✦✦✦

【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

"Good evening, Your Majesty," I said through gritted teeth, curtsying low enough to hide the disdain on my face.

"Good evening, Princess," Sylvos replied, as if sharing a private joke.

I held the curtsy, hoping he'd move on. But as the seconds crawled by, he remained fixed. When it became clear he wasn't going anywhere, I straightened, feeling every gaze in the courtyard upon us.

Dornhold's fortress was as large as most cities. Decorated with waterfalls and twisted vines, its winding roads threaded through offices and bridged out toward the eight castles where the concubines lived. Now, those roads and walkways stilled. Misters, guards, and even concubines pausing to witness our exchange.

"Well, I'll be off then," I muttered, clearing my throat before turning to leave.

"Did you visit the Seneschal to petition for a promotion?" Sylvos teased.

My steps hesitated, but I kept my head high, intent on reaching Clover Castle.

"No," I replied curtly.

A rough hand seized my arm, spinning me back toward the emperor.

"You will face His Majesty when he addresses you!" the guard snarled, the steel in his armed glove biting into my skin.

I wrenched my arm free, meeting his hardened stare with a glare of my own. His armor, wrought in dark steel, bore thorned engravings, though no cape to mark him as a knight. A common sentry then.

"I suggest you stand down," I warned.

His face twisted in cruel satisfaction.

"You shall show proper—"

"Do you think you can touch what belongs to me?"

Both the guard and I turned toward Sylvos with surprise.

The emperor's cold black eyes fixed on the guard and a shiver brushed over my skin. These were the eyes that haunted my final moments...

This was the true face of the tyrant I came to know.

"Your Majesty," the guard stammered. "I only meant to—"

"I do not care for your intent," Sylvos interrupted icily, signaling for another guard behind him. "My wyrm has not eaten in some time. See that it receives its dinner."

The condemned guard's face paled, and he began to struggle, his pleas turning frantic as they dragged him away.

"Your Majesty! Please! I didn't mean—"

"That's too harsh," I protested. "He meant no harm."

Sylvos' smile was sharp and unfeeling.

"You may not understand the workings of my inner court, Princess," he replied, "but I allow my brides to walk freely among ministers and guards because each man here knows his life is forfeit if he dares to touch any of you."

I already knew the rule.

I had seen hundreds of men executed for the smallest of offences. Yet the thought still churned my stomach. My hand itched to reach for Raincatcher, to plunge it into the root cause of my torment. But I held back. With my jaw tight, I turned away and resumed my path to Clover Castle.

Sylvos' footsteps echoed close behind.

"Perhaps you'd care to join me for dinner, Princess," he called smoothly.

"I'd rather join the wyrm," I grumbled.

His laughter followed.

"I could grant you your wish, if you so insist."

I kept walking, but Sylvos' strides were longer, unhindered by the weight of a gown like my own. He easily caught up, his presence as unsettling as the thought of the vylnir.

"Are you truly refusing your sovereign's invitation to dinner?" His voice held an edge of amusement. "Most ladies would kill for such an offer."

A sidelong glance confirmed the truth in his words. Every concubine we passed glowered at me as if plotting to hurl me over the cliffside.

"I already have a stew simmering," I replied, feigning indifference. "If I don't return soon, it might burn."

Sylvos' dark brows arched.

"I've never known a noble who can cook."

"I had to learn," I said shortly.

"Is Drakfjord that impoverished?" he mused. "Fear not, we'll compensate your kingdom well for the gem trade."

Although his condescension stung, his assessment was wrong. I never learned cooking from Drakfjord, though my sisters and I often visited the kitchens out of curiosity. No, I learned to cook here, in my first life. And it took a long while before anything I made was good enough to stomach.

Ignoring my silence, Sylvos continued, his tone casual as though we were old friends.

"So, tell me, why did you visit the Seneschal?"

My jaw clenched.

