Kiora

Sorcha rushes into the room and quickly helps Kiora off the ground. Kiora trembles but doesn't say a word. Sorcha and the handmaids are also silent.

Kiora stares blankly, her body limp as the maids dress her. She knows they heard what happened, but they will not even acknowledge it. Not one maid, not even Sorcha, asks if she is okay.

Princess Alethia is untouchable.

Kiora's hands ball into tight fists as she tries to keep them from trembling. The Princess had disobeyed a direct order from the emperor and she's going to get away with it. Kiora could tell the emperor, but no one would back up her story. The emperor certainly won't believe her over the word of his sister.

There is nothing Kiora can do.

She knows it and the Princess knows it.

Kiora thought that the emperor disciplining her would be a good thing, but now Kiora can see that it has only made Alethia more dangerous. It has forced her to be more careful with her cruelty.

Kiora's heart sinks and a deep ache settles in her stomach. She shuts her eyes and lets out a long breath, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead.

"You're ready, my lady," Sorcha says.

"Oh, so now you know how to speak," Kiora snaps and steps away before Sorcha has a chance to reply. She knows it isn't fair to say. Sorcha and the other maids don't have the type of power to stand up against a woman like Alethia. To do so would possibly get them killed. But, lashing out at Sorcha gives her a little bit of relief against all the pent-up fear and tension that plagues her.

Outside the doors are attendants who wait to escort her to breakfast.

"I'm ready," Kiora tells them, her voice quiet. They nod their heads and start walking ahead of her.

As she follows, she nervously fiddles with the silks of her dress. Will the other wives already be there? Will the concubines be there too? How will the wives treat her under the watchful eyes of Princess Alethia?

Kiora's legs tremble with fear as they approach the doors into the great dining hall of the Alathor court. She can hear chatter and laughing beyond. It grows silent as the doors open.

Kiora steps into the grand hall. She pauses for a few seconds to take it in. There are three tables in total. Two are long, running up the room vertically. The concubines sit at them, eating from wooden bowls. At the end of the room, overlooking it, is the third table. The wives sit there.

Kiora looks between the concubines and the wives, her eyes widening at the differences. The concubines wear simple, elegant dresses and their tables are empty but for their bowls. The wives, on the other hand, wear spectacular dresses and jewellery. The table is full of large platters of food, consisting of vibrant fruits, pastries, cheeses and dried meats. If Kiora wasn't so nervous, she would enjoy the scents of fresh bread.

The attendant makes a gesture for Kiora to follow him. She starts walking once more. They make their way past the concubine tables. Kiora tries to keep the shock off her face as all the concubines bow their heads as she passes.

When she gets to the main table, she stops before it. She represses a shudder as Illyria's turquoise eyes bore into hers.

"Good morning, Lady Kiora," Illyria says and smiles gracefully.

Kiora forces a smile onto her lips and she curtsies.

"Good morning, High Lady Illyria," Kiora replies.

Illyria gestures to the empty seat at the end of the table. "Please, take your seat for breakfast. I'm sure you are hungry after last night's festivities," she says and laughs charmingly.

Behind Kiora, the concubines giggle. Kiora ignores it.

"Yes, I am," she says, then curtsies once more before walking over to the empty space. She sits next to a wife whose name she has yet to learn. As she takes her seat, the wife looks her up and down slowly before smirking and turning to Lady Arabella who sits on her other side.

"That is enough gawking," Illyria scolds the concubines, her voice playful. "Finish your meals."

They turn back to their bowls and start chatting amongst themselves once more. Kiora looks at the platters before her. Her stomach twists at the thought of eating, but she knows that by not joining the other wives, she would be considered rude.

As she reaches out for a pastry, the wife beside her slaps her palm lightly. Kiora flinches and pulls her arm back.

"Do not serve yourself," the wife says, "that is what they are for."

She clicks at an attendant, a sneer on her face. The attendant rushes over and bows at them before picking up the utensil.

"What can I serve for you, my lady?" he asks.

"Oh, two pastries and some fruit, please," Kiora replies. He barely has to move to serve her food. The platter is right in front of her. Kiora can't keep the frown off her face at the ridiculousness of it.

"Have you introduced yourself to our newest sister yet?" Lady Arabella asks, nudging the wife beside her.

The wife turns around and smiles tightly at Kiora.

"My apologies, Lady Kiora. I am Lady Beatrix."

"It is wonderful to meet you, Lady Beatrix," Kiora says and bows her head. Beatrix nods her head back and turns to continue talking to Arabella, leaving Kiora staring at her thick, blood-red hair.

Kiora looks away quickly and then back at her plate. Beside it, are tiny pieces of gold cutlery. Just as she picks it up, she hears the dreadful clicks of Princess Alethia's cane.

Kiora's hands start to shake.

"Good morning, ladies," Princess Alethia says, her voice stern.

Everyone in the hall stands. Kiora quickly follows and looks around wearily to watch what the others are doing.

"Good morning, Princess. I trust you had a pleasant night?" Lady Illyria asks.

"I did, Illyria, thank you for asking. Now, don't let me keep you from your breakfast. Sit. Eat," she chuckles. The noise sounds unnatural.

