CHAPTER 36 - My bride
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"What's with all the mewling?" Virella asked.
I exhaled slowly, the sight stirring memories I'd rather forget. In my first life, I would have reveled in this — a macabre celebration of my triumph. Now, it only left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"When one concubine is promoted, another from that rank is demoted," I explained. "Lavender keeps fifteen ladies. To make room for us, others had to fall."
Virella's eyes lit with cruel amusement.
"Let's get a closer look at their sorry faces," she said, striding toward the commotion.
The remaining Lavender ladies turned to glare at us, their grief giving way to anger. One woman, her black hair gleaming under the torchlight, pointed a trembling finger at Virella.
"You wench!" she spat. "I aided you for years, and this is how you repay me? Taking my friends away?"
I perked up at the accusation while Virella's lips curved into a venomous smile.
"Lady Selestra, while I've appreciated the scraps you sent to Clover, I've decided my palate isn't suited to leftovers. I do hope you mind."
Selestra's dark eyes widened, her outrage painting her face crimson.
"You ungrateful woman," she hissed, crossing her arms over her silken purple gown.
"Ungrateful?" Virella repeated, her voice dripping with mockery.
"My dear Lady Selestra, let's not forget our arrangement.
Provisions for Clover in exchange for my exquisite lip service.
Do you have any idea how exhausting it was to scrape together even a handful of compliments about you?
So little about you lends itself to admiration. "
Selestra's fists clenched, her knuckles blanching as she stepped closer. For a moment, I thought she might strike Virella — a prospect that only seemed to amuse my companion further.
"You speak with such arrogance!" Selestra spat, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "If others refuse to vouch for you, the emperor will never bother to look your way. Let's see how long you last. I'd wager my salary you'll be sent back to Clover before the week is out!"
Virella's laughter echoed through the corridor, sharp like a blade dragging over stone. I might have reined her in if I weren't enjoying the spectacle so thoroughly. Selestra had been a thorn in my side during my first life. Watching Virella unravel her composure felt like justice served cold.
"And tell me, Lady Selestra," Virella drawled, tilting her head with a mockery of innocence, "when was the last time the emperor even set foot in Lavender Castle?" Her words carried like a death knell, drawing venomous glares from the other concubines.
Selestra's composure cracked further, her voice shrill.
"At least I have spent the night with His Majesty! I'm his favorite from Lavender!"
"When?" Virella countered, arching a golden brow. "A decade ago?"
"You—!"
"Enough of this squabbling!"
The Lavender Madam's voice cut through the tension like a whip. All eyes turned to her as she swept toward us.
"Lady Virella came to mock us, Madam," Selestra said quickly, her trembling hand pointing accusingly at Virella.
The latter seemed far more interested in brushing a speck of dust from her violet sleeve than in defending herself.
The Madam's gaze hardened.
"You should all be in bed!" she snapped. "Did you forget that your bodies belong to His Majesty? Arguing in the cold will only weaken you further. You must rest!" Her sharp brown eyes locked onto Virella and me. "Especially you two. Your list of ailments is already long enough!"
I exhaled slowly.
"Apologies, Madam. We shall—"
The doors to the castle suddenly burst open, cutting me off.
A gust of icy air swept through the hallway as the young messenger boy stumbled inside, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. His brown eyes were wide, and his face flushed with exertion. The weight of our collective stares seemed to paralyze him.
"A-a-ah..." he gaped.
"Well? Speak up, Finnel!" the Madam barked, her patience fraying.
The boy swallowed hard, stammering.
"Th-the emperor! H-he's on his w-way! T-to Lavender!"
The tension in the hallway shifted, the air thick with disbelief.
The boy extended a trembling hand, offering a sealed letter to the Madam. She snatched it and tore it open. Her eyes scanned the parchment, her expression betraying nothing — until her gaze lifted and found mine.
My heart pounded, each beat like thunder in my chest.
"We... We must get you cleaned," she said as though she struggled to believe her own words. "The emperor has requested Princess Raine for the night."
My stomach dropped all the way to the pits of damnation itself.
Sylvos was coming to Lavender... Already?
The air around me felt thin as I processed the situation.
He's lost his mind.
"Madam, are you sure you've read that right?" Selestra's voice wavered, her dark eyes darting between the letter, the messenger, and me.
The Madam didn't even glance at her. Instead, her cold hand gripped my arm.
"Come, Princess. We don't have time to waste.
You need to be bathed immediately," she said sharply before turning her glare on the gathered women.
"All of you, return to your rooms. Lock your doors.
I don't want a single whisper disturbing His Majesty or sullying Lavender's reputation. Do I make myself clear?"
The women nodded in terrified unison, their faces pale. Even Virella and Sireen looked lost for words.
The Madam's scowl then turned to the trembling messenger boy.
"And in the name of the gods, Finnel, stop that ridiculous shivering! Go back and inform His Majesty to proceed slowly. We have much to prepare."
