The death of the tyrant's concubine

Let Us Be Off

I hugged my sisters tightly, my eyes prickling.

"We'll miss you, Sister," Skye sniffled against my shoulder.

"Take care of yourself," Claude cautioned.

We embraced by the stony shore at the foot of our mountainous castle. Mist clung to the air, obscuring the ship anchored further out, its dark silhouette barely visible. A solitary rowboat bobbed in the water, waiting for me, while the previous vessel had already ferried the emperor away to his ship.

I held onto them both, burning this peaceful memory into my mind.

At the end of my first life, I heard Claude was preparing to take over the throne. And Skye... My sweet Skye had been stolen, dragged away by Pyree's war-hungry king.

But now, they were here. My heart clenched and I hugged them tighter, as if my grasp alone could shield them from what's to come.

Claude was already aware of my plans, but Skye was not.

Though I dreaded involving my younger sister, it was inevitable. And instead of fighting an unavoidable fate, it was better to make use of it.

The three of us finally let go, tears glimmered in our eyes.

"Don't worry about things here," Claude whispered.

"I'll take care of everything. You focus on yourself, alright?"

"Thank you, Sister," I smiled, handing her a parchment. "I'll send letters once I'm able."

"Just don't get in trouble..." she said, her steely eyes holding mine.

I knew I could rely on her with this. She'd always had my back.

"And, and I'll take care of Mistfang for you!" Skye piped up. "It's spring now. I'll make sure she stretches her wings after all that sleeping.

Starscale's been eager to fly too."

"I appreciate that," I smiled and kissed her forehead, a prickle of guilt settling in my chest.

"We're proud of you, Raine," Father spoke up.

I turned and wrapped my arms around him. The wind tousled his dark hair, streaked with silver like the night sky brushed by lightning. He smelled of salt and leather, a familiar scent I had nearly forgotten.

As I pulled back, I noticed the tears glistening in his gray eyes.

"You….. You be good now, ey?" he murmured gruffly. "Take advantage of Thornmont's luxury and live a good life."

"I will, Father," I lied, the words tasting bitter.

I already knew that what awaited me in Sylvos' court was anything but luxury. Father had been naive believing in anything otherwise. He had always been soft like that.

I'll leave it in Claude's hands to convince him of my plans.

Next, my mother wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me in warmth. Unlike everyone else at Drakfjord, she carried the scent of flowers and pine

- an essence from her homeland that had clung to her despite living in Drakfjord most her life.

"We can never repay you for this," she murmured into my hair, her voice trembling.

When she pulled back, her light brown eyes shimmered with tragic beauty.

Though my sisters and I had inherited our father's defining features, dark hair and stormy eyes, we bore traces of our mother's grace - Skye most of all.

As I stepped back and basked in the vision of my family once more, my heart faltered. I wanted nothing more than to tell them what had happened to me. That I had died and come back. I knew they would believe me.

But the revelation would shatter our fragile peace.

They would never allow me to leave. And that would put Drakfjord, and our dragons, at grave risk. The thought of Sylvos' wrath sent a chill through me.

Our island's natural mist and jagged stony shores offered a formidable defense against attacks. And our dragons were powerful enough to deter any approaching ships if it came to it. Yet we were too small and too impoverished to afford the luxury of war.

Isolation from the rest of the world gave us peace.

Though with it, we were vulnerable.

In comparison, Thornmont could unleash an endless tide of resources and creatures upon us, waging a pointless conflict that we could never hope to endure.

I must leave.

But I will be back.

I had already given my life to Sylvos once. Now it was his turn.

"Take care of the dragons," I said as a farewell.

We might need them soon.

*****************

As this was my second voyage from Drakfjord to Thornmont, I was significantly less seasick. The hardest part was always tearing free from the grasp of our storm-lashed island. The ship groaned under the weight of each towering wave, as if the sea itself resented our departure.

In my first life, I was convinced we would sink.

But now, I knew better. The vessel would hold.

My quarters, though small, were opulent — a silent testament to Thornmont's wealth. I passed the long days by reading the volumes I brought along, cloistered in my cabin.

As my initial naive self, my books were filled with the fanciful tales of damsels and noble princes. But not this time. Now, my collection brimmed with strategies of war, histories soaked in blood, and the darker arts of rule.

If I was truly to tear down an empire, I needed to know which stones to shatter.

This, paired with my foresight of the next three years, would be my greatest advantage. I knew the battles Sylvos would wage, the creatures he would bind to his will, and the nations he would be most cautious of.

Knowledge was my shield, but I needed a blade.

If I could secure an ally, one with the strength to rival Thornmont, I could plant the seeds of Sylvos' ruin. I already knew exactly which kingdom would be perfect for this. Though the method in which to bind them to us didn't sit well with me...

A knock came at the door, sharp and unwelcome.

My face darkened.

"Princess, are you feeling any better?"

Sylvos.

The mere sound of his voice curdled my stomach - just enough to lend truth to my lie.

