Kiora

Step one in Kiora's plan.

Acquire a dragon.

The only wife who has been gifted a dragon is Illyria. Kiora had no idea how much power that held until now.

The ball is in full swing. Kiora doesn't know what it's for as no one has explained it to her. Athan still isn't calling upon her. It's been nearly two weeks since Illyria had told her of the punishment she and the emperor had come up with after Kiora's 'comments.'

Two weeks of sitting in silence as the other wives gossiped. Two weeks of lying in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, envisioning the walls closing in on her. The visions were so realistic, that she could almost feel the crushing weight of them as they pushed her further and further into a tiny, empty little world.

With every passing day, Kiora feels a deep rage bubbling within her. The emperor could at least call upon her to tell her himself that he was about to take away the one thing that brought her any joy. If not that, he at least owed her the opportunity to defend herself. It leaves Kiora wondering how a man so powerful could be such a coward. How can he face great armies and conquer kingdoms, but not a single, simple woman?

She sighs and shakes her head, watching as Athan mingles in the distance with some important guests. Kiora has no idea who they are, why they're here, or why they are celebrating. Kiora doesn't have the energy to care about that anyway. Her attention is solely on the High Lady.

Illyria sits on a throne of ivory stone that is decorated with delicate twisted gold. Standing alongside her throne is a tall, golden perch where her dragon rests. It shifts uncomfortably and every now and then, it snaps at its ankles where a shackle of gold tightly wraps around its scaly skin.

Whenever someone walks too close, the creature roars at them, its wicked little shrieks filling the hall, despite the loud chatter and the music. Every now and then, Kiora feels a burst of heat on her face and a sees flash out of the corner of her eye as the roaring dragon blasts a wave of fire into the air. The display is met with a strange, uncomfortable clap by the crowds.

Kiora hates the way everyone looks at Illyria.

She is magnificent, Kiora can't deny that. Wearing a dress of royal blue and gold, Illyria looks like nothing short of a goddess. The way the twisting golden vines curl over the delicate, rich silks, linking with the incredible gold and sapphire encrusted headdress that rests upon her silky black locks, has everyone gazing at her with a mixture of envy and awe.

Illyria soaks it up. She sits on her throne, her sparkling, full lips pulled into a beautiful, confident smile and her turquoise eyes shining with joy. With her dragon by her side, no one pays any attention to the other wives. It is almost like Illyria is the only one in the room who matters.

Kiora sits on a throne of her own. Its location is right at the end of the line of thrones for the wives. With Illyria's being closest to the emperor's grand seat, though not right beside it, Kiora's is the furthest away. She peaks out of the corner of her eye. The wives sit in order of the length of time they've been married, meaning that to her immediate left, sits Lady Dido.

Just like Kiora, Lady Dido sits straight, her posture perfect. That's all they are really allowed to do tonight. This isn't a party for them, they are just the pretty little dolls to be ogled at and admired from afar. They are the creatures to make the emperor look better, to make him look more powerful.

A blast of heat and a flash has Kiora twisting back to look at the little dragon. Liros's neck stretches out as he roars at two men. They stumble back as his teeth snap at the air. Illyria chuckles.

"Liros, that is enough," she says, then taps her lap. Liros turns to face her, then stretches out his wings. He leaps off the post and glides onto the floor beneath her. He sits in front of her and rests his head on her lap.

Kiora can't help but clench her fists in anger as Illyria receives looks of respect and fear. She is the High Lady, the closest these people have to an empress. She's the emperor's favourite.

With that comes more power than Kiora had realised.

Kiora grits her teeth in frustration and looks away to stare over the grand splendour before her. She feels nothing as she gazes at the array of beautiful, colourful dresses and elegant dancing. Even the music brings her no joy.

She feels empty but for that deep, simmering rage mixed with, what she hates to admit, jealousy.

If she is going to be here for the next few decades of her life, then she wants what Illyria has. To get there, she needs a dragon.

