In the distant dominion to which he had been spirited away, the youth was regarded as a treasured gem, exalted and displayed before the masses as an emblem of their freshly gained divine approbation. Alas, solace eluded the young man within the confines of his elevated standing, as his soul pined for the unpretentious existence he had relinquished and the tender enfolding of his kin's embrace.

Upon the whispered words of the male endowed with Aphrodite's inscription reaching the listening ears of his true sovereign realm, a profound sentiment of treachery and injustice swelled within their hearts. Consumed by fury at the purloining of their celestial prize, they proclaimed vehement war upon the usurping kingdom, resolute in their quest to retrieve that which was veritably their own.

~From The Divine Pawn: A Tale of Divinity and Desolation

Palace murmurs, like an omnipresent river, flowed through the grand halls and opulent chambers. Yet, it was a conversation, a random pebble disrupting the river's course, which hooked Adonis' attention.

"Did you hear about the Come Right Inn?" A soldier's grumble echoed around the dimly lit tavern. "Burned down to the ground, they say. Not a soul left alive."

The words, sharp as a winter wind, cut through Adonis. The Come Right Inn, his home before Princess Moira's intervention, was reduced to ash. His family in all but blood, extinguished. He clutched the edge of a table, a silent scream trapped within him.

"Bad omen, I'd say," another voice cut through his shock. "The pretty lad who came from there, the slave... Adonis? Since he arrived, things have been off."

A bad omen? Adonis' grip tightened on the table, knuckles whitening. He was trying to find his footing in this new world, not a harbinger of doom. Yet, the soldiers' words wound around his thoughts and planted a seed of doubt within him. Was he a bad omen for the kingdom?

As night cloaked the palace, a restless Adonis found himself outside the adjoining chamber—Queen Themis' private study. The proximity of his room to the Queen's was a mixed blessing, comforting in its promise of safety yet a constant reminder of his gilded cage.

Drawn by a thirst for answers, he snuck inside, his gaze landing on a parchment. The inked words were a stark, unflinching tale of horror: the destruction of Come Right Inn. The meticulous detailing of the massacre pointed to a single, highly skilled perpetrator.

Each word sent a piercing jolt through Adonis, causing his breath to hitch and his hands to tremble. Each sentence was a ghostly echo of the friends he'd lost, a chilling reminder that gnawed at his gut. His previous home, was now an empty void, its memory reduced to ashes that seemed to smother him, constricting his throat and blurring his vision.

The name of Lady Apate of the West, inscribed by Queen Themis's hand, drew his attention. The Queen's suspicion, evident in her words, butted against her inability to act without evidence, a silent testament to the precarious balance of power.

Absorbed in the document, he barely noticed the discomfort spreading from his chest. It wasn't until the sting of pain forced a gasp out of him that he realized his transgression. The ring. The commandment echoed in his mind: "Always carry yourself with dignity and honour."

The parchment slipped from his grasp, fluttering down onto the desk. He had violated Themis's trust and had dishonoured himself. He staggered back, clutching his chest, the pain a physical manifestation of his guilt.

Retreating to his room, he was besieged by memories. His room, once a refuge, now felt like a prison, a reminder of his previous home.

In the next room, Queen Themis sat silently, her gaze fixed on the closed door that separated her from Adonis. She was aware of his transgression and felt the ripple in the ring's power. Yet, she remained silent, letting him grapple with his actions and their consequences. 

Rules and consequences were the backbones of this world, and Adonis had to learn them, however bitter the lesson.

His room was drenched in a sombre moonlight, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with his despair. The laughter of his friends echoed in his mind, forever gone to a single, horrific act. And he was powerless to even investigate it, bound by the constraints of honour and duty.

Themis sat alone, the rustle of the documents on her desk and the faint, muffled sobs from the next room the only companions to her thoughts. This silence was a hard teacher, but necessary. Adonis had to understand the weight of his position, and the responsibilities that came with it.

As the night faded into dawn, Adonis lay on his bed, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the ceiling. The soldier's words, 'bad omen', were a ghostly refrain in his mind. Was this his payment for his freedom?

The ring's reminder of his transgression had dulled down to an ache, a constant echo of his actions. His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, the enormity of his situation sinking in. He was free, yet the true freedom he yearned for was an elusive dream.

The first rays of dawn found Adonis finally surrendering to sleep, his dreams haunted by the memories of Come Right Inn. When he awoke, his resolve was forged anew. He would find the perpetrator behind the massacre. He would seek justice, not just for those he lost, but for himself.

For he was not a bad omen. He was Adonis, who now served a queen. And he would carry himself with dignity and honour, no matter the cost.