The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 02 - Raincatcher

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【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

The ceremony was rather brief and underwhelming. As expected for a man with a hundred concubines, these matters needed to be swift work.

The sun relinquished its reign to a crescent moon, casting a silver light as we gathered in the dining hall. Like much of Stormgard Castle, the space was open to the night air, with flowing diaphanous curtains swaying gently in the spring breeze.

We took our places at the polished sea-salt table, the feast laid before us a mockery of celebration.

Father and Sylvos sat at opposite ends, while I occupied the emperor's right hand, suffocating under the weight of his conversation. With each quick-witted remark he made, my dinner grew increasingly difficult to swallow.

"I do hope my arrival wasn't inconvenient," Sylvos spoke up, brushing a silver lock of hair behind his ear. "I understand Drakfjord only allows visits in winter, but the journey was quite long."

"It's no problem," Father replied. "It's still early spring."

"Why winter, if I may ask?" Sylvos smiled.

I stiffened slightly as I drank my birch mead.

Any other season and our dragons would be dotting the skies.

"We are simply far too busy in the warm seasons," Father replied smoothly.

"I see..."

A slight tension settled over the table.

"Y-your Majesty," Skye piped up, her voice trembling.

Claude and I shot her daggers, igniting a deeper blush across her cheeks.

"Yes, Princess Skye?" Sylvos replied gently.

"I... I heard you have unicorns. Is that true?" she stammered.

He smiled, candlelight glinting in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I acquired them during my first conquest in the forests of Flynmoore. They have a taste for grass and flesh alike. It's fascinating. We've been breeding them since then. In three years, we might have a cavalry of these fierce beasts."

"That's amazing," she marveled, her pale eyes sparkling. "I've always wanted to see one."

"They've cost several of my men their eyes," he chuckled. "Their tempers are rather unruly."

"Perhaps they aren't meant to be tamed for war," I interjected, my voice slicing through the hall.

Silence blanketed the table, only the soft scrape of my silver cutlery breaking the stillness. Sensing the unease, Father filled the void with a hearty laugh.

"I suppose any beast can be tamed," he joked, but the humor felt hollow.

"Have you tamed many a beast here at Drakfjord?" Sylvos asked, leaning in with curiosity. "Your island is rather mysterious, after all. The only records to be found are from thousands of years ago. And you don't even allow visitors or merchants. I was so intrigued, I had to come here and see for myself."

A tense silence settled over us. My sisters and I exchanged wary glances, careful not to show our unease.

"Our only treasures are our storm-forged gems," Father said.

Sylvos watched him carefully.

For a moment, I thought he might press for more.

Then, he finally leaned back in his seat.