Kiora

Finally.

Princess Alethia says Kiora's name through tight lips.

"The emperor wants you tonight."

Kiora bows her head respectfully and ignores the sideways glares from the other wives in the line. Beside her, Beatrix leans into Dido and whispers in her ear. They giggle like little girls. One tap from Alethia's cane on the stone ground has them straightening, the smiles falling from their faces.

"The emperor has spoken. You are all dismissed. Lady Kiora, go and get ready."

They all curtsey, then scurry out of the hall, the concubines sighing and moaning in disappointment.

Illyria falls into step beside Kiora. Not wanting to look as though she is thrilled by the news that the emperor, after months, has finally called for her again, Kiora puts on a calm smile.

"Is there something I can help you with, High Lady?" Kiora asks, her voice innocently sweet.

"No, Lady Kiora. I just wanted to congratulate you on finally being summoned by the emperor again. I hope that you have found the last few months away from him enlightening."

"Oh, absolutely, High Lady. I feel as though I've finally discovered my place amongst you."

"Wonderful," Illyria says, then smiles a dazzling smile. "Well, have fun tonight." She winks and Kiora looks away shyly.

Once Illyria has gone, the smile falls from Kiora's face. If the emperor thinks, after falling for Illyria's manipulations and punishing Kiora for crimes she didn't even commit, that she would give her body to him tonight, then the emperor is very much mistaken.

Kiora walks into her room where Sorcha and her ladies wait. They squeal and giggle excitedly.

"Finally, Lady Kiora. It was only a matter of time before the emperor realised how much he missed you," Sorcha says as Kiora takes a seat at her dressing table. She smiles but doesn't reply.

"I mean, it's shocking that he would even wait this long. Everyone knows you are the most beautiful wife here..." Sorcha carries on talking quickly, rambling about Kiora's beauty and grace. Kiora listens and thinks carefully, planning how she is going to work this evening.

Is she going to unleash all of her pent-up anger on the emperor?

No. She doesn't want another ban from the only things that bring her joy in this wretched place. But, she also doesn't want to come across as a push-over either. The emperor enjoyed their debates, he enjoyed it when she challenged him. He may lose respect for her if she becomes nothing but a meek and obedient woman.

Kiora bites at her lips.

Perhaps she could use that to her advantage though, a passive-aggressive fuck you to him to teach him a lesson.

She smirks to herself, then catches her reflection in the mirror. She must admit, Sorcha has done a beautiful job on her hair.

The silver-lilac locks glisten. They hang down her back in gentle waves and tiny, loose braids decorate the crown of her head. Little sparkling pins have been nestled around, catching the light at different angles and sparkling.

She shuts her eyes as Sorcha applies some shadows and liners. When she opens them, she nods her head in approval at the delicate silvers. Sorcha pulls out a red lipstick. Kiora holds up her hand.

"No. I want something softer. A glittery pink, perhaps."

"Yes, Lady Kiora," Sorcha replies. Kiora smiles softly.

She has an image to maintain. Image is everything. It is more than just a reputation; it is a shield.

Kiora is beautiful. She knows it and now she will embrace it. But, not in the same way as the other wives. She doesn't want to be sexy or striking – not that anything is wrong with that. Kiora wants a more gentle, ethereal and magical beauty. She isn't human. She wants all the court to know it too, to see her as something more, as something special. She wants to be on a completely different level from the other wives. The innocent one, the one who can do no wrong so that the next time Illyria makes one of her plays, no one will believe her.

A knock on the door has a bolt of fear jolting through her. Alethia doesn't wait for a response before she opens them and walks inside. Kiora sands to curtsey.

"Princess," she says, bowing her head in respect.

Alethia takes in a sharp breath and shakes her head, her jaw clenched.

"Is something wrong?" Kiora asks softly.

"No," the Princess says, her stern face not changing expression. Kiora bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to snap at her. It takes a lot of strength. Kiora isn't sure who she hates more. Illyria or Alethia.

Alethia walks toward her, the cane clicking on the stone ground. She stops in front of Kiora and grips her chin tightly. She inspects Kiora's face, almost like she's looking for an imperfection. When she doesn't see one, she lets go of Kiora harshly enough that she almost stumbles back. She plays it off as though nothing happened and smiles charmingly at Alethia.

