The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 04 - Canary Pie

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【𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐕𝐎𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄】

The welcoming banquet was usually a predictable affair.

From my seat at the end of the hall, elevated atop the steps, I had a view of it all. Lords forcing laughter at stale jests, concubines whispering behind jeweled hands, and my ever-watchful captain delivering reports like quiet condemnations.

"Before we march on Driftwoode, we must first rid the empire of these rebellions," Ser Bastian said as he stood before my table. "Four more lords were burned in their castles during your journey away."

"I heard of that," I replied, fingers tapping the carved armrest of my seat. "I agree with you, Ser Bastian. But I'm not interested in weeds. I want the root. Instead of cutting the heads of those stoking the flames, deliver me the fools funding their torches."

He inclined his head, long dark hair falling past the steely curve of his pauldron.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'll dispatch the Briarbound Knights under secrecy."

"See that you do."

The heavy doors of the hall groaned as they swung open.

I waved Ser Bastian away and sat a little straighter.

I'd been curious about this moment since my return. Welcoming banquets for my brides were usually dull spectacles — blushing girls paraded in silks too fine for their worth. Despite their false modesty, I could clearly see the ambition they harbored.

But this princess?

I suspected she'd offer something more... entertaining.

What color would she choose?

Surely the maids had informed her what the colors here meant. Though the way the princess had spoken to me previously, it seemed she might already have an understanding of the harem's workings.

Perhaps she would be arrogant enough to dress in black.

That would certainly be entertaining.

"Introducing Princess Raine Stjorme of Drakfjord," the herald bellowed.

Silence settled over the hall.

I leaned forward, fingers curling tighter around my seat's thornwood armrest. Even the musicians faltered before they scrambled to recover.

What could possibly have my court so stunned?

And then I saw her.

She moved across the threshold like mist unraveling — the palest of green silks clinging to her form in a delicate whisper. The off-the-shoulder cut exposed her pale collarbones while the corset cinched her narrow waist. From her hips, the dress spilled behind her like fog pooling in a valley. And to tie it all together, silver embellishments in the gown's design caught the candlelight beautifully.

Yet despite the grand design of her dress, I couldn't look past its colour.

Green.

It was an exquisitely soft hue, yes, but still a color reserved for the lowest rank of my harem.

Clover.

A deliberate insult to herself.

And, by consequence, to me.

I grinned at the sight.

The princess should have looked meek. Afraid. New concubines always were on their first night — eyes darting for allies, posture stiff with practiced grace. Yet this one walked with her chin high, gazing upon the room as though the entirety of my court was beneath her.