Finnel's tanned skin turned ghostly pale as he stammered out a nod before bolting, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridors. Without another word, the Madam hauled me down the hall, my mind spinning as servants fell into step behind us.
We reached my chambers in no time. The scent of lavender oils mingled with the faint tang of metal as steam curled from the silver tub before the hearth. The bath had been prepared in haste, but everything else lay in disarray.
"Someone light a fire already! You could be executed for treason if His Majesty freezes with this draft!
You there, bring fresh oils! And clean this room thoroughly!
" the Madam barked at the servants. "Change the bedsheets.
Replace these damned candles with new ones. I want nothing out of place! Nothing!"
I barely heard her orders.
My thoughts continued to spiral.
This wasn't like Sylvos. He was a tyrant, yes, but a calculated one. In my first life, he'd never breached protocol so recklessly. He upheld his duties and kept to the list his Chamberlain provided.
"I have no idea what His Majesty is thinking," the Madam muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Feldor likely prepared a list of suitable names, and none of Lavender's should have been included."
"Madam," I managed, my voice thin. "Perhaps we could... inform His Majesty that I am unwell."
Her sharp eyes cut to mine, the faint lines on her face deepening.
"You better feel well soon enough, Princess. A woman who refuses her emperor has no place in this court," she said with finality.
Before I could protest further, the servants closed in, their hands swift and practiced as they began tugging at my gown.
"Wait! I can manage this myself," I said, pulling back, but they ignored me.
"There is no time," the Madam snapped.
I ground my teeth as their hands worked, undressing me layer by layer. My pulse spiked when they reached for my daggers.
"Ah— wait! Let me handle those—" I began, but one of them plucked the weapons from me, placing the blades carefully above the hearth.
With a perfect view.
I clenched my fists, swallowing my frustration.
"Yσυ ?????? ??σ?? ?συ? ????," I muttered in Elvish, my voice low enough to go unnoticed by the servants.
Ryn's voice drifted around me, faint but mocking.
"I'?? ?αι? ι? ??? ?α?? ?σ? ?συ, Rainey," he teased.
His words flowed much more intricately than mine, but we'd practiced enough for me to understand him.
My face burned at the elf's arrogance. I couldn't see where he was, but I knew he was somewhere here, probably having the time of his life.
"Dσ ?σ? ???? ??ι?? α?συ? ι?," I hissed, glancing around as if he might materialize from the shadows. "T?ι? ι? ?σ ?ι?? ?σ? ?συ? ?α???."
The Madam's stern voice broke through my private reprimand.
"Princess, what nonsense are you chanting?" she demanded as the last of my garments were stripped away.
My nails dug into my palms.
"It is merely a prayer," I said evenly, forcing a calm I did not feel. "A blessing in High Elvish, to ward ill will from the room. It's a tradition in Drakfjord."
The Madam snorted, her face pinching in disdain as she guided me toward the steaming bath.
"Best leave such traditions in Drakfjord," she muttered. "The sound alone is unnerving, and His Majesty would certainly not approve."
The water embraced me as I sank into the tub, its heat prickling at my skin.
The servants moved with efficiency, their hands scrubbing at me and working through my hair as if I were an object to be polished rather than a woman.
I shot a wary glance toward the shadows pooling around the far side of the bath, just in case Ryn had been serious about his teasing.
The process dragged on, every scrape and rinse leaving my skin raw and my pride thinner.
Servants came and went, flitting in and out, their whispers as cold as the draft sneaking through the balcony doors.
They brought wine, delicacies, and even fresh linens, but all I could focus on was the growing dread pooling in my stomach, twisting there as Briarvex had at the end of my life.
When the bath was finally done, they hauled me out, my body bared to the room as the Madam's curses filled the air.
"We've no suitable gowns!" she snapped, rifling through the closet with a growing fury. "You've only just been promoted. How can His Majesty expect you to have a fitting dress? Someone fetch one from the others — quickly! And I want no arguments. This is an order!"
A servant bolted, leaving me to endure the icy sting of ointments and perfumes applied to my skin. My face burned, the heat spreading to my neck as I imagined Ryn lounging unseen, watching with his eternal smirk.
"He's here!" a voice called from the doorway. A young maid stumbled inside, gown in hand, her expression pale. "The emperor has arrived at the castle entrance!"
The Madam's eyes bulged behind her spectacles.
"Escort him slowly!" she hissed, snatching the gown and spinning toward me.
I was swiftly pulled into the dress, the fabric clinging to me like morning fog. It was pale lavender with a sheen of silver under the dim candlelight, soft and flowing — but indecently thin. I felt more exposed wearing the gown than when I was bare.
The Madam stepped back, her mouth tightening into a grim line as she inspected me.
"There's no time," she said with a sigh of resignation. "This will have to suffice. Do not shame Lavender, Princess. Do everything His Majesty asks. Fulfill your duty. And when he is finished..." She paused, her gaze turning even colder. "Lie still, so his seed may take root."
Though I had heard this lecture in much greater length in my first life, it still left me flushed.
