The carriage doors opened with a soft creak, but to Seraya, it sounded like the gates of a dungeon. She didn't move at first. The world outside felt unreal, dreamlike—too bright, too loud, too alive for what she had just lost.
"Lady Seraya," said one of the guards, voice low and impassive. "We've arrived."
Not 'Princess Seraya' anymore.
She never cared about titles, but it was a reminder of the life she had lost.
She stepped out, legs stiff and eyes burning. The palace loomed before her like a monolith—massive, glittering, alive with opulence and silent judgment. Her own home had been noble and beautiful, carved from generations of care. But this… this was a statement. A fortress built not for comfort but to dazzle, to overwhelm, to conquer.
Sprawling archways shimmered with arcane runes. Light floated unnaturally across polished floors. The scent of exotic incense curled in the air, each breath heavy with unfamiliar magic. The walls themselves pulsed faintly with power—his power. This wasn't just a palace.
It was a throne carved from a thousand shattered kingdoms.
She understood now why they called him the Conqueror. The spoils of war lined the halls. Rare paintings, relics from cultures long subdued, silks not woven in this realm, enchanted chandeliers that drifted midair. Her home—what was left of it—had been devoured and absorbed into this grotesque display of dominance.
Her fists clenched. She would survive. But she would never belong.
They led her deeper into the palace. Through guarded corridors and whispering servants until they arrived at a towering bronze door. Two women flanked it, heads bowed. One of them opened the door wordlessly.
"This is the Hall of the Divine Beauty, where the concubines reside," the guard said. "Lady Maetra will see to your orientation."
Orientation? As if this were just some standard procedure.
Inside, the air changed. Warmer, perfumed, quieter. Cushions, curtains, lounging divans—an indulgent prison of velvet and roses. Women milled about in silks and jewels, all beautiful in carefully crafted ways. Some eyed Seraya with curiosity. Others didn't bother hiding their disdain.
And then she appeared.
A shapely woman, older, elegant but appraising, strode forward. Her gown was rich burgundy, her dark hair threaded with silver and gold. Her eyes took Seraya in from head to toe like a butcher assessing meat.
"You're the new one," she said. "I am Matron Miriam, keeper of His Majesty's harem."
Seraya didn't respond.
"You'll need to lose that look," Miriam added coolly. "The one that says you still believe yourself above all this. You're not."
Seraya's jaw locked.
Miriam clicked her tongue. "He brings in many. Some wilt. Others adapt. A few… thrive. But don't mistake your survival for favor. His Majesty does not keep you out of mercy. He keeps what intrigues him."
"And if I don't want to be kept?" Seraya asked, voice sharp, barely controlled.
Miriam smiled, thin and dangerous. "Then you'll die slowly. Not by blade, but by irrelevance. No one cares for an unloved concubine."
She spoke with bitterness and a knowing that can only come from experience. That's when Seraya noticed a small scar on Miriam's right cheek. Would that have been enough to mar her beauty, make her irrelevant? Seraya's thoughts started to spiral as she wondered if it was an accident or had it been intentional?
Miriam's eyes narrowed, as Seraya glanced away from her scar.
She stepped closer, as if to assert her dominance again. "You are now property of the realm. His realm. Everything here hums with his will—every enchanted door, every torch that burns cold, every breath of air. You walk in a world shaped by a god."
Her voice softened then, reverent. "He is brilliance and terror woven together. The sun cannot outshine him. You will learn to worship him like the rest of us."
Seraya met her gaze without flinching. "Or I'll burn from standing too close."
Miriam actually laughed. "Ah. Fire, then. We'll see how long it lasts."
She turned and gestured to one of the younger women. "Show her to her room. She'll be inspected before the evening bell. Make sure she's made presentable."
As she was led away, Seraya cast one last look at the glittering corridor.
Her kingdom was ash. Her freedom gone.
And now, she walked into the belly of the beast.