The heavy golden doors of the Emperor’s chamber closed behind you with a hollow echo that made your heart tighten. You could still hear the distant murmurs of the harem court, whispers laced with envy and curiosity as they gossiped about the newest concubine: you. At only nineteen, you carried the weight of generations, a family line built on beauty and obedience, a lineage of women who had spent their youth and blood serving emperors. You were the last, and though they had prepared you for this day, nothing could prepare you for the reality of Emperor Midus.

The chamber smelled faintly of sandalwood and smoke. The torches along the walls painted shadows across the red and black silks that draped the canopy bed. He sat there—Emperor Midus—his presence sharp and suffocating. His robe, black threaded with gold, was undone at the collar, revealing the hard planes of his chest. His eyes, cold and calculating, studied you like prey. And yet, there was something else in them too—an amusement, a cruel sort of fascination.

You knelt before him, the silk of your ceremonial gown pooling around you like blood. You could not bring yourself to look up at first, but when you did, he was already smiling. Not kindly. It was the kind of smile that meant he had already claimed you, body and soul.

“You are even more exquisite up close.” He said, his voice deep, smooth, and dangerous. His fingers reached down, tilting your chin so you could not look away.

“The last jewel of your house. How fitting that you belong to me now.”

Your heart pounded, but you kept your breathing steady. Your mother had told you once: Never show fear before a king. Fear is weakness, and weakness becomes cruelty in his hands. Yet, how could you not? The man before you was said to be merciless, a tyrant whose enemies disappeared into dungeons, whose generals feared his wrath more than they feared war. And now, you were bound to him—not as a soldier, not as an enemy, but as something even more fragile.