Date: The Night of the 2nd Day of the Month of Blossoms, Year 1107 of the Imperial Calendar.
Location: The Private Chambers of the Emperor (The Judgment Room).
The wine on the floor looked like blood. It spread across the white marble of the bathhouse, staining the grout, creeping toward Aanya's wet, trembling feet.
King Darius stood over the puddle. He was a statue of fury carved from ice.
He didn't scream. Screaming was for commoners who lost a coin purse. Darius was an Emperor who had lost his dignity. He felt dirty. He felt a crawling sensation on his thumb—the thumb that had stroked her cheek earlier that day. He had touched the lie. He had praised the deception.
He had called a monster "Flawless."
"Get her out," Darius said. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried more weight than a thunderclap.
Two guards in silver armor stepped forward. They didn't offer Aanya a hand. They grabbed her by her wet arms and hauled her out of the pool. She was wearing nothing but a thin bathing shift that clung to her skin, dripping water and the beige sludge of the melted mask.
She tried to cover her face with her hands, but a guard slapped them away.
"Let me see it," Darius commanded.
He grabbed her chin—roughly this time, his fingers digging into her jawbone. He forced her head up.
The lantern light was merciless. The right side of her face was a mess of oil, dissolved resin, and red, shiny scar tissue. The illusion was gone. The "White Jade" was just a piece of broken pottery.
Darius looked into her eyes. The violet eyes were swimming with tears.
"You thought you could trick me?" Darius hissed, his face inches from hers. "You thought you could walk into my bed with a painted face and I wouldn't notice? Did you take me for a fool, girl?"
"No..." Aanya choked out, shivering violently. "Please... my parents... they said..."
"Your parents," Darius straightened up, wiping his hand on his silk robe as if he had touched a leper. "Yes. Bring them to me."
He turned to the Head Eunuch, who was cowering by the door.
"Drag the Merchant Kael and his wife here. Now. If they are sleeping, wake them. If they are drunk, carry them. And bring the sword."
Ten Minutes Later
Aanya was thrown onto the thick Persian rug in the center of the Emperor's private study. She was shivering, cold, and humiliated beyond words. The makeup was still smeared on her neck, a badge of her failure.
The heavy oak doors burst open.
Kael and Elara stumbled in. They were still wearing their festival clothes—Kael in his expensive new robe, Elara in her jewels. They looked flushed, happy, and slightly intoxicated from the victory wine they had been drinking in the guest quarters.
"Your Majesty?" Kael blinked, trying to focus. "We were toasting to the—"
He stopped.
He saw the Emperor sitting in a high-backed chair, holding a naked broadsword across his lap.
He saw Aanya huddled on the floor, wet and weeping.
And he saw her face.
The color drained from Kael's face so fast he looked like a corpse. Elara let out a strangled gasp, her hands flying to her mouth.
The mask was gone. The investment had liquidated.
"My... My Lord..." Kael stammered, falling to his knees instinctively. "There... there must be a mistake."
"The mistake," Darius said, running his thumb along the sharp edge of the blade, "was mine. I assumed that a noble family would offer me a flower. Instead, you sold me a rotten fruit wrapped in silk."
He stood up and pointed the sword at Kael's throat.
"This is treason, Merchant. It is fraud against the Crown. The punishment is death for the entire lineage."
"Mercy!" Elara shrieked, dropping to the floor beside her husband. She didn't look at Aanya. She didn't crawl to comfort her daughter. She crawled toward the King's boots. "We didn't know! It was the Alchemist! He promised it would hold! He said it was permanent!"
"You knew she was scarred," Darius roared, his composure cracking. "You presented a cripple as a Queen! You made a mockery of my Selection!"
"She hid it!" Kael suddenly shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Aanya.
Aanya looked up. Her eyes went wide.
"Father?" she whispered.
"She hid it!" Kael lied, his voice rising in desperate panic. "We told her not to! We told her to be honest! But she insisted! She wanted the crown! She hired the Alchemist herself! We are innocent, Majesty! We are just simple parents deceived by a wicked child!"
Aanya felt something break inside her chest. It hurt more than the boiling water. It hurt more than the chemical burn.
They were selling her. Again.
First, they sold her beauty. Now, they were selling her life to save their own.
"Lies," Darius said coldly. "She is sixteen. She has no gold. You paid for the Alchemist."
He raised the sword. "I will take your heads now. And I will burn your house."
"Wait!" Kael scrambled backward on his knees, his forehead scraping the floor. "Wait, Great Dragon! Please! We can make it right! We have... we have another!"
Darius paused. The sword hovered in the air. "Another?"
"A daughter!" Elara cried out, grabbing the King's hem. "Riya! Our younger daughter! You saw her! She was in the line! She is pure! She has no scars! She is beautiful, healthy, and untouched!"
"She is a virgin," Kael added breathlessly. "She is young. She can bear you sons. Take her! Take Riya! She will not deceive you. She is real flesh!"
Aanya stared at her parents. They looked like rats cornered in a sewer, offering up their own young to the predator.
Darius looked at the groveling couple. He looked at the wet, broken girl on the rug. Then he thought of the younger sister—the one in the blue dress he had ignored.
She was pretty. Not like the porcelain doll, but she was whole. And more importantly, taking her would be the ultimate punishment for this family. He would own them. They would live in fear of him forever.
Slowly, Darius lowered the sword.
"The spare heir," Darius mused. A cruel smile touched his lips. "Very well. I will take the younger one. Bring her to the palace tomorrow."
Kael slumped forward, sobbing with relief. "Thank you, Majesty! Thank you! You are merciful!"
"But," Darius said, his eyes snapping back to Aanya. "I still have this... refuse... in my chambers."
He looked at Aanya with unmasked disgust. The fascination he had felt for her "Ice Queen" persona was gone. Now, he just saw a defective product.
"I do not want her blood on my rugs," Darius said. "And she is not worth the effort of a public execution. It would only admit that I was tricked."
He turned to the guards.
"Throw her out."
"Out, sire?" the guard asked.
"Out of the palace. Out of the city," Darius commanded. "Strip her of the silk. Give her rags. And toss her from the the Southern Gate."
He looked at Aanya one last time.
"If she ever returns to the capital... if I ever see that hideous face again... kill her on sight."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The guards grabbed Aanya by the arms. They hauled her up. She didn't fight. She was limp. Her legs wouldn't work.
She looked at her parents.
Kael was wiping sweat from his brow, already planning how to dress Riya. Elara was fixing her jewelry.
Neither of them looked at her.
"Mother?" Aanya whispered.
Elara turned her back.
"Take her away," Kael muttered to the guards, his voice trembling but cold. "She is no daughter of ours."
The guards dragged Aanya toward the door. As she crossed the threshold, leaving the warmth of the palace for the cold night, she realized the truth.
The scar hadn't destroyed her life. Her family had.
The heavy doors slammed shut.
Inside, the Emperor poured himself another glass of wine.
Outside, Aanya was dragged into the darkness, a fallen angel with a melted face, cast down from heaven into the hell of the streets.