© All rights reserved for The King's Bride. The plot and characters are ORIGINAL and all MY OWN WORK. These are the products of my imagination and countless hours spent writing. Please do not copy/ reproduce in any way.

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CHAPTER 13 - DIRECT TARGET

The path to the Imperial Gardens shimmered in the late morning light, the stone walkway veined with gold and crushed opal, casting reflections like shallow water beneath their feet. Althea walked in silence, her steps light but her thoughts heavy.

Rania trailed a little behind her, unusually quiet, as if sensing that Althea's mind was far from the sun-drenched trees ahead.

And it was.

She couldn't stop thinking about him.

The Emperor.

Last night had left her reeling. Not just because of the heat of his body pressed to hers, or the way his mouth had ravaged hers like he wanted to devour her whole—but because of what didn't happen. He had pulled away. Again.

He always pulled away.

One moment he burned for her, the next he vanished like smoke. She didn't understand him. And she hated not understanding.

She'd felt his jealousy. His need to dominate. His rage when others looked at her. He had come to her in the middle of the night, his body trembling with restraint, and she had seen the war waging behind those golden eyes.

And yet he left.

Althea wrapped her arms around herself, exhaling through her nose.

He desired her. She didn't doubt that anymore. But desire wasn't enough in a place like this. Desire could be a fleeting thing—a dangerous spark that burned you to ash if you weren't careful.

She needed more.

She needed his favor. His protection. His heart.

Because without it, she was just a target. A mortal with no noble name, no magic in her blood, no court behind her.

She had seen the way the other concubines looked at her. She could feel their envy growing, sharpening into something more dangerous. A single misstep and they would pounce—and this time, no lesson from Lady Siofra or tea ceremony would save her.

"You're awfully quiet today, Princess," Rania said softly beside her, interrupting her thoughts. "Did you sleep well?"

Althea gave her a tight smile. "As well as one can."

Rania raised a brow but didn't press.

They walked for a few more paces before Althea finally murmured, "He wants me."

Rania blinked. "The Emperor?"

Althea nodded, gaze distant. "But he doesn't want to want me."

Rania made a small sound of surprise. "That's... complicated."

"It is," Althea whispered. "And dangerous."

She looked ahead, where the trees of the Imperial Gardens came into view—silver-leafed willows, floating blossoms, and the faint sound of voices echoing in the distance. The other concubines had already begun to gather.

"I can't rely on him to protect me, Rania," Althea continued. "Not yet. Not when he's still unsure of me."

"So what will you do?"

Althea's lips tightened into a determined line. "Make him sure."

Rania stopped briefly, eyes wide. "How?"

Althea didn't answer. Because the truth was—she didn't know. Not yet. But she would find a way because she had no other choice.

And if she had to outsmart courtiers, endure cruelty, and play this deadly game in silence, she would. If she had to make herself unforgettable—if she had to claim a place in the Emperor's thoughts so deep he couldn't banish her no matter how hard he tried—then so be it.

Survival was no longer enough.

She wanted to win.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

The sun was soft overhead, filtering through the flowering canopies of the Imperial Gardens. Tables had been set under weeping cherry trees, and servants moved quietly between silk cushions and low tea trays, filling porcelain cups with jasmine-steeped water. Across the clearing, tall straw targets had been erected—meant for leisurely archery practice.

It was meant to be a peaceful morning.

Althea, as always, kept to the edge.

She poured her own tea without waiting for the servants and settled quietly into the cushions, grateful for the distance. The other concubines preened and laughed nearby, their voices a flurry of giggles and rivalries disguised as idle chatter.

Until Sylphera's voice rang clear above them all.

"Why are you sitting, Lady Althea?" she asked sweetly. "Surely you didn't come to the gardens just to hide."

Althea turned her head slowly. "It's a beautiful day to sip tea and lounge," she replied with a smile.

Sylphera smiled. "It's a beautiful day for some competition."

She strolled forward, emerald silk swishing around her ankles. A bow was slung across her shoulder. She plucked an arrow from the quiver of a nearby guard.

"I think it's time we had a little fun," she said. "Wouldn't you all agree?"

A chorus of agreement followed.

Sylphera gestured toward the targets. "Lady Althea, do you want to play?" Sylphera asked in a sweet tone that dripped with venom.

Internally, Althea groaned. She really just wanted to sip tea and think. Begrudgingly, she stood up. She went to the table that held different kinds of bows and arrows and began to reach for one.

"That won't be necessary," Sylphera said.

"What do you mean?

"You'll be helping me today. But don't worry, you won't be holding the bow." She turned to the others, voice dripping with mock innocence. "She'll be the target."

Gasps and giggles followed.

