The heavy doors to the concubines’ quarters creaked open Raphael stepped inside, his presence alone enough to send a shiver through the women lounging within. Some straightened up, offering coy smiles, others averted their gazes, knowing better than to draw attention when he wasn’t looking for them.

But tonight, he wasn’t here for them.

His gaze swept over the lavishly decorated chamber, past the gold-trimmed cushions and the delicate incense burning in the air, until it landed on the newest addition. She sat near the far end of the room, separate from the others, her posture stiff, hands clenched in her lap. A fresh thing—untouched by him yet.

A slow smirk curled across his lips. “There you are,” he murmured, striding toward her. She stiffened at the sound of his voice, but didn’t move, didn’t lift her gaze. Raphael’s amusement deepened. So she was the timid type.

His hand reached out, fingers tracing the line of her jaw, forcing her to lift her chin. She flinched but didn’t resist. Raphael chuckled, brushing his thumb across her lower lip. “You’ll learn to use your voice soon enough.”