Everyone bows their heads and then sits back down. Kiora follows and looks at her plate, trying not to make eye contact with the princess who walks closer to the wives' table.

"Now ladies," she says, her voice low, and stern. "I need you all to look after Kiora today and teach her the way of life as part of his majesty's harem." She rests her hands on the table and leans a little closer. "Your new sister needs a little lesson, I think, in her responsibilities as a wife. Reassure her and remind her what an honour it is to share his majesty's bed."

Kiora bristles and looks down at her palms with shame. The other wives giggle, knowing exactly what the princess is talking about.

"Girls, that is enough," Princess Illyria says, her voice void of any amusement. "I'm sure we all remember how terrifying it was for all of us. We were all exhausted from spending the day in such grand dresses. What with the terror of getting married to a powerful man like the emperor in front of a whole city, followed by an extravagant party, I suspect our new sister was quite exhausted. We cannot judge. For all we know, it could have been the emperor who wasn't in the mood."

Kiora hears the insult in her final sentence, despite her tone of voice coming across as kind and understanding. The way the wives and Princess Alethia all bite at their lips to stop themselves from laughing tells Kiora they picked up on it too.

Kiora isn't sure what's worse.

Being judged for not wanting to lay with the emperor, or all the wives thinking that the emperor doesn't desire her, that it was the emperor who refused to consummate their marriage.

"Either way, it is none of our business. I am sure the emperor will call on Princess Kiora tonight once they've both had time to rest. Be assured, Lady Kiora, we will prepare you for your first romantic night with the emperor," she says with a wink.

Kiora gulps. "Thank you," she squeaks.

The Princess smirks. "Oh, I think Lady Kiora is quite prepared for acts of intimacy. Perhaps even experienced."

All their eyes fall on her. Kiora bites at her lips and blinks back tears.

"Anyway, I shall leave you all to it. I will return later to see how you are all adjusting to your new sister."

"Goodbye, Princess," they all say at the same time, bowing their heads as she turns to leave.

Kiora picks at her food, trying to ignore the way they giggle and whisper about her. Eventually, Lady Illyria stands. As she does, so does the rest of the room. Kiora follows.

"Come, it's time to go," Lady Illyria tells the other wives. Attendants rush in behind them and pull out their chairs. Then, Illyria leads the way, gesturing with a swipe of her head for Kiora to follow.

The concubines stay standing whilst the wives leave. Kiora can't help but think that all this sitting, standing, and bowing every time someone moves must make life here exhausting.

Kiora falls behind the other wives as they walk through the grand corridors.

They make their way into the gardens. Kiora sighs as the heat hits her, bringing with it the uncomfortable tingling sensation. She ignores it and diverts her attention to the gardens.

She has to admit, they are beautiful. The grass is rich and vibrant. Paths of sandy-coloured tiles cut through them, leading to sections of some of the most colourful flowers Kiora has ever seen.

Kiora pauses and watches as a bright purple butterfly lands on one of the roses. She smiles and reaches out with her finger. A small laugh leaves her mouth as it delicately flutters away.

"Kiora."

She stiffens hearing Illyria's voice. Kiora straightens and turns back to the wives. They've stopped ahead and are all turned to look at her.

"Come," she orders. Kiora gulps and lowers her head, skipping to catch up with them. They giggle as she approaches and continue to walk.

They eventually come to a stop by a large pond. It is pretty, with little white ducks swimming atop its clear waters and bright pink lilies decorating green lily pads. Delicate chairs and tables sit beside it. The wives that their seats. Kiora does too, her own chair separate from theirs.

Immediately, attendants approach.

"Bring me Liros," Illyria orders. "And tea."

The attendants bow and rush away quickly. Kiora picks at her nails as the wives ignore her. They laugh and chat away, gossiping about the ball the night before from the dresses the women were wearing to talking about scandals and affairs that plague the nobility.

A high-pitched shriek makes Kiora jump. She gasps and sits up. The attendant approaches and flying above him is a dragon.

Kiora's mouth hangs open and her eyes widen in horror.

The dragon is the size of a medium to large dog. Its deep teal scales glow in the sunlight and it snaps in the air as it tugs on the golden chain that the attendant grips tightly.

Despite being small, for a dragon, Kiora can see its strength. The attendant grits his teeth and sweat dribbles down his face as he tries to keep hold of the dragon.

Illyria laughs and stands, approaching them quickly. The dragon flies down, landing on the ground and nestling into her robes. It comes up to her upper thigh and when it stretches its neck, its face nudges her hip.

As she leans down to stroke his head, the attendant straps a golden cuff to her wrist. Once it is attached, the chain lengthens. Now calm, the dragon leaps back into the air. It is allowed to fly higher now and it glides effortlessly around Illyria's head.

Illyria turns and smiles smugly at the rest of the wives as they coo over the dragon. Kiora's hands tremble as she looks at the pair and a deep, fearful ache settles in her stomach.

Illyria's turquoise eyes land on hers.

Kiora freezes.

Illyria's lips pull onto a wide, beautiful smile. Kiora can see the cruel arrogance behind it and it sends shivers down her spine.

"Kiora," Illyria begins, her voice sickly sweet. "Come with me. It is time we had a little chat."