Kiora's eyes find Athan. He is still talking to his important guests. For a moment, their eyes meet. Kiora gulps, her mouth drying. In that second, everyone else in the room disappears and all sound fades away. The only thing that exists is her, and Athan.

She hates to admit it, but she's missed him. She's missed staring into those beautiful dragon eyes. She's missed his company.

He looks away first and Kiora's jaw clenches as that anger bubbles to the surface.

Coward.

The emperor laughs with his guests, then nods his head respectfully before moving away. Kiora watches as he walks toward them. He doesn't meet her eyes as he approaches Illyria. She smiles widely as he holds out his hand. Liros jumps up, his wings flapping wildly as he flies over to his post once more.

Taking his hand, Illyria stands and follows him to the dance floor. Everyone parts way for them, bowing at the pair as they pass. Kiora tries not to glare at them. She tries not to notice the way they gaze into each other's eyes, or at their wide smiles, and how they dance like no one else is in the room.

That rage within her grows, bubbling up within her and making her feel stiflingly hot. Her nails scratch at the throne, leaving tiny marks in the ivory wood.

"If looks could kill."

Kiora turns toward the person who just spoke to her. She recognises him immediately as one of the emperor's important guests. Kiora forces on a smile. He chuckles charmingly, making little dimples on his cheeks as he pulls his lips into a mischievous smile.

"Am I being that obvious?" she asks, not in the mood to hide it. He shakes his head.

"No, not really," he replies. "I was just making an educated guess."

"An educated guess?" Kiora asks, raising a brow.

He turns to face Athan and Illyria who are still dancing like they're the only people in the world.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that your husband dancing with another woman like that must stir up a little bit of anger in the wives left to do nothing but watch. Especially the wife left right at the end."

Kiora lets out a small laugh and nods her head.

"It wouldn't be so bad if the wife in question wasn't..." Kiora sighs and trails off.

"A raging bitch?" he asks.

Kiora's brows raise and she bites back a laugh. She clears her throat awkwardly and thinks of her words very carefully.

"That isn't what I was going to say," she tells him.

"Right," he laughs and then runs a hand through his silky black hair. "But trust me, I know. Illyria is my sister, after all."

Kiora's mouth nearly drops open in shock.

"I wasn't expecting that," she replies. His grin widens and he nods his head.

"No, we don't look that alike," he says.

"I think I see it now you mention it," Kiora admits, realising that their skin tones are very similar, along with their hair colour and the shape of their noses.

"Please don't say that," he jokes. He straightens his red, velvet tunic and then looks over to where Illyria and the emperor dance.

"So, you're new?" he asks.

"The emperor and I have been married for a few months now."

"I bet she hated you from the moment she laid eyes on you," he says lowly.

"Why do you say that?" Kiora asks curiously. He turns back to look at her, his brow raised.

"Because you're the most beautiful woman in this room," he replies.

Kiora laughs and shakes her head. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she tells him.

"It's worth a try," he replies with a wink. Kiora rolls her eyes.

"Why are you here anyway?" she asks.

"A little blunt, don't you think?"

"I don't have the energy to skirt around the subjects I want to discuss. It's better just to ask the question directly, even if it is inappropriate for a wife of the emperor to do so." She can't help but roll her eyes as she says the last part.

"Yes, I've always found that part of court life exhausting," he replies. "It's funny, isn't it? The things that are considered rude to do when you're meant to be the prim and proper lady of the court?"

"It feels like I make some sort of mistake every day," Kiora admits with a sad sigh.

"Well, in answer to your question, we visit every year." He turns and gestures to the other men wearing similar red tunics. One in particular looks especially grand with great jewels encrusting his silky, velvety robes and a simple golden band around his head.

"That's our oldest brother and Lord Protector of Delathor."

"Didn't Delathor used to have a monarchy?" she asks, remembering it from her travels. He pauses and turns to look back at her with wide eyes.

"Yes," he says. "Would it be rude of me to ask how a lady like you knows that?"

"Very," Kiora replies.

"Well yes, you're right. It used to be ruled by a monarchy. Of course, that was until the emperor came along and claimed the lands as his own. Now, it is just another state in his empire."

