CHAPTER 14 - The Royal Hunt
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I spent my day curled on the bed, attempting to ignore the lingering blush of mortification. My monthly cycle was finally nearing its end, but the thought of being tended to while I was in my fevered sleep set my cheeks aflame.
Boredom eventually drove me to explore the carriage.
It was surprisingly spacious, more a small room than a mere conveyance.
Furnished with a narrow bed, a desk, two chairs, and a basin for washing, it was perfect for long travels.
My fingers brushed over a small shelf of books, and I eagerly pulled out a worn volume on defensive strategies for castles under siege.
The hours melted away as I became immersed in reading.
It covered all sorts of topics, from positioning archers to strike from above, setting traps with boiling oil, and managing supplies for a prolonged siege.
I was especially hooked on the topic of rationing food, conserving water, and finding the strength to endure when all hope seemed lost.
By the time I lit a lantern to read further, and the procession stopped to make camp, I'd almost forgotten where I was.
"Enjoying yourself, Princess?"
The low voice startled me, and I glanced up to find the emperor in the doorway.
"I was," I muttered, returning to my book with a glare.
Sylvos began removing his armor and I couldn't help but watch from the corner of my eye.
His body, lean yet scarred from countless battles, showed signs of a warrior's strength tempered with an assassin's agility.
He was tall but not lanky, toned but not bulky.
And each of his movements was precise and graceful like that of a shadow lynx.
He slipped into a fresh black tunic, leaving the laces loose enough to reveal the sharp lines of his chest. I watched as he set his jagged silver crown on the desk as though it weighed more than his sword. Pouring two goblets of dark liquid, he handed one to me.
I would have refused if I wasn't so thirsty.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said like a curse, savoring the blackberry wine.
Sylvos sank lazily into a chair, resting his head on one hand, his black eyes on me.
"I'm afraid I don't keep any novels to entertain a lady," he remarked with a half-smile at the book in my hands.
"I'm enjoying this one," I replied, holding up the leather-bound tome. "Fortress Under Fire: A Guide to Enduring and Prevailing in Sieges."
"Ah, a thrilling read indeed," he chuckled. "I nearly forgot my new bride has a taste for warfare."
Ignoring his jibe, I settled against the pillows and took another sip.
"I do wonder why you keep a book on siege defense," I said. "You're always the one laying them."
"Yes, but understanding what sustains my enemy teaches me how best to break them," he replied.
"I suppose that explains your success."
"The key to success is preparing thoroughly." He tilted his head, eyes glinting. "It's best to overestimate your opponent. I never enter a battle I'm not sure I will win."
I scoffed at that last part.
"Then you must realize you've yet to face another cursed sword," I said, watching his face for a reaction.
"Flynmoore, Meadowwyn, Pineholt — none of these kingdoms you conquered had a sword like yours.
The southern kingdoms, though... I heard they all have one.
You'll have a hard time facing Driftwoode with its tide sword. "
And of course, there was the sword he feared most in my first life. The cursed sword of flame. Especially in the hands of Pyree's future king...
Sylvos smiled at my words as though I talked about the pleasantries of my day.
"Flynmoore possessed a royal bow — a troublesome one," he said. "And Meadowwyn's king wielded an axe that called the wind." He ran a hand through his silver hair, smirking. "My hair was an unruly mess for weeks."
I refrained from rolling my eyes.
"Their weapons were likely toys compared to Briarvex."
"That is true," he replied with a smile.
Although I already knew the answer, I had to ask...
"Why not abandon these endless conquests and care for the empire you already have?"
He shook his head slowly, the dark liquid in his silver goblet swirling under the flickering lamplight.
"The sword demands it, Princess. To defy its curse would be to lose my sanity."
I sat up a little straighter. Sylvos had never spoken of the sword's curse to me in my first life. I knew there was some price to pay... A condition to be met for its power.
"What does Briarvex demand?" I asked.
He reached over and pulled the sword close. Polishing the blade with a cloth, his fingers traced the delicate, lethal thorns engraved on its hilt.
"You know why they're called cursed swords?" he asked, his voice almost soft.
I nodded.
"A little bit... I know the curse is why my father chooses not to wield Fjulgor."
"Mmmm, yes, the storm sword must be a heavy burden to bear," he remarked.
"These swords grant immense power — but each one comes with its own curse, a dark thirst only its wielder can satisfy.
To refuse it is to lose your mind. I've heard the flame sword craves destruction, which explains Pyree's relentless assault on its neighbor.
As for the tide sword you are so worried about, its curse is a bit unclear to me.
Rumors say the king of Driftwoode has grown devoid of will or desire. "
"And Briarvex?" I asked.
"Control," he said, the word carrying a weight that echoed in the silence. "It's a conqueror's sword, demanding I seize everything until nothing remains beyond my grasp."
"Have you ever considered simply... not wielding it?"
He laughed bitterly.
"And how well is that turning out for Drakfjord? If not for your island's formidable defenses, your kingdom would've been sieged years ago. And without the sword's threat, your land cannot enter any profitable trades with the continent."