"Am I dressed appropriately?" she asks.

"You're fine," Alethia replies through tight lips.

Kiora has long since resigned herself to the fact that Alethia never will be a friend or ally in this place.

"Do not keep the emperor waiting any longer, Kiora. You have wasted enough time already," she orders, then turns and storms out.

Sorcha lets out a long breath and shakes her head.

"Strange woman," she mutters.

Kiora nods her head in agreement.

"Anyway, you'd best be going. I'm sure you're excited to see the emperor again," Sorcha says, then sighs dreamily.

"I am thrilled," Kiora replies as she walks to where the guards wait outside her door, ready to escort her to the Athan's chambers. Alethia walks ahead, her cane echoing around the corridor as she clicks it against the ground. Each thump sends a chill down Kiora's spine.

Just before they arrive, Alethia turns around to face Kiora. Slowly, she walks closer. Kiora stays deathly still as Alethia leans in and whispers harshly in her ear.

"Perform your duty tonight, Kiora," she says. " Or I'll see to it that you're never even in the same room as my brother again."

Kiora forces on a gentle smile. "I will be the wife his majesty needs me to be," she says.

Alethia narrows her eyes at Kiora, her jaw clenched.

"You aren't as special as you think you are. If your most recent seclusion hasn't shown you that yet, then perhaps you aren't ready to be released from your punishment."

Kiora tries not to tense as the urge to slap Alethia pulses through her. Instead, she balls her hands into tight fists and hides them in her skirts. She will not let Alethia or Illyria manipulate the emperor into punishing her again.

Months of loneliness, with none of her books and no company from Athan, has been miserable. The cruel words and taunts from the other wives only added salt to injury. So no, that is not going to happen again. Not if she can help it.

"I promise you, Princess Alethia. I am a changed woman."

Alethia doesn't look convinced.

She takes a step back and shakes her head. "I don't know what he sees in you," she mutters under her breath.

Kiora ignores her comment and looks at the door of the emperor's quatres. Her stomach flutters with nerves. This is it. This is the moment that will change her time here forever. This is the moment that will change her relationship with Athan forever.

There are only two outcomes here. She succeeds and slowly starts working her way into his good graces, or she fails and she becomes the wife at the bottom of the food chain, the wife who everyone mocks and taunts.

No. That cannot happen.

The guard knocks on Athan's door and then opens it after hearing a shout from inside.

Kiora takes in a slow, deep breath and then forces on the most delicate, beautiful smile she can muster. Despite her gentle, relaxed deminer, Kiora's thoughts are a blur.

Make a decision, Kiora. How are you going to play this? How are you going to play him?

Her eyes lock on him and for a second her mind goes blank as she takes in his beauty. It's been so long since she's been this close. She'd almost forgotten how magnificent he really is.

He is relaxed, his hair left down, the golden locks falling raggedly to his shoulders, hiding the shaved parts at the side. His scales that dance across his hairline and cheekbones almost glow in the firelight. Kiora almost wants to run her hands over them.

The shirt he wears is loose and open, showing the top of his muscular chest, his tanned skin almost glowing gold in the firelight.

Then, there are his eyes. Those magnificent dragon eyes stare at Kioa so intensely that she feels like she is the only one in the world. If she had a heart, it would be racing. If she had blood, her cheeks would be warm, her face red.

But Kiora is the epitome of composure. She uses the fact that she doesn't have regular human functions to her advantage, to make it look as though she isn't completely flustered by being in the same room as Athan once more. To make it seem like his presence alone, and his addictive scent of warm spices and smoke doesn't make her want to melt into his arms.

She curtsey's, bowing her head. "Your grace," she says and the doors shut behind her.

Athan continues to stare at her and her smile falters.

"Is something wrong, Your Grace?" she asks innocently.

"No, not at all, Kiora. You look spectacular. And we're in private now, you know you can call me Athan."

Kiora laughs, the sound like enchanting music.

"Why would I do that, Your Grace?" she asks, "I wouldn't want to forget my place."

