Varian will be here soon. Make haste.”

“Oh, Melio… please—take care of him.” Her voice broke.

“I am loyal to both the king and to you,” he said quietly. “But as your friend, I’ll help you.” Kalista nodded, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

When he left, she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. Her armor lay neatly across the table, as if he’d expected her to stay. The thought made her chest tighten painfully. She grabbed the nearest shirt of his—black, soft, still warm with his scent—and pulled it over her head before strapping on her gear. Her sword slid into place like it belonged there.

But she didn’t.

Not in his bed.

Not in his life.

She was a spy.

A protector.

Sent to observe a king—not fall to her knees before him. This was the biggest mistake she had ever made, and she had to leave, because if she didn't, things were going to be complicated. She grabbed her boots, struggling to pull it up she heard footsteps approaching.

Confident and familiar.

Panic flared through her. There was no time. She ran to the balcony. The ground below was far—too far—but there, rolling past the gates, was the cart. Her only chance, she ran back to the room, and listened for the car to get closer the rattle of the wheel grew closer and closer, Kalista held her breath and ran, jumped on to the rail and jumped. Wind roared in her ears. The world tilted—and then thud. The hay broke her fall.

Barely.

Everything was quiet, the world was silent, but the cart rolled on. Through the city. Past the walls. Into the countryside.

When she finally dared to breathe, his kingdom was long gone. By dusk, she climbed down, dusted herself off, and began to walk.

Every step away from Kudevell was a dagger to her heart. Who could blame her, she spent almost 4 years in that kingdom, with the man that belonged to her sister.

And she had ruined everything.

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The brothel stood just as she remembered it—lanterns casting warm light over red drapes, the perfume of roses and wine thick in the air. Barefoot, her armor half-hung on her hips, she approached the front desk. The lady there looked startled as Kalista softly asked to see Mistress Rosealy. Moments later, her old friend swept in like fire and silk. A red dress clung to her curves; her braid was messy, a pipe dangling between her fingers.

“What—” Rosealy froze. “Lis?”

Kalista didn’t speak. She just moved. They crashed into each other in a fierce, wordless embrace. Kalista melted into her friend’s arms, and when Rosealy pulled back to study her face, her smile faded.

“Oh, Lis…” she caressed her old friend's face and pushed her loose strands away from her face. Kalista looked around to see the girls still watching them. Rosealy noticed and snapped at the onlookers. “Back to work, all of you!” she barked before guiding Kalista to her private quarters.

The bath was already steaming when she led her in. The scent of roses and vanilla filled the air. Neither woman spoke.

Rosealy helped her undress in silence, gently washing away the bruises and bite marks that were not from battle. She saw everything—and said nothing.

Once dried and wrapped in a soft yellow robe, Kalista sat quietly on the bed. Rosealy returned moments later with warm bread and tea, setting them before her. Kalista stared at the food but couldn’t eat.

Then she broke.

A cry tore from her chest, raw and heart-deep. She doubled over, trembling hands covering her face. “I ruined everything,” she whispered. “Rose… I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Rosealy knelt in front of her, just like they had as girls hiding from the world’s cruelty.

“Lis,” she said softly, resting her hands on Kalista’s knees. “Talk to me.”

Kalista’s voice quivered. “I… I don’t know what happened. This whole thing was a mess. I should never have taken that mission.”

Her throat tightened around the words. “I was supposed to watch him. To protect Lani. I was sent there as a knight—not…” She swallowed.

“Not to fall for him.”

Rosealy’s brow furrowed. “Fall for whom? I don’t understand.” Kalista took a deep breath “My parents received a proposal four years back. It was from Varian himself—he wanted to unite the kingdoms through marriage. They wanted to investigate him first. To see if he was worthy.”

Rosealy froze.

“Varian?” she repeated, her voice rising. “King Varian of Kudevell?” Kalista nodded once.

“Are they insane?” Rosealy threw her hands up, pacing the room in disbelief. “That man—” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look on Kalista’s face: hollow, aching, lost.

“I gave him everything, Rose. My body. My loyalty. My heart. And now… I can’t go back. I can’t face my mother or Lani. Not after that.” She cupped her mouth as she tried to hold her tears in, but they betrayed her "Oh saints! I feel utterly useless.....and weak." she rubbed her eyes furiously.

Rosealy was silent for a long time. Then she crossed to the cabinet, pulled out a slender vial hidden behind stacks of books, and poured two glasses of sharp green liquor. “You didn’t fall in love with a man,” she said finally, voice soft but firm. “You fell in love with a tyrant. A man that will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And that’s always dangerous.”

Kalista sipped, coughing at the burn. She set the glass down, eyes fixed on the fire. “He’ll come for me,” she murmured.

Rosealy gave a small, knowing smile. “Let him come. He’ll find nothing here but shadows.” Kalista looked up, eyes red and swollen.

“They’ll never forgive me,” She looked down at the vial in her hands. Rosealy knelt beside her again, gentler this time. “Maybe not. But you are Kalista of the Isles—the founder of the most powerful intelligence network outside any crown. You trained half the women here yourself. You survived wars, betrayals, poisonings. Do you really think this is the worst thing you’ve done?”

Kalista laughed through her tears. A small, broken sound—but it was a start.

“Tell me what happened,” Rosealy said, settling beside her. “From the moment you met.”

She refilled Kalista’s cup, her own hands trembling slightly.

And then Kalista spoke.

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