Before Althea could speak, two of Sylphera's handmaidens took her by the arms and gently, but firmly, steered her to one of the archery posts. Sylphera placed an orange on the flat crown of Althea's head and stepped back.

"Now hold still," she said with a grin. "Wouldn't want to lose an eye."

"You're out of your mind," Althea said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh? It's just a game."

"This is hardly a game," came another voice—soft, yet clear.

The crowd quieted. Althea turned slightly to see who spoke up for her. This concubine's skin was golden, her hair braided with white blossoms, and her aura was calm, almost luminous.

"Stay out of this, Solenne," Sylphera commanded. At hearing the name, Althea remembered. It was Princess Solenne of the Light Court. She was the same concubine that spoke up for her that night they were all first gathered for the ceremony. It was the night she first traveled to Aetheria to be the Emperor's concubine.

"This isn't a sport," Solenne said. "We are sisters in title, if not in spirit. We shouldn't treat one another as targets."

Sylphera scoffed. "You would defend a mortal. Of course."

Another concubine laughed. "The Light Court always did favor charity."

Solenne's expression remained unchanged. "And what does that say about the rest of you?"

Sylphera's lips curled into a smile. "Don't be sanctimonious, Solenne. We all know you bought your way into this palace. Money doesn't make you noble or righteous."

A cruel chorus of laughter followed. Althea said nothing. Her eyes met Solenne's briefly—a silent thank-you.

Sylphera lifted the bow.

"Ready?" she asked, eyes gleaming.

Althea's heartbeat thundered. If she moved now—she'd be punished again. If she stayed—she could die. Either way, it would be her loss.

Her fingers curled. Her body tensed.

And then—

"Announcing His Imperial Majesty."

The voice was clear. Loud.

Every concubine dropped to their knees instantly.

Sylphera froze, bow half-raised, her hand trembling slightly as she lowered the weapon. For a moment, it seemed she was stunned and then she remembered herself and dropped to her knees.

Emperor Soren descended the marble steps leading into the gardens. He wore his usual black robes embroidered with golden thread, his crown absent, but his presence overwhelming. His eyes passed over them once—and lingered only briefly on Althea, still standing, still with the orange balanced on her head.

At his glance, Sylphera's maids let go of Althea and fell to her knees. Althea followed suit and also knelt before the Emperor.

Sylphera bent her frame into a bow that was not at all graceful. "Your Majesty, forgive us. We were only—"

"Practicing?" Soren said mildly. "With another concubine as the target?"

The silence was deafening. Soren's golden eyes swept across the garden. Then, his lips curved—just slightly.

Althea's heart started beating faster. Is this the moment where he saves her? Where he finally punishes Sylphera for her treachery?

"Practicing in the gardens must be tiresome," he said. "Perhaps it's time for something more exciting."

Althea's heart fell. She watched as the Emperor looked out toward the edge of the gardens and didn't even glance at her.

"There will be a royal hunt outside the palace walls tomorrow," he said. "All who wish to join may do so. Show me your talents... where the stakes are real."

The concubines murmured in surprise.

Althea bowed at last, relief and unease crashing together in her chest. But at the same time, disappointment rose. The Emperor managed to deflect the situation without showing favor.

It was the perfect response.

And yet, something in her wished for a different outcome– one where he walked towards her, removed the orange from her head and placed it on Sylphera's. Let her reap what she sowed.

The Emperor said nothing more. He turned and disappeared into the shadows between columns, leaving behind silence, confusion—

—and a mortal girl still standing with fire and disappointment in her blood.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

True to his word, the next day, the Emperor and his entire entourage waited by the castle gates. The concubines and their maids were summoned from the Palace of Concubines and escorted towards the large gates.

Without wasting time, the concubines entered their own carriages with their maids while their mounts were escorted by servants. Then, they were off in one big, grand procession.

The Emperor's elite soldiers are in the front and back of the line as well as scattered on the sides patrolling. Generals and their lieutenants ride after the elite guard and then followed by the carriages of the concubines. Behind the concubines are palace servants in large carriages and carts loaded with tents, food, and everything needed for a 2-day excursion.

"I'm so excited to finally be out, Princess! Look! There's so much to see!" Rania said excitedly as she looked out the window.

Althea looked out the other side and watched the trees, rolling hills, the flowers, plants and creatures that are not found in her world. They made Aetheria beautiful and something straight out of a fairytale.

"It is beautiful," Althea responded.

"What's our plan for this hunt, Princess?" Rania asked.

Althea sighed. "It's rare for us to be out of the palace. This time, you really must be on your guard, Rania. Sylphera was humiliated in front of the Emperor yesterday so she must be seething."

Rania nodded. "I will be more vigilant," she responded.

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They finally arrived at the hunting grounds and disembarked from their carriages.