"To petition for the windows in Clover Castle to be replaced," I replied. "For all your boasting of Thornmont's wealth, you can't even afford decent upkeep for your own brides?"

"If I gave all my brides what they wanted, I'd starve my empire," he chuckled.

"Perhaps the problem would solve itself with fewer brides," I retorted.

"Then will you take responsibility?"

Sylvos stepped in front of me, blocking my path. Draped in the setting sun, his dark eyes gleamed as if everything was one of his private jokes. Guards and servants halted as well.

"If I dismissed the others, would you take on all their duties yourself?" he murmured, his gaze drifting to my lips.

A hot memory burned beneath my skin, unwelcome.

Sylvos had always been... excessive in his desires.

Ignoring the implication, I stepped past him.

"Isolde will manage just fine."

He laughed again, falling into pace once more.

"And why are you so invested in Clover Castle's repairs? Do you intend to linger there, or did you not claim to rise to the top of my harem?"

"Just because I'll leave doesn't mean those who remain deserve to live in disrepair."

"Oh? How compassionate of you. I've rarely heard anyone so concerned about my brides."

I let his words drift off with the breeze. Ahead, the bridge came into view, draped in the deep reds of sunset. The nearby waterfall shimmered, catching the waning light in hues of blood and amber.

"So, do you plan to seek a promotion during the Royal Hunt?" he asked as we neared the bridge. "It's still two months away. I wonder how long you'll resist the Seneschal's office before then."

A curse slipped under my breath at the memory.

The Royal Hunt — one of many nightmares during my first life. Before the emperor set off for his hunt, each concubine was allowed to present a handkerchief. It was a chance for ladies to flaunt their embroidery skills, earning a promotion if the emperor accepted their offer.

Unfortunately for me, Drakfjord never taught their princesses any embroidery. My sisters and I had no use for such arts. Our hands were trained in dragon reins, not needlework.

"If I'm in the mood, I might give it a go," I said with a shrug.

In truth, I did need the promotion. There were only eight months left until I needed to reach Lavender rank. It had taken me a year in my first life. Which meant that this time, I needed to succeed at every opportunity.

Even if it meant bleeding my fingers to master a skill that I had no love for.

Hopefully by the time the Royal Hunt came, I had managed to free the vylnir...

Or die trying.

"Perhaps I can get you in the mood," Sylvos teased, tilting his head to catch a glimpse of my face.

I focused on the sensation of my nails digging into my palms, anything to ignore the heat creeping up my neck.

"They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, Your Majesty," I replied icily. "Perhaps the less I see your face, the more I'll come to love it."

He chuckled, that unburdened sound so unlike what he'd shown at the end of my life.

"You're a strange one, Princess. At times you seem older than you look."

I left the comment unanswered.

By the time we reached Clover Castle, the two guards at the entrance stiffened at the sight of their sovereign's unexpected arrival. I turned to Sylvos, forcing a polite smile.

"Thank you for accompanying me," I said mockingly. "Unless you plan to entertain the rest of the ladies of Clover, I'll be on my way."

I gave a quick curtsy and turned.

"I look forward to seeing what you'll present at the hunt, Princess," he called after me. "And if you find yourself growing desperate, you could always try to... persuade me in other ways."

My steps stiffened as I walked through the castle doors, barely resisting the urge to slam them behind me. Only once they closed did I let myself sway, one hand clutching the wall for support.

"Damn it," I muttered, throwing a weak fist against the stone.

"Tough day?"

I shot a glare at the dagger hanging at my hip. Though I couldn't see Ryn's face from this angle, I could practically feel his smirk.

"He reduced a guard to wyrm dinner just for touching me," I vented. "Every second I'm near him, I want to slit his throat."

"You tried that once," Ryn said. "He blocked it easily and skewered you instead."

I slammed my fist against the wall again. I knew I couldn't beat him — not in combat. I'd watched seasoned assassins fall under his blade. But how much longer could I bear his company before I snapped?