My knees trembled as everyone left, and I was finally alone.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the rich purple sheets. They felt foreign beneath me. And far finer than what I had before. My breaths turned shallow as I stared at the polished surface of the hearth, Raincatcher and Windcleaver perched silently upon it.
"What... what advice do you have for me?" I whispered into the room, my voice quiet over the crackle of the fire.
I knew Ryn was close. Though I couldn't see him.
"You're plenty experienced," his voice replied darkly from nowhere and everywhere at once.
My eyes darted to the shadows.
"Surely, this can be avoided," I pressed. "I must have managed it in some of my lives at least."
"There is a way," he said.
My heart stuttered, a fragile hope blooming for just a moment. But before I could ask, the sound of the door handle turning silenced me.
Ryn's voice brushed against my ear like a ghostly caress, as though he sat just behind me.
"Don't forget where he cut you, Rainey," he whispered. "Don't forget the scars he inflicted upon you."
Chills skittered down my spine as the door creaked open, shadows stretching and pooling in the corners of the room.
The emperor stepped through, his presence swallowing the light.
He wore the same attire from the feast: a dark tunic edged with silver, a sweeping black cape, and that crown — a jagged monstrosity of sharp points, more a weapon than a symbol of rule.
And then there was that smirk.
Smug.
Arrogant.
Dangerously pleased.
"Good evening, my bride," he greeted, his voice like silk as he unclasped his cape and tossed it carelessly onto a nearby chair. "At last, you've climbed high enough for me to visit you."
He unsheathed Briarvex from his back, setting it close by.
My thoughts tumbled too wildly to settle on an appropriate response, but I managed to force the words past my dry throat.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," I gritted out. "I informed the Madam earlier that I am unwell tonight. Surely, my name must not have been on any list."
He strolled past me with an unhurried grace, pouring two goblets of wine.
"You think a list has more authority than this empire's sovereign?" he mused, his smirk deepening as he crossed the room and pressed a goblet into my hands. "What ails you, my bride?"
His hand was cool as it rested against my forehead. He tilted his head, his black eyes glinting with amusement.
"You seem quite healthy to me," he remarked.
"I... I feel nauseous," I managed, clearing my throat and shifting slightly away from him.
He lowered himself onto the bed beside me, his movements languid and lazy. Propping his head on one hand, he gazed at me, a grin curling his lips.
"Oh dear, nauseous? Have you become pregnant in the short time since my arrival?"
My cheeks burned, the heat rushing to my face.
"What nonsense," I snapped.
"Relax, Raine," he chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly self-assured. He raised his goblet, clinking it lightly against mine. "The night is young. Stop looking as though I've come to devour you. I can be quite... gentle."
I begrudgingly took a sip of the blackberry wine, the taste rich and dark on my tongue. But the bitterness in my thoughts was far stronger.
What a liar.
I knew better than anyone that 'gentle' was certainly not an appropriate word to describe Sylvos in bed.
He leaned back against the cushions, swirling his wine as though he had all the time in the world.
"You're awfully quiet, Raine. Is my company truly that unbearable?"
Why must he use my name so much?
I didn't bother to hide my scorn as I met his gaze.
"I didn't realize I was expected to entertain you, Your Majesty. Perhaps the court jester is better suited to bed you."
His smirk widened, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face.
"Such sharp words. Has no one taught you how to soften your tongue in the presence of your ruler?"
"I learned early on that speaking plainly saves time," I said, taking another sip.
He laughed then, a low sound that was too genuine for the man I knew him to be.
It startled me.
"Plain speech suits you. I've grown tired of the sweet words from the inner court.
Your bitter tongue is far more enjoyable.
I find it... refreshing," he said, tilting his head as if studying me from a new angle.
"Tell me, Raine, was that same plainness of yours present in Drakfjord?
I never expected your island to have raised such stubborn princesses. "
If he thought I was stubborn, he had yet to meet my sisters. Claude was an immovable mountain, and Skye an unstoppable wind.
"What do you know of Drakfjord?" I scoffed, fixing him with a sharp look.
Sylvos leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his knee. His expression was disarmingly innocent. Though I knew better than to trust it.
"Only that it is a land of storms and wild seas," he said. "And that its women love to dance with daggers. Though, I must admit, I never expected it to be so... beautiful. You were quite the spectacle today. Tell me, can everyone in Drakfjord dance like that?"
His words stirred something within me, old memories that felt both near and impossibly distant.
Though I was grateful for this second chance at life, I often wished I had been brought back a decade earlier, rather than three short years. I only had a single day to spend with my family before I was returned to Thornmont.
I wished I had more time.
I wished I didn't have to leave at all.
"Everyone in Drakfjord dances beautifully," I said at last, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "Perhaps in their own way, but beautiful all the same."
"Their own way?" Sylvos asked, leaning closer, his silver hair framing his face.
His hand trailed close to my leg and a shiver brushed over me.
Focus, Raine, I told myself.
Don't forget who this man is...
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