~Roxanne's POV~
The torchlight flickered across the stone walls of the palace, casting long shadows that danced like restless spirits in the humid air. This wasn't some dusty relic of a forgotten age; no, the city sprawled outside these walls was alive with the clamor of merchants hawking their wares, the distant clang of blacksmith hammers, and the low hum of intrigue that never slept.
It felt modern in its chaos, urban in its pulse, even if the architecture harked back to kings and knights, to thrones carved from ancient bone and iron. But inside, in the heart of it all, I was just a debt slave, a maid named Roxanne, scrubbing floors and serving wine to pay off my father's foolish loans to the crown. That was the official story.
The real one?
I was King Xander's personal fucktoy,
