Born to be Empress

Chapter 9 - Royals can be jealous too

Phaedra's pov:

Time flew by as I settled into life at the palace. Six months had passed, and my days followed a monotonous routine of dance and music lessons. The only moments of genuine enjoyment came during my healing sessions with Octavius and the nightly conversations with Alina and Marcus. In those months, I learned a great deal about herbs and remedies and became proficient at playing the harp.

Yet, I couldn't ignore the ache of rejection. The Emperor had not summoned me to his chambers since that first encounter. I couldn't help but wonder—had I done something to displease him? Why didn't he want me anymore? These questions lingered in my mind, heavy and unanswered.

One Sunday morning, news spread through the palace of an important visitor. This meant one thing: hours of grueling practice to perfect our performance. By the afternoon, we were finally allowed a short break to eat and rest. I took the chance to indulge in a quick bath and a light snack.

When the evening came, we donned our performance attire, transforming into visions of allure and grace. I wore a striking red dress adorned with golden embellishments, its design leaving little to the imagination. A translucent gold veil covered my face, revealing only my eyes, which were dramatically lined with black kohl.

A guard soon arrived, summoning us to the ballroom. My heart pounded as we walked toward it, an ominous feeling tightening in my chest. Something felt off, though I couldn't place why. As we stood before the grand doors of the ballroom, I inhaled deeply to steady my nerves. Moments later, the doors swung open, and we entered, gliding gracefully into the grand space.

We bowed deeply to the Emperor and his esteemed guests, our movements polished and fluid. But even as we rose and prepared to perform, that dreadful feeling refused to leave me.

The grand ballroom was bathed in golden light, its high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes of mythical tales. The polished marble floor reflected the shimmering glow of crystal chandeliers. At the far end of the room, seated on an ornate throne, was the Emperor.

His expression was unreadable, a stoic mask that offered no glimpse of his thoughts. Beside him sat a man dressed in uniform, his demeanor commanding and cold. From his appearance and the way others seemed to defer to him, it was clear that he was the important visitor we had been warned about.

Some of the girls seated themselves on the right side of the room and began playing music, while the rest of us formed a circle in the center. The air was thick with anticipation as we gracefully took our positions. My red dress shimmered with each movement, the golden embellishments catching the light. The veil over my face felt suffocating, but I kept my composure, knowing that any mistake would be unforgivable. As the melody began, slow and rhythmic, we moved sensually, our bodies swaying in harmony with the music. Gradually, the tempo quickened, and so did our movements, weaving an intricate pattern of grace and allure.

As I danced, I stole a glance at the Emperor. Once again, he looked breathtakingly regal in his black ensemble, embroidered with intricate gold ornaments. His jet-black hair was perfectly styled, framing a face that was both commanding and achingly handsome. He was the embodiment of power and elegance. For a brief moment, his piercing gaze met mine before he turned away, indifferent.

Continuing to dance, I felt another presence—a gaze that burned with intensity. As I turned during the lap of our routine, I caught sight of its owner. He was a man of about thirty, tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully built. His piercing blue eyes held a sharpness that made my stomach twist. His face was hard, chiseled, and marked by a prominent scar slashing across his left cheek. He, too, wore a black uniform, though it was less ornate than the Emperor's.