Althea was led to her mount, a white stallion that was taller than any other horse she's seen at Leria. At first, Althea was a bit intimidated but as she approached the creature, she realized how docile it was.

She mounted her new horse and fell back in line with those that were joining the hunt. And while they prepared, the servants were already busy setting up the camping grounds. Tents were being erected, tables placed outside, water being transported from the nearby stream, and so much more.

Shortly after, the procession of the hunting party began to move. They were headed deeper into the forest – one that was alive with magic.

Dappled sunlight filtered through golden leaves, and the scent of moss and blooming duskvine filled the air. Fae riders galloped in elegant formation, their cloaks trailing behind them like banners. Laughter echoed in bursts, arrows flew true, and the hunt began.

Althea's horse moved at a steady pace. She kept her distance, as always, staying near the back, away from the jostling chatter of the other concubines. Her back still throbbed faintly from the lashings beneath her sleeve, but she showed nothing.

Her eyes were alert, her bow across her back.

The Emperor rode in front and he turned back for a moment and their eyes met. Althea blushed and quickly looked away.

From atop his black steed, the Emperor surveyed the hunt like a silent warden, golden gaze flicking toward her again and again. Elion, riding beside him, finally leaned in.

"If I can see it, Your Majesty," Elion said, voice dry, "then soon, so will the others."

Soren didn't reply.

But further back, Sylphera noticed. Her green eyes narrowed.

She nudged her horse closer to Lady Thessia. "Did you see the way he keeps looking at her?" she hissed, low and sharp. "Like she's something worth protecting."

Thessia lifted an eyebrow. "He hasn't even touched her."

"Yet," Sylphera replied darkly. "Which is why we're going to end this. Today."

She turned her head, nodding discreetly at a woman riding farther behind—a quiet concubine with midnight hair and an unassuming presence. Seliora, her ally from the Dark Court.

Seliora guided her mount forward and passed Sylphera a small glass vial—filled with shimmering, amber liquid.

"The scent is subtle," she whispered. "Only the beasts will notice."

Sylphera took the vial and palmed it with care.

She caught up to Althea easily, smiling sweetly. "You're quiet today," she said.

Althea offered a nod. "It's a hunt. Not a banquet."

"True," Sylphera said. "But what's the fun of hunting alone?"

Before Althea could answer, Sylphera uncorked the vial with a slight twist and, under the pretense of adjusting Althea's collar, brushed the enchanted liquid across the hem of her cloak.

It was done.

They rode on.

But Sylphera hadn't expected Soren to keep glancing back, hadn't expected him to slow his mount as though sensing something amiss.

The beasts came not long after.

A rustle in the brush. A low growl. Then two direcats—creatures the size of small horses with shadowy fur and glowing red eyes—emerged from the undergrowth, drawn by the scent only they could smell.

Althea's horse bucked and reared. She clung to the reins, trying to calm the beast, but the direcats advanced.

From the slope above, Soren's eyes narrowed. Sylphera was too close to Althea. Too poised.

She's pretending, he realized.

Sylphera screamed—too perfectly—and threw herself to the ground just as one of the direcats lunged.

Althea twisted, slashing with her dagger, catching the creature just beneath its eye. It snarled and lashed back, claws raking across her arm.

Blood bloomed through her sleeve.

"Sylphera!" someone shouted. "She's been injured!"

It was a lie.

Sylphera crumpled to the ground, perfectly staged, gasping as if struck.

From atop the hill, Soren saw it all—and saw who was watching. Sylphera's father. High generals. Nobles from the Winter Court.

He cursed beneath his breath and kicked his horse forward.

He couldn't go to Althea.

Not now. Not in front of them.

So he rode to Sylphera, dismounted, and lifted her from the grass with a single arm. "Get her to the healers," he barked, handing her off to one of the guards. "Now."

Sylphera whimpered faintly, curling into him. Althea, still bleeding, still standing, was alone.

Until a tall figure dismounted and moved toward her.

"Are you all right, my lady?" a voice asked—young, smooth, kind.

She looked up.

A man—barely older than herself, with warm bronze eyes and tousled golden hair—knelt before her. He pressed two fingers to her wound, and magic flared against her skin. Healing light pooled gently under his touch.

"You fought bravely," he said with a smile. "Your technique is impressive for a mortal."

"Thank you for the healing and for your words, Lord...?," Althea replied, offering him a small, appreciative smile.

He gave a low bow. "In am General Kael of the Light Court," he introduced. And then more softly, he added. "I would offer you a flower, but I suspect you prefer steel."

Althea laughed softly. "It was a pleasure to meet you, General."

From the hill, Soren stared down at them.

Kael's hand lingered too long on her arm. She laughed too loudly. Her smile lasted too long.

And something inside the Emperor fractured.

This hunt had not ended yet.

Not for him.

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