So, she's going with the passive-aggressive approach. Yes, this will work.

Athan sighs and closes his eyes, guilt written all over his face.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Kiora asks, "for me to know my place as a wife? I understand now that during our debates, I was speaking out of place. It is not very wifely to be knowledgeable in politics, history, geography, or languages. So now I will be exactly how I should be."

"Kiora," he groans.

"Is something wrong, Your Majesty?" she asks.

His jaw clenches. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Can you please be angry at me rather than... this?" He gestures in the air toward her dismissively. Kiora keeps her composure, smiling charmingly.

"Angry at what, emperor? You punished me how you saw fit. I am just the new wife. I have no right to question your authority or decision-making. And you certainly had no obligation to hear my side of the story or let me defend myself. No, you are the all-knowing, all-powerful emperor. The silly arguments between your wives are nothing you need to worry about."

He closes his eyes and rubs his temple before sitting down in his chair.

"Kiora, please. I don't want you to be like my other wives, I like you how you were, I like your intelligence. I've missed you."

Kiora stares at him harshly, trying not to let out a disgusted laugh and shout at him.

'Whose fault is that?' she wants to scream. No, she wants to do more than scream at him. She wants to slam her fists on the table, kick the chairs, shout in his face and ask him if he understands how much he has hurt her. She wants him to understand how lonely she's been and the pain she's felt whilst the other wives mock and torment her. She wants to yell at him about how the guards and the maids snicker at her behind her back, how they whisper of how she's a failure of a wife.

"Your majesty," she says, and takes a seat, lowering herself into the chair elegantly. "I assure you, you don't need to test me. I have learned my lesson. I understand my place."

"I'm sorry, Kiora. Is that what you want to hear?" he asks.

No. It isn't really. Kiora isn't sure what she wants him to say, but sorry just isn't enough.

"For what, emperor?" she asks.

He grits his teeth and slams his hand on the table in frustration. Kiora doesn't flinch. She just sits there like an emotionless statue, the delicate smile still on her face.

"Stop this, please," he pleads.

Kiora just blinks at him, not even bothering to respond. He sighs and stands up, walking over to her. Slowly, he sinks to his knees before her and takes her hands. Kiora raises her brows in surprise.

"There are matters at play that you just do not understand," he says, his voice cracking.

She narrows her eyes at him. She bites at her lip, her tongue burning with everything she wants to say. She takes in a deep breath and thinks about her next words carefully. Fine. She'll give him a piece of her mind. But she won't let him see her angry. She will speak with class and grace. She'll use her words instead of her tone to hurt him, to cut him deeper than shouting would.

"You know, I thought at first that you didn't want to see me or acknowledge me because I shared my age with you. I got it into my head that you were intimidated at the thought of having a wife who would not age because it meant that in ten, fifteen years, you wouldn't be able to get rid of me as easily as your other ageing wives – you couldn't use the excuse of me wrinkling and weakening. But then it became clear."

"No, Kiora," he interrupts, his eyes piercing into hers. "It's the opposite."

Kiora holds up her hand, silencing him.

"What became clear to me, is that our conversations, our time together, is far from private. I thought we had mutual respect, but I was mistaken. You see, I told no one about our time together. I never discussed our debates and I never so much as even looked at a book around anyone but you and Sorcha. So, imagine my surprise, when High Lady Illyria told me that I had been bragging about my reading and my intelligence to the other wives. And, if the information about our time reading and talking didn't come from me, well, it must have been you who told her about what we do when you call upon me."

"It was a passing comment," he replies, "during an argument with Illyria."

He looks down ashamed and Kiora scoffs. "Even worse, you took something special to the both of us, and you let Illyria use it as a weapon to attack me."

He flinches at her words.

"I am so sorry, Kiora."

"I don't want to hear it, emperor," she snaps, finally letting some venom enter her voice, unable to restrain her months of anger any more. She rips her hands from his and stands up. "It's going to take a lot more than pathetic grovelling to make amends and have our relationship return to how it was."

"Then what do you want, Kiora?" he asks, standing up.

She squares her shoulders and looks him in the eyes.

"I want a dragon."