I scowled, though I couldn't exactly argue with him. My people were peaceful, but poor.
Sylvos set the sword down and continued nursing his wine.
"My father was like yours," he said. "Thornmont suffered years of starvation and attacks for the sake of the emperor's comfort. He even had to marry that Flynmoore whore of a princess so they could enter a peace treaty."
A chill settled over the carriage. I knew of Sylvos' brutal ascension, how he'd slain his father and the empress to claim the throne. But the details were unclear.
Before I could press further, a knock sounded at the door. A servant entered, bearing food that could rival any royal feast. Steaming spiced meat pies, herb sausages, pickled sweet vegetables, and frosted honeycake.
The food was laid out at the desk and Sylvos gestured to the chair opposite him.
"Do eat," he said.
Though I would've loved to refuse him, I loved the thought of a full belly more.
Now that talk of swords and war had faded, I withdrew again, offering only curt replies between bites.
The meal passed in tense silence, the occasional clink of silverware the only sound between us.
As the plates emptied and the candlelight deepened, my thoughts turned toward the night ahead. My movements slowed.
"I should probably rejoin the Clovers," I said, dabbing my mouth with a handkerchief.
"You'll sleep here tonight, Princess."
I stiffened.
"And where will Your Majesty sleep?"
The smirk in his eyes made me pale.
"Th-the bed is too small, Your Majesty!" I stammered.
"We've shared that bed for most of the trip," he retorted smoothly.
I swallowed, horrified.
"That explains my lengthy recovery..." I muttered.
He laughed, the sound a pleasant rumble under his breath. I would've given anything in my first life to hear him laugh like that.
"Princess, why do you loathe me so?" he asked.
I looked away, fearing he'd find the answer in my eyes. I needed his approval for promotion, nothing more. There was no need for me to gain his favor.
"I told you before..." I mumbled. "People from Drakfjord... we simply show affection differently."
"Though your... affection is amusing, it is rather hard to read," he said. "Do you still wish for a promotion from this hunt?"
"Yes," I replied, my gaze meeting his. "I'll take it right now if you'll grant it."
Since the vylnir was free, nothing was keeping me tied to Clover rank.
A smirk ghosted the emperor's lips.
"I told you, if you want an early promotion, you'll have to persuade me through other means..." His black eyes trailed over my body before crinkling into a smile. "Unless you are confident in your embroidery that is."
I glowered at the thought.
Admittedly, my embroidery relied on him playing favorite rather than my talent.
"I... I believe my handkerchief will be picked," I gritted out.
He laughed.
"If you think I will choose yours out of pity, you are mistaken. It would offend the rest of my brides if I do not choose the most skilled."
My mood soured. That much I knew about Sylvos. He respected people's skills and efforts. Even among his advisors, he chose those who worked hard over those with family ties.
He sipped his wine, eyeing me over the rim.
"Don't mistake me, Princess. No one wants to see you promoted more than I. After all, you're the one who pointed out that only Lavender rank and above share my bed. And I have been... curious as of late. If you wish for a swift rise, all you need is to show me it would be worth it."
I nearly choked on my wine, heat rushing to my face.
"I'll earn my rank the proper way," I managed, forcing myself to keep my tone steady.
He raised a brow, his gaze fixed on me.
"It won't be easy."
Frustrated at my situation, I stood up.
"I'll return to the Clover concubines now."
"I already told you, Princess, you're sleeping here."
"I am not Lavender rank, Your Majesty," I said bitterly. "And as we've both established, you do not share your bed with lesser brides."
Without waiting for a response, I left the carriage, heart pounding in my chest.
And I thanked the gods he didn't follow.
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Though the quarters in the Clover camp were cramped, I slept far better than I ever would under Sylvos' gaze. Lady Virella and Talia were both elated to see me, their relief flooding over me in waves.
"I kept the knife safe for you," Lady Virella said, handing over Raincatcher.
A weight I hadn't known I carried lifted as I took back my dagger, its edge glinting coldly. I peered at the reflection and found Ryn with his arms crossed and his eyes a deep green under his scowl. Fortunately, he kept quiet — wise enough not to start nagging with so many eyes around.
I'd have to appease the elf another time.
Five days later, we entered Flynmoore. The lush scent of oak and fern drifted through the air. Wildflowers and mushrooms scattered across the forest floors while birds with long tails flitted through the branches.
A regal envoy awaited us in a forest clearing, where the ground had been cleared and lavish accommodations readied. The delegates from Flynmoore groveled before Sylvos, who, in return, replied with cutting jests about their recent rebellion.
As dusk fell, tents larger than most castle halls rose around us.
An air of excitement rustled among the ladies while banners of black and green snapped in the cool wind.
Servants flitted through the camp, lighting torches and preparing accommodations for all the guests and concubines.
By nightfall, the camp glowed like embers in a hearth, strung lanterns casting strange shadows over the forest floor.
I dined with the Clover ladies in our humble accommodations. Though our tent was as large as the dining hall in Clover Castle, its simplicity was a stark contrast to the opulence of the other pavilions.
