Marry, Breed, Obey—Or Else...

A Twist of Fate

Jo barely had time to brace herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, her muscles tensing in anticipation of the whip's brutal sting. She knew how it would feel—the sharp crack against her skin, the searing pain that followed. It wouldn't be the first time.

The air felt too thick, every second stretching unbearably.

Then—

"Stop!"

The voice sliced through the chaos, high and commanding, impossible to ignore.

The world froze.

Jo's eyes snapped open. The man who had been ready to strike her hesitated, his arm still raised but unmoving. Around them, the gathered crowd held its breath. Even the gold cloaks, who had moments ago been so eager to seize her, now stood stiffly in place.

Jo turned her head toward the golden litter, where the voice had come from. The heavy curtains shifted, and a figure stepped out, swallowed in cascading veils of yellow, orange, and red. The colors burned like the sun itself, turning her into something more than human.

The Mother.

The woman who had birthed the Emperor, the woman they called the Mother of His People.

She walked toward them with deliberate steps, her presence swallowing all else. Jewels were sewn into the very fabric of her sleeves, glittering like captured stars. The veil covering her face shimmered with embedded gemstones, making it impossible to see anything but her eyes—deep and intelligent, the sharp grey of storm clouds before a downpour.

The people reacted instantly, lowering their heads in bows and curtsies. Even the gold cloaks dipped their chins. But Jo—Jo remained where she was, frozen, kneeling on the rough stone, blood slipping down her cheek in thin rivulets. She had never been this close to the Mother before.

And now, the woman was looking directly at her.

One of the gold cloaks cleared his throat, stepping forward. "My lady," he said, keeping his head bowed. "This boy has stolen a coin purse. We will remove him from your path at once."

A long silence followed.

Then, softly but firmly, the Mother spoke. "This one is not a boy."

Jo felt a jolt run through her.

The gold cloak hesitated. "Your Gracious Highness?"

The Mother's gaze swept over Jo with cold precision. "It's a girl." Her words held no question, only certainty. "Is my son's City Watch so incompetent that they cannot tell the difference?"

The shame on the guards' faces was immediate. They dropped their eyes, shoulders stiff with humiliation, but the Mother had already dismissed them from her thoughts. Her gaze returned to Jo, unreadable, searching.

"You will take her to the Red Keep," she commanded. "I will decide what to do with her."

Jo's stomach clenched.

The Red Keep.

Her fate was no longer in the hands of common guards or merchants—no longer something she could simply outrun. The most powerful woman in the Empire had just claimed ownership of her punishment.

The lead gold cloak hesitated. "But, Your Gracious Highness, what of the money?"

Jo turned her head slightly, catching sight of the merchant pushing through the crowd. His face was red with exertion, his breath coming in short bursts. Clearly, he had fought through the bodies to reach them, determined not to let her theft go unpunished.

And yet, the Mother did not look at him with irritation.

Instead, she moved with eerie grace.

One hand rose to her chest, grasping the ornate brooch pinned to the front of her gown. The diamonds embedded in it caught the sunlight, dazzling and pure. Without hesitation, she ripped it free, tearing the delicate fabric of her clothing in the process.

A murmur rippled through the onlookers.

The Mother extended the brooch, placing it in the hands of one of the guards. Her movements were slow, deliberate. The message was clear: this trinket meant nothing to her.

"Here," she said. "This should be enough compensation for the crime. Don't you agree?"

The merchant gawked at the brooch, eyes wide as he weighed its worth. A single diamond on it was likely worth more than all the coins in his purse combined. His mouth opened and closed, struggling for words, but he finally gave a stiff nod, his greed winning over any sense of protest.

"Yes, Your Grace," he stammered. "More than enough."

Satisfied, the Mother turned to the servant standing by her litter. No words passed between them—only a glance. But whatever command had been given, the servant immediately bowed and moved to prepare their departure.

Jo sat still, dazed, as the reality of what had just happened sank in.

She had gone from a street rat running for her life to a criminal in the custody of the Mother herself.

This wasn't just punishment.

It was something else. Something far worse.

And Jo had no idea what was waiting for her beyond the Red Keep's towering walls.