Chapter One
T here are layers to winning, just as there are layers to losing, but one thing is always true—
Losing sucks.
Tonight, Eri observes me like a man who believes he’s won. It’s evident in the way he drags his eyes over my skin as I glide from table to table, pouring Rivara Kingdom’s famed Sparkling Ecstasy into goblets.
My sheer golden pants sway with every step, and the braided metallic gold top hugging my chest leaves little to the imagination.
Lilac hair cascades down my exposed back like a frosted river, thick braids woven between the strands.
And of course, tonight’s uniform would not be complete without the golden diadem adorned with a single, gleaming amethyst resting atop my head, catching the light as I work.
The King of Rivara says it pleases him to see the jewel that so closely resembles my eyes hovering just above my brow.
I fill the final goblet at my current table and work my way to the next. Eri tracks my movements, a smug expression glinting in his gaze.
Oh, he definitely thinks he’s won.
He’s certain when he approaches the king tonight, his request will be granted, and he’ll be given exactly what he desires—a night with me, King Alastair’s prized night attendant, adored by nobles and emissaries alike.
But what Eri doesn’t know is I am the daughter of a Gardner, raised to understand the intricacies and power of every herb and plant known across the Three Kingdoms of Solaya—knowledge I have become quite adept at using to my advantage.
For within these kingdoms, magic determines your value while blood determines your worth, and I have neither magic nor a reputable bloodline, so I must use every means at my disposal.
Because even though there are nights I don’t mind my role—like when I stumble upon a partner who takes pleasure in giving, making the assignment almost enjoyable—there are other types.
Those whose hunger burns differently. Who takes and devours without asking, claiming what they wish without a care in the world.
It is for those nights, and those partners, I have crafted a plan. One that relies on the herbs they so carelessly overlook. And if I am expected to entertain Eri tonight, it is a plan that will not only be useful but necessary.
Later, beneath a midnight sky shimmering with stars on the cusp of dawn, when Eri and I are locked inside the entertaining chamber the king relished in creating, I will propose a toast. And as Eri sips from his goblet, eager to slip into bed, he will also be ingesting the sleeping tonic I forged from the white soporis plant.
Then, within a matter of minutes, Eri will be pleasantly unconscious, and all I’ll have to do is wait a respectable amount of time before departing.
It is a plan that is as simple as it is effective, working not only for me, but for the other night attendants who, two years ago after I experienced a particularly dark night, received their own vials—each paired with a detailed anonymous note of instruction I spent hours poring over.
I finish my next table and glimpse Eri still leaning against a marble pillar, arms crossed over his chest, eyes still pinned on me. Though I know I shouldn’t, I shoot him an ambiguous look. One that could be interpreted as either a look of desire or a look that politely screams fuck off .
Naturally, I mean the latter, but it appears Eri interpreted it as the former.
He pushes off the pillar and saunters toward me, hooking his arm around my waist and pulling me close. The smell of alcohol sits heavy on his breath.
I fight the urge to gag.
“I’ve been watching you all night,” he purrs. “I can see why you are King Alastair’s favorite toy.”
Gods , I wish I didn’t have to keep my tongue on such a tight leash. I’ve got an arsenal full of words I’d love to let roll from my tongue.
But I can’t.
Eri is the right-hand general to the Supreme Commander over Erandor Kingdom’s formidable forces. Which makes him someone I’d prefer not to trifle with. Especially not tonight.
For tonight, the Rivara Kingdom hosts the other two kingdoms within our realm, Erandor and Anatolé, as we celebrate The Founding: the day on which the Three Kingdoms were forged, carving new borders across Solaya, turning it from a unitary land ruled under one king into a harmonious Three King System, igniting the Era of Peace.
Hosted by a different kingdom each year to further broker political synergy, the King of Rivara has gone to great lengths to ensure everything is perfect for tonight’s celebration.
And unfortunately, I’d imagine gagging in Eri’s face and turning him away in front of the other kings, their emissaries, generals, advisors, other courtiers, and all high-ranking nobles would not fall on the list of what he deems as acceptable behavior during such a prestigious event.
So, sometimes defiance lives in the subtleties.
“And we toys live to serve our masters,” I croon, leaning away from him.
Okay, maybe my voice hadn’t been as sickeningly sweet as I meant, sounding more like I swallowed bitter fruit than sweet nectar, but I doubt Eri will notice.