Kiora nods her head, hardly surprised.

"Illyria was a part of the negotiations," he states.

"From Princess to High Lady," Kiora says.

"Not quite. She wasn't High Lady when she first arrived. She was only fifteen after all." He pauses and laughs upon looking at Kiora's face. "Do not worry, the emperor didn't actually marry or touch her until she turned twenty."

Kiora still narrows her eyes and shoots a glare over at the emperor.

"There was a favourite before Illyria."

"What happened to her?" Kiora asks and bites her lip, not sure she wants the answer.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Kiora looks at Illyria as she dances with the emperor, her smile wide, beautiful, and calculated.

"She's a talented manipulator," he warns. "And she's very important. She's the only thing keeping my brother from declaring independence."

So that's why the emperor favours and protects her so much.

"One woman is holding the peace between your two nations?" Kiora asks, not sure she quite believes it.

"She's holding the peace of the empire as we know it. You see, if anything happens to Illyria, then my brother declares independence and goes to war. If our nation declares independence, the rest follow. Now, we'll lose, no doubt about it. We have the numbers, but not the dragons. That being said, even though the emperor would win in the long run, it wouldn't be without destroying half of his empire in the process. No one wants to see this realm turn to ash."

"That's one very thin thread," Kiora comments.

"That's politics for you," he shrugs.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks curiously.

"Because I can sense a war coming," he tells her and then looks between Kiora and Illyria.

Kiora frowns. "You can?"

He nods his head, his expression serious now. "You've spent the whole evening staring at Illyria and watching how the people in this room admire and respect her, that you haven't been paying attention to how they act upon seeing you."

Kiora doesn't reply and she narrows her eyes, not quite believing him.

"What I am trying to say, Lady Kiora, is that when this war between the two of you breaks out, you need to be very careful. Now, I don't give a shit between two sparing wives. I don't even give a shit if you knock Illyria down a peg or two and take her place as High Lady. Neither does my brother. What we do care about, however, is her safety and her position within these walls. The deal of our contract states that Illyria must remain a wife until the day she dies, of natural causes, of course. It also states that an heir must be produced between her and the emperor."

"What does this have to do with me?" Kiora asks, her voice coming out curter than she intended.

"I'm warning you, Kiora. Battle out with Illyria as much as you want. But make sure during that battle she isn't removed from the harem or worse, seriously injured or killed. I may hate the bitch, but she's still my sister and I still love her."

He stares into her eyes intensely. Kiora gulps, watching as the blue orbs start to darken and flicker with shadows.

"If you hurt her, we'll make you suffer in ways you could never imagine. Do you understand? The emperor himself will not be able to protect you from our wrath."

Kiora meets his eyes, trying to appear unfazed by his comments despite her stomach clawing and churning with unease. She doesn't know much about this man or what skills he possesses, but somehow, she knows that his threat isn't a bluff.

"You have nothing to worry about. I have no intention of ever hurting your dear sister. Trust me, I don't have a violent bone in my body," she says, and smiles politely.

"Good," he replies, and in a flash, the charming grin returns to his face.

"Well, it was good to meet you, Lady Kiora," he says, then bows and turns before she can reply, leaving Kiora to stare at his retreating figure.

Her jaw tightens and she lets out a shaky breath. When she turns to look back at the emperor and Illyria, Illyria's turquoise eyes bore into hers. On her lips is a cruel, knowing smirk.

Kiora lets in a sharp breath and looks away quickly as a cold, clammy sweat breaks out across her skin.

If she has any chance of surviving this game of politics, then Kiora has a lot to learn. A long sigh leaves her mouth and she leans back on her throne, resigning herself to the fact that she is going to have a lot more failures before she succeeds. But, unlike Illyria, Kiora has time on her side. Whilst Illyria ages, Kiora will remain looking young and beautiful. She just knows that it will eat Illyria alive. That alone may send her mad with jealousy.

Kiora smiles softly to herself.

The long game begins now.