"Still nauseous," I rasped. "I fear I'll be confined here for the day."

"Again?" he asked from beyond the door, his voice skeptical. "Truly?"

I reached for the bucket nearby and feigned a lazy retch to make the act believable.

That seemed to satisfy him.

"I'll be in my quarters if you feel... better," he muttered, his tone uncertain as his footsteps faded into the creaking silence of the ship.

"Hmph."

I sank deeper into the plush folds of my bed, my nose once again buried in the pages of my book.

For the entire two weeks of the voyage, I maintained my charade. My encounters with the emperor were mercifully rare, reduced to a handful of awkward moments. By the time the ship anchored, and we disembarked, my limbs were stiff from the self-imposed isolation. The servants gathered my luggage and dressed me in another off-the-shoulder gown - this one a deep stormy gray like the cliffs of Stormgard.

My initial good mood soured the moment we approached the waiting carriage.

Sylvos stood there, his hand outstretched - mimicking the posture of a gentleman.

"My bride, we will ride for the capital."

I narrowed my eyes at both him and the carriage.

In my first life, he had chosen his steed over my company.

What had changed his mind this time?

Had my avoidance piqued his curiosity?

I glanced at the guards astride their horses, all of them waiting expectantly for me to take the emperor's hand. For a moment, I considered feigning sickness again but dismissed the idea.

Without bothering to mask my displeasure, I brushed past His Majesty and climbed into the carriage.

"Let us be off then," I said, settling into the seat.

Unease rippled through the servants, but Sylvos merely chuckled, the sound low and grating as he followed me in. He sat opposite me, legs crossed, his lips curled in a smile as he glanced at the dagger fastened to my hip. Raincatcher.

The emperor wore his usual leathers and armor, the sharp metallic edges glinting faintly in the dim light while his dark cape draped over his shoulders.

His crown sat unnaturally still atop his wavy hair, a rigid symbol of his rule.

As the coachman snapped the reins and the horses trotted forward, I whispered a silent prayer to whichever forgotten god had granted me this second life - begging for the ride to pass in silence.

Alas, this god seemed to loathe me.

"I feel I've nearly forgotten your face," Sylvos spoke.

"Strange," I replied, uninterested.

My head rested on my hand as I stared out the window, fully focused on the seaside town slipping past. Children's laughter echoed in the distance.

Fishermen hauled in their nets with rough hands.

And women bustled through the streets with baskets of laundry perched on their hips.

Towns that surrendered easily to the emperor retained their wealth and prosperity. While those that resisted... Well. I'd seen the destruction Sylvos left behind when he felt offended.

"I noticed your accent isn't as strong as your family's," he commented.

"Interesting," I murmured.

Silence.

"Have you visited Fayndor before?"

"No."

Silence again.

Sylvos shifted in his seat.

"We haven't gotten to know one another," he drawled on. "This union might take some... adjustment."

"As you say," I muttered, my attention fixed on the window - the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels far more appealing than his existence.

But my indifference must have pricked his pride.

He shifted closer, his cold hands suddenly clasping mine. I jolted at the touch, instinctively pressing myself further away. A dangerous glint flickered in his dark eyes.

"I might be mistaken," he said, his voice soft yet chilling, "but I sense you fear me."

As I held Sylvos' gaze, a cold tremor raced through my veins.

He saw right through me...

How could I have hoped otherwise?

"Though perhaps there's something else," he speculated further. "A hatred stemming from your fear. Like I had somehow deeply wronged you."

Death bells rang through me at how accurate he was.

"Of course I fear my ruler," I stammered, struggling to gather my composure. "You are... an imposing figure."

He shook his head slowly, a smile creeping across his lips.

"Out of my hundred concubines, you are the only one who trembles as if I might snuff out your life at any moment."

My breath caught in my throat.

Was I truly so transparent?

My chest throbbed as if Briarvex still lay embedded within me.

"Will you?" I dared to ask. "Kill me?"

He pondered the question, a teasing glint in his eyes. But knowing what I know, his playful demeanor was nothing short of terrifying.

"Only if you deserve it," he joked with a smirk.

My face hardened to stone.

"And what if I'm falsely accused?" I pressed.

He shrugged, a dismissive gesture that prickled the hairs on my neck.

"I am not so cruel as to punish someone without substantial evidence."

I almost scoffed at his claim.

Not yet, I wanted to say.

Taking in my silence, Sylvos leaned back into his seat with a tired sigh.

"I understand," he said, almost softly. "I am still a stranger to you. Someone who has whisked you away from your dear family. But perhaps, in time, you will come to love me and find comfort within my inner court."

I had loved you, I spat in my mind. And you killed me all the same.

"What about you?" I asked. "Have you come to love any of the women in your harem?"

I already knew the answer.

"I love my people," he said. "And I shall perform my duty as their ruler."

I knew what that last part meant. The monarchs of Thornmont had been cursed with infertility for as long as they ruled these lands. They'd court thousands of concubines in hopes of siring at least one heir.