"Do you think I could learn combat?" I asked, unfastening Raincatcher and studying its gleaming edge. Ryn leaned against a cracked window nearby, picking at his sharp nails.

"You've never found an instructor in any life."

"Yes, but... if I did find one, do you think I could train enough to kill him?"

Ryn considered it before finally shaking his head.

"He's been training his whole life. He's bigger, stronger, and he has Briarvex. You couldn't hope to beat him in open combat unless you had a cursed sword of your own."

I dropped my head, feeling a dark lock of hair spill over my shoulder. I knew he was right... But even if I got my hands on my father's storm sword, it was far too heavy for me to wield properly.

With nothing more to add, I checked on the rabbit stew. Despite the scarce ingredients, it turned out savory, with a hearty broth and tender meat.

Finding an abandoned tray cart, I loaded the stew pot, wheeling it to the dining hall. Like the drawing room, this chamber had managed to evade complete decay, though the lingering shadows made the place feel haunted.

I set the pot on the great willowwood table and arranged the plates and utensils I'd washed earlier. For a final touch, I ventured into the overgrown gardens surrounding the castle and gathered wild roses, placing them in a cracked vase at the table's center.

Satisfied, I returned to the drawing room.

"Dinner is ready," I announced.

The ladies barely glanced up, eyes skeptical.

"Didn't we say we don't need your grub?" Lady Virella sneered.

I shrugged.

"It's up to you. I'll be eating," I said, and left.

For a while, I ate alone, savoring the warmth of the stew.

When I was nearly done, a figure tentatively stepped into the hall. A young woman with mousy hair. Her thin face looked uncertain as she took in the scene, clearly hoping I'd be gone by now. She hesitated, ready to retreat, but I waved her over with a smile.

"Come, you're welcome to as much as you want," I offered. "I won't expect favors in return."

Her brow furrowed, but slowly she approached, pouring herself a bowl. She took a cautious bite, and her eyes lit up.

"You made this?"

I nodded, touched by her sincere enjoyment.

"A skill from another life," I joked.

"It's... really good!"

She eagerly helped herself to seconds, spooning the stew with a hunger that tugged at my heart. Her arms were bony, her skin sallow.

"What's your name?" I asked, unable to recall her from my first life.

"Talia Fernvale," she replied with a soft voice. "My father was a high lord in Flynmoore. Before the emperor conquered our kingdom..."

Her gaze drifted, bleak eyes darkening.

"I see... My condolences, then," I murmured.

She looked up, a hint of gratitude in her eyes.

✦✦✦

Almost a week had passed since my arrival at Clover Castle. My days had been spent cleaning and struggling through the twisted syllables of High Elvish. By now, my chambers, the kitchen, courtyard, dining hall, and even the privy were spotless. A minor triumph in this decaying stronghold.

Yet my progress with the language was still embarrassingly slow.

"Try again," Ryn sighed from my hip. "How are you still stumbling over one sentence?"

I glared as I made my way to the bathing chamber.

"It's my first sentence. Give me a break."

"You'll need several memorized before meeting the vylnir. At this rate, that'll take a year."

My shoulders sagged.

He was right.

I needed this finished by the Royal Hunt in two months, but that didn't make the task any less grueling.

Taking a deep breath, I tried again.

"I ɯαɳƚ tờ ʂҽƚ yờu fuh-ręe."

Ryn groaned.

"Almost. But say the last part like it's tucked beneath your tongue."

Mouthing the words, I practiced tracing the unfamiliar shapes with my tongue. I reached the bathing chamber and set my bucket down. Leaving Raincatcher by the massive stone bath, I began clearing the ivy and vines strangling the walls. Brooming the floor, I swept the dust toward the broken wall-length windows, letting it scatter down the cliff face beyond.

"I ɯαɳƚ ƚσ ʂҽƚ ყσυ ϝɾҽҽ," I tried again.