Eri’s grip on me tightens. “Such sarcasm coming from such a pretty face is unbecoming of a servant.”
Shit.
He noticed.
I guess I should have expected that. A person doesn’t become the right-hand to the greatest strategist seen in centuries if they’re a complete and total dimwit.
I wiggle free of his hold and dip my chin. “Apologies, my Lord.”
He musses a hand through his neatly slicked-back hair, and a low hum rattles in his throat. Eri inclines his head at me, a serpent’s smile curling on his lips. “You can make it up to me. I think providing me with a show should do.”
A… what?
Feigning ignorance, I lower my eyes. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but I don’t follow.”
He frowns, studying me. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to, seeing as you’re just a whore and all.” He curls two fingers into my thin top and tugs. “Entertain me. Entertain us . It is a very special celebration, after all. One worthy of your…services.”
“Later,” I begin. “When all hav—”
“— Now ,” he interrupts.
My heart picks up in my chest as anger floods my system. The truth of it is, the king already planned my role in the entertainment for tonight, but this vile, repulsive, mouth-breathing —
I clamp down on my thoughts, not allowing myself to walk down the shadowy road paved in anger and frustration.
I continue playing the role of ignorant servant instead. “Sorry?”
Eri pinches the bridge of his nose. “Really, we should cleanse the realm of such incompetence.” He sighs, twirling an impatient hand. “Dance. Strip. Give us something worth watching.”
I know I shouldn’t deny his request outright. I know the punishment for offending a noble. But Eri’s entitlement—his self-imposed right to claim —has me feeling uncharacteristically bold, and the words tumble from my mouth before I can think better of it. “Absolutely not.”
His eyes flare with challenge, and he arches a brow.
“Oh? You think you have a choice?” He traces a cold finger down my arm.
“Let me spell this out for you: I make a request, and you grant it. That is the nature of the relationship between a Lord and a servant.” He watches me closely for a reaction .
One I make sure not to give.
After a moment, he huffs an amused laugh and saunters over to a vacant seat. Eri neatly folds one leg over the knee of his other, and rests his hands in his lap. “Go on,” he sings loud enough for all to hear. “ Dance .”
The King of Rivara, Alastair, bellows his regal voice. “What is the meaning of this, Eri? Do you seek to torment my prized attendant?”
Eri rises and bows deeply at the waist. “Not in the slightest, Your Majesty. I just hoped, on this very special day, my fellow noblemen and I would experience some of the fabled entertainment we’ve heard so much about.”
King Alastair wears a lazy grin as he rests his cheek on his fist. “And so you wish to see the girl dance?”
Eri’s eyes darken as he smiles. “If His Majesty would allow.”
The king laughs. “I do so love it when she does.” He looks over to the King of Erandor, Erasmus, perched on a golden throne to his right, and then to the King of Anatolé, Yarum, who is slumped unenthusiastically in his throne to King Alastair’s left. “What do my fellow kings think, hm?”
King Yarum speaks first. “I say do as you please, Alastair. It is your hall after all.”
King Erasmus nods in agreement. “We are not so ill-mannered to refuse any treats your gracious kingdom may offer us.”
King Alastair smiles with approval. “Very well, then.” His eyes glide to mine as he commands, “Entertain us, girl.”
The warning resting behind his gaze screams in the place of silence. Do not embarrass me. If you do, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.
I have been defiled and belittled in many ways, but there is something about this particular moment that pricks my skin and causes me to boil deep in the pit of my stomach. The king has commanded it, and so now I have lost, and Eri has truly won.
And I am so gods-damn tired of losing.
Yet what can I do? After what happened with my mother, I am blood-sworn to the king, forced to serve him no matter how unnerved and tiny his demands make me feel. If I want to survive, I have no other choice but to obey .
No matter how much I want to rebel.
Words my mother once spoke to me echo through my bones. They can take, and take, but the one thing they can never take from you is your reaction to things.
I steel my features and force myself to swallow the stinging bitterness, accepting the cruel truth. Nothing will change this. No one is coming to my aid, and there is no room for negotiation.
Honestly, if it wasn’t so demoralizing, I may have just laughed at the poetic irony of it all. For it always seems to come back to the eyes of men, expecting everything while offering nothing in return.