Women that honored them with this blessing were crowned as empress and celebrated as though they were divinely chosen.

My heart sank.

Not for the first time, I wondered about what had happened after my death. Did my corpse rot upon the walls as Sylvos promised? Did he find himself another woman to sire him an heir?

I wished he remained childless.

I wished that well after my bones began to fall apart, he had come to learn of my innocence and realized his mistake. I wished it ate at him like the crows that picked apart my body. And that he had to live with that knowledge for the rest of his miserable life.

"I think I shall sleep while we travel," I replied, my voice cold and distant.

Anything to escape his presence, if only for a while.

"Very well, Princess."

It took far too long for my body to relax enough to drift into sleep. But even in slumber, there was no escape from him. Sylvos haunted me there as well.

Over and over, he drove his sword through my heart as the court's shrill laughter echoed around me.

The journey by carriage stretched on for four relentless weeks. We departed from Meadowwyn, one of the kingdoms Sylvos had already conquered and reduced to a province of his empire. The road wound through verdant fields and quiet valleys before leading us into the Crownland Province - the original territory Thornmont belonged to.

The landscape grew oppressive as we pressed deeper into his domain. Gnarled willow forests loomed on either side, while steep mountains closed in around us. The carriage jolted and creaked, each bump threatening to rattle me apart.

To salvage some semblance of peace, I came up with a clever ploy. I stayed awake when Sylvos rode outside and feigned slumber when we shared the carriage.

But this strategy proved its own torment.

In sleep, the nightmare of that day came.

And the worst of my dreams was not the violence.

It was something quieter, more serene.

I saw myself in a nursing room, cradling a silver-haired babe in my arms. His soft curls brushed against my fingers as I lovingly pushed them back, his stormy eyes the same as mine.

He's perfect, I thought. He would be good, just. He would be loved.

But first, I shall tear that unborn bastard from your corpse and feed it to the hounds.

I woke with a jolt, tears staining my cheeks.

Panicked, I frantically wiped my eyes, terrified of the emperor seeing me like this. But the carriage was empty and quiet, save for the steady clop of hooves outside. I glanced through the window. The sun had already begun its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape.

"You're awake,"

a voice called, unnervingly close.

I turned, heart racing.

Sylvos trotted alongside the carriage on his steed.

His head tilted just enough to catch a better glimpse of me.

"Unfortunately," I murmured.

Sylvos mistook my comment for humor, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"We've arrived at the capital. The fortress is just up ahead," he said.

I turned my head, unimpressed.

The city sprawled before me, a labyrinth of towering stone buildings, their chimneys belching smoke into the darkening sky. The road sloped upward toward the mountain, where the true crown of the empire perched.

Halfway up the pointed mountain, its towering walls loomed. Sharp spires jutted out from within, each one reaching higher with the central spire piercing the clouds themselves. Even from this distance, I could see the twisted vines of ancient magic coiling around the walls and towers, their thorns jutting out like cruel blades.

How many times had I watched Sylvos return from conquest to mount the heads of his enemies on those very spikes?

"Welcome to Dornhold Fortress, Princess," Sylvos said. "Our arrival is quite late. The servants will prepare you for the welcoming banquet."

The welcoming banquet... What a horrid affair.

"I look forward to it," I lied.

***************

As night had already fallen, the had servants rushed to get me ready.

I stood before the towering double doors that guarded the entrance to the banquet hall. Its steely patterns polished enough to show my reflection.

The walls of the corridor, carved from the dark gray stone of the surrounding mountains, loomed ominously. Twisted vines coiled around the pillars, their thorns jutting out dangerously.

Maids fussed over my gown, their hands trembling.

As per tradition, each new concubine's arrival was marked by a welcoming banquet. By the end of the night, the woman would be assigned her rank, sealing her fate within the emperor's harem.

For most, it would be the last night they spent with him before fading into obscurity among the lower ranks.

"Princess, are you certain about the dress?" one of the older maids asked cautiously. "You may not be familiar with our customs yet..."

"I'm sure," I replied.

I knew the eyes behind those doors were eagerly awaiting the color of my gown.

Technically, any hue besides white could be worn by an unranked concubine. Once her position was assigned, her garments would reflect her position.

Most women chose colors that straddled the middle ground, while others simply wore what suited them best.

In my first life, I had naively donned black at my banquet. That shade was reserved for the three highest ranked concubines. The Nightshades. As the only concubine to hold the title of Princess, I thought it would be a given.

Yet that night, I was named Clover.

The lowest rank.

It was a position reserved for the bottom twenty concubines. So insultingly low that we had to wear green. The same color of servants and sentries.

The doors creaked open, and I straightened. I could feel Raincatcher strapped to my thigh beneath my gown - a small comfort.

"Introducing Princess Raine Stjorme of Drakfjord," a bellowing voice sang from within.

Holding my chin high, I stepped into the hall.

And as I did, silence fell.