Virella grumbled about her aching back from the rough journey, while Talia prattled on about the berries and nuts hidden in Flynmoore's forests.
Music drifted through the camp, a haunting melody that tangled with the rustling trees. I let the eerie peace of the night lull me to sleep, but I knew better.
Peace was a fickle thing.
The next morning, the Royal Hunt was set to begin. Sylvos and a select few of his trusted nobles, alongside a contingent of Flynmoore's finest, prepared to set out.
"I do hope we catch the beast," said one of the young Flynmoore lords atop his tawny unicorn. "Legend says slaying the Celestial Mare blesses your wars with endless victory."
"Perfect," Sylvos replied. "I intend to have many wars."
Cloaked in a billowing black mantle, he looked every bit the conqueror he was. Each spike of his steely tunic and armor caught the pale dawn light, as though his height atop his steed didn't make him stand out enough.
He paused to glance back at us, his concubines, assembled like dolls on display. We held out our handkerchiefs like an offering.
I stared down at mine, sewn from a rough off-white fabric.
Despite my best efforts, the canary in its pie crust was obviously the worst among the presented.
Talia beside me had stitched a gallant white unicorn amidst wildflowers, while Virella's design included an intricate silver sword entwined with thorned roses.
Sylvos began his inspection, his gaze cool as he passed through the ranks of the Clover concubines first.
Cold sweat prickled along my neck.
I needed this promotion...
Sylvos approached with his customary indifference, but as he neared me, the mask cracked, and he chuckled at my handkerchief.
I wished I had succumbed to my fever.
To my surprise, however, his hand reached toward me.
Was he truly going to pick mine? Was fortune finally on my side?
My heart pounded in my chest.
Then stilled completely.
Sylvos dismissed my handkerchief with a flick of his wrist, retrieving Lady Virella's instead. I stared blankly as he continued down the line, selecting four more handkerchiefs from the higher ranked ladies.
My hand tightened around the crumpled cloth, a useless rag in my grip.
Despite the bitter taste in my mouth, I couldn't fault the emperor. My embroidery was a mockery compared to the others.
As the formalities finished, the crowd was dispersed, and Sylvos, with his noble entourage, disappeared into the forest.
I prayed the Celestial Mare would impale him through his black heart.
"Just my luck," Lady Virella sighed, brushing a loose curl of blonde hair from her shoulder. "I even held back my best work."
We slowly made our way back to our tent.
"Congratulations, Virella," I said. "You'll be Daisy rank once we return to Dornhold."
She scoffed bitterly.
"After all that effort at Clover Castle? It feels like a waste. Besides, green suits me better. Blue is such a dreary color."
Talia spoke up from beside us, her voice hesitant.
"I'm sorry you didn't get the promotion, Princess, but... I'm glad we can still stay together."
I smiled faintly at her.
"There are other opportunities. I'll secure a promotion at the Harvest Festival," I sighed. "At least there, I can rely on the talents I already have."
"And the Emperor's Birthday Ball is at the start of winter," Talia added, her eyes bright with hope. "You could gain his favor then too."
I nodded, though my heart sank.
"Yes, but... I wanted Lavender by winter."
At least with both these events ahead, I could show off my own talent from Drakfjord.
Back at the tent, the three of us parted ways. I had packed a journal for myself, and with quill and ink in hand, I slipped away to the edge of camp. Guards patrolled nearby, yet none questioned my quiet escape. Leaning back against an ancient oak tree, I set Raincatcher beside me.
"Where have you been?" Ryn's voice cut through the quiet. He paced back and forth in the clearing, his eyes narrowing with reproach.
"I was sick with fever," I replied with a sigh.
He sneered, revealing his sharp teeth.
"You left me with that dreadful woman! The blonde one. She kept calling me a knife! A knife, Rainey! I am a dagger!"
I couldn't hold back my laugh.
"Oh, stop your yapping. It's a small price to pay after our success with the vylnir."
He slumped beside me, casting a sideways glance at my journal.
"You failed your promotion, though," he remarked bluntly.
"I know," I muttered.
I flipped to a fresh page and began noting down the ranks of the harem. Starting at the lowest rank, I scribbled down the colors along with the number of concubines.
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I drew a line beneath the Peony rank, my gaze lingering on it. Even if I could secure a promotion at the Harvest Festival and the Emperor's Birthday Ball, I would still be one rank short of Lavender...
Would I truly have to sleep with Sylvos to make up for my failure here?
Before I could let the thought depress me, a shout pierced the air.
"Princess! Princess!"
I looked up to see a familiar concubine in a wide green gown rushing toward me, her face red and her eyes wide.
"Princess, you must come!" she begged, breathless.
I stood instantly.
"What happened?"
"There's trouble!" The woman's voice cracked. "The Nightshades... they've taken Lady Talia to be flogged! She's to endure a hundred lashes!"
A storm rumbled in my chest as fury flared within me. My knuckles tightened around Raincatcher.
"What!?" I hissed. "Take me there now!"
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