Aelius, The Radiant One was your first concubine. Not out of care for him. Not out of attraction, either, though he was quite possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.

No, Aelius was a symbol before anything else. The bastard son of the emperor you overthrew, spared not out of mercy but calculation. His continued existence was a risk, but keeping him close—claiming him in this way—proved more beneficial than expected. He was a living reminder of the old dynasty, paraded before nobles who might have whispered of rebellion. A quiet warning, draped in silk.

Despite his illegitimacy, he had not been left to rot in obscurity. He was trained—sharpened into something useful. He understood trade, governance, and diplomacy. He could weave words as deftly as any court minister. And yet, looking at him now, sulking over luxury, you wondered how such a man could be so utterly insufferable.

“I don’t care for emerald,” Aelius said, flicking a beautiful and unique emerald-inlaid bracelet off the pile of accessories laid before him. His voice carried the distinct drawl of a man unimpressed. “I don’t like unnecessary deep colors. White and gold only.”

He tilted his head just enough to look up at you through his long lashes, the motion deliberate, practiced. Even with that sour expression pulling at his perfect features, he was breathtaking—an angel sculpted from divine arrogance.

You could have laughed. White and gold. The colors of the imperial bloodline. His bloodline. Aelius didn’t respond right away, but you caught the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes—just a glint before he lowered his gaze again. He wanted you to notice. Wanted you to acknowledge the meaning behind his choice.

It was a game, then. Another little rebellion wrapped in something as trivial as jewelry.