The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 07 - A proper warm bath

***

"Good evening, Your Majesty," I said through gritted teeth, curtsying low enough to hide the disdain on my face.

"Good evening, Princess," he replied, as if sharing a private joke.

I held the curtsy, hoping he'd move on. But as seconds crawled by, he remained fixed. When it became clear he wasn't going anywhere, I straightened, feeling every gaze in the courtyard upon us.

Dornhold Castle was as large as most cities. Decorated with waterfalls and twisted vines, its winding roads threaded through offices and bridged out toward the eight spires where the concubines lived. Now, those roads and walkways stilled, ministers, guards, and even concubines pausing to witness our exchange.

"Well, I'll be off then," I muttered, clearing my throat before turning to leave.

"Did you visit the Seneschal to petition for a promotion?" Sylvos asked amused.

My steps hesitated, but I kept my head high, intent on reaching Clover Castle.

"No," I replied curtly.

A rough hand seized my arm, spinning me back toward the emperor.

"You will face His Majesty when he addresses you!" the guard snarled, the steel in his armed glove biting into my skin.

I wrenched my arm free, meeting his hardened stare with a glare of my own. His armor, wrought in dark steel, bore thorned engravings and a dark emerald cape. His face twisted in cruel satisfaction.

"Do you think you can touch what belongs to me?"

Both the guard and I turned toward Sylvos with surprise.

The emperor's cold black eyes fixed on the guard and a shiver brushed over my skin. These were the eyes that haunted my final moments... This was the true face of the tyrant I came to know.

"Your Majesty, I only meant to..." the guard stammered, visibly shaken.

"I do not care for your intent," Sylvos interrupted icily, signaling for another guard behind him. "My wyrm has not eaten in some time. See that it receives its dinner."

The condemned guard's face paled, and he began to struggle, his pleas turning frantic as they dragged him away.

"Your Majesty! Please! I didn't mean—"

"That's too harsh," I protested. "He meant no harm."

Sylvos' smile was sharp and unfeeling.

"You may not understand the workings of my court, Princess," he replied, "but I allow my brides to walk freely among ministers and guards because each man here knows his life is forfeit if he dares to touch any of you."

I already knew the rule. I had seen hundreds of men executed for the smallest of offences. Yet the thought still churned my stomach. My hand itched to reach for Raincatcher, to feel its weight and plunge it into the root cause of my torment. But I held back. With my jaw tight, I turned away and resumed my path to Clover Castle.

Sylvos' footsteps on the stone road echoed close behind.

"Perhaps you'd care to join me for dinner, Princess," he called smoothly.

"I'd rather join the wyrm," I grumbled.

His laughter followed close behind.

"I could grant your wish, if you so insist."

I kept walking, but Sylvos' strides were longer, unhindered by the weight of a gown like my own. He easily caught up, his presence as unsettling as the thought of the vylnir.