Before the elf could even respond, I grinned triumphantly.

"Finally!" Ryn cried, looking ready to pull his hair out.

"You celebrate like it's your life on the line," I teased.

The elf wasn't smiling with me this time.

"Do you think it's easy watching you die over and over? Trying to help with nothing to show for it?" he asked with a deep blue setting into his eyes. "Forgetting your death is a mercy."

My eyes widened.

Ryn rarely let any weariness show.

Sensing he needed space, I went back to work, scrubbing the bathing chamber to a gleaming finish. Since I still hadn't received word on the window repairs, I smashed the broken panes and hung curtains I'd washed the day before. As they fluttered, I imagined myself back home, gazing at a horizon dotted with dragons.

The more I worked, the easier it got to forget everything I was leaving behind.

After chipping rust from a lever, I finally coaxed the plumbing to life. Water surged from the ceiling, filling the stone bath. I gathered wood from the cellar, lighting fires in the small stone pockets around the tub. The room flickered with a warm glow, though it would take time for the bath to heat properly.

By nightfall, it was ready.

Hands on my hips, I admired my work, exhaustion giving way to a touch of pride.

"You'll leave me somewhere with a good view, won't you, Rainey?"

I scowled down at the dagger, though I couldn't help but smile at the elf joking again.

"Keep perving, and I'll throw you out the window."

"Please, no..."

In high spirits, I strode toward the dining hall where I'd already served dinner. By now, nearly half of Clover joined me for meals. The rest clung to Lady Virella's scraps.

"I heard His Majesty will set off for battle," one lady commented.

"The rebellions in Flynmoore Province have grown too frequent," another added.

I stopped before the women, their chatter quieting at my arrival.

"Ladies, I need a favor," I announced.

Their wary gazes suggested they'd been dreading this moment.

"W-what can we help with?" Lady Talia asked. "You've given us three meals a day. We'd be happy to help. Do you wish for us to compliment you in front of the Chamberlain?"

I wrinkled my nose at the thought.

"No, nothing like that. I need bath oils. Does anyone know where they're kept?"

A murmur swept through the group, but before anyone could answer, a voice grabbed everyone's attention.

"I have some."

The room turned to where Lady Virella appeared at the door, arms crossed. Her gold-embellished green gown glinted in the candlelight, complimenting her dark blonde locks.

"What do you need them for?" she asked icily.

I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips. Her pride kept her from joining us, and I had to admire her for clinging to it.

"Let me show you," I said.

No words could capture the pure joy that illuminated everyone's faces at the sight of the bathing chamber. Steam rose from the water, mingling with the flickering glow of coals nestled within the stone pockets that surrounded the large pool.

"How did you manage this?" Lady Virella asked, her icy demeanor thawing.

Most ladies of Clover likely resorted to a bucket for cleaning. I knew this was exactly what they all needed.

"It took a while," I replied, rubbing the tension from my neck. "But we deserve this much, don't we?"

Tears glistened in the women's eyes as they gushed their thanks and appreciation. I quickly urged them not to make too grand a deal out of it.

"What's the price?" Lady Virella asked, green eyes narrowing.

I shook my head.

"I have two sisters back home, and I miss them dearly," I confessed. "All I truly want is some good company."

A new wave of gratitude rippled through the women.

Even Lady Virella's scowl softened into a reluctant smile.

"We'll teach you embroidery," she said suddenly.

My eyes widened at the unexpected gesture.

"How... did you know...?"

"Oh, it's painfully obvious you can't stitch," she waved me off dismissively. "I've seen the way you look at our needlework. So, don't worry about the Royal Hunt. Everyone here will pitch in to teach you embroidery. Isn't that right?"

"Of course!" they all chimed in; their enthusiasm infectious.

The warmth of their unexpected kindness stung the back of my eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Perhaps this life truly is different...

✦✦✦