© 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 16 - THE WAR BEGINS

The rain began before sunrise, soaking the forest in silver sheets. The soft rustle of leaves gave way to the steady drumming on the carriage roof as Althea leaned back against the velvet-lined seat, eyes half-lidded, body aching in ways she wasn't ready to name.

The hunt was canceled and the Emperor ordered everyone's return to the palace.

Thank the gods.

Outside, the muddy roads slowed the pace of the return journey. Carriage wheels groaned in thick ruts, and the entire procession moved sluggishly through the woods. Thunder growled faintly in the distance. Inside the cabin, the lantern swung slightly with every jostle.

Althea winced as the carriage lurched over another bump. Her thighs protested, her back stiff from hours of being pinned beneath him. She shifted gingerly and exhaled through her nose.

Rania noticed.

"You're quiet, Princess" she said from across the carriage, though her smile tugged knowingly. "Or is that because you're sore in every place that counts?"

Althea shot her a look, but the heat rose to her cheeks anyway.

Rania grinned. "Was it that intense?"

Althea turned her gaze to the rain-spattered window. "He didn't hold back."

She said it quietly, not to provoke awe, but because it was the truth. And the truth was difficult.

It hadn't been sweet or gentle. There had been no care, no slow unraveling of affection. It had been rough. Possessive. Almost feral.

She closed her eyes, and her body answered before her mind did—remembering the way he'd growled her name into her neck, the bruising weight of his hands on her hips, the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. Pleasure had come. Shocking, fierce pleasure. But it had been laced with something else.

Obsession.

He hadn't made love to her.

He had claimed her.

A flicker of unease settled low in her stomach.

What if I tried to leave?

The thought came unbidden.

Would he let her go? Could he?

"I'm guessing the harem will know by the time we return," Rania said softly.

Althea didn't respond.

Rania tried again. "What do we do now?"

Althea opened her eyes, still watching the blur of trees beyond the glass. "We stop pretending we're invisible."

Rania blinked. "That sounds... dangerous."

"It is," Althea said. "But the Emperor has made it impossible to hide. The moment he walked into my tent last night, everything changed. They'll come for me now. Every single one of them."

"So we hope the Emperor protects you," Rania said, suddenly serious. "Surely now—"

"No," Althea interrupted. "Not yet. We can't count on him."

Rania stared. "But why? You're his favorite. He made that very clear."

Althea turned to her slowly. "And yet when Sylphera painted herself the victim, when her father and the Winter Court watched from the trees, he went to her. Not to me. Even when I was the one bleeding."

The air between them fell still.

"He's an Emperor first. A man second," Althea said, her eyes fixed on the far horizon beyond the carved balcony rail. "He'll always have to put duty above desire. Above me."

"Then what do we do?" Rania whispered.

Althea's voice was quiet but firm. "We look at the court. We gather our own allies. As for the Emperor? We win his heart... without giving him mine."

She paused, fingers trailing over the silk sash at her waist. Her thoughts lingered on the night before—on the way he had touched her like she was the only thing in the world that could keep him breathing.

But she wasn't foolish.

"Sex is not enough," she said softly, more to herself than to Rania. "It's a beginning, not a foundation. There are a dozen women in this palace who would sell their souls for a night in his bed—and many more who already have. Sooner or later, he'll lose interest. He'll move on."

Rania looked at her with a furrowed brow, but said nothing.

Althea turned to her, eyes sharp now. "I need to show him I offer more. That I'm more than soft skin and silk sheets. If I want to survive here... if I want to last, I need to matter beyond the bed."

"Rania. I want you to start gathering information. Quietly. No one can know."

The maid straightened, alert. "What kind of information?"

"Everything you can find about the Emperor. What does he like? What does he hate? How does he spend his time when he's not ruling?" Althea's gaze turned calculating. "Does he read? Train? Does he have hobbies, vices, rituals? I want to know the man behind the crown."

"I'll try my best, Princess. Since the Emperor sent you gifts before, the Fae servants have been nicer to us. This information might be easy to get."

Althea nodded. "Give them a gift in exchange for the information they provide."

Rania nodded slowly. "And the court?"

"We study them too. The ministers. Their alliances. Their grudges. Who whispers in whose ear. Who wants power. Who fears it. We'll find the cracks and plant our roots there."

She turned back to the window, her reflection ghosting across the glass.

"I may not have magic. Or noble blood. But I have one weapon none of them expect."

Rania tilted her head. "What's that?"

Althea's voice was steel. "Strategy."

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

They returned to Aurelune Hall just after midday. The rain had softened to a mist, curling over the palace like a veil.

Rania got to work immediately—unpacking, hanging cloaks, drying boots by the fire. Althea was toweling her hair when the knock came. A trio of the Emperor's servants stood in the hallway—silent, efficient, and carrying something between them.

A carved wooden chest inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

They set it down before her and bowed.

"The Emperor gives you these gifts as a token of his love," the male servant said. Love? Althea internally scoffed at the word. Outside, she kept her face blank and mustered a small, polite smile.

Althea gave them a small nod. "Please convey my thanks to the Emperor."

With another bow towards her, the servants left without another word. Once they were out of sight, Rania ran to the chest, knelt and opened it, her eyes widening.

Inside was a small treasury: pearl necklaces, golden cuffs, jade bangles, silver anklets shaped like vines, jeweled hair pins and rings, dangling ear rings, each piece glittering with Fae craftsmanship so exquisite it looked like it belonged in a temple.

Althea stared down at the contents, stunned.

"Shall I store these with the others?" Rania asked, already reaching for the velvet wrappings in the cabinet.

Althea hesitated.

"No," she said.

Rania blinked. "Pardon, princess?"

Althea picked up a golden cuff, its edges shaped like dragon wings. "I'll wear them."

Rania just looked at her, stunned.

"Word has spread. There's no use hiding anymore."

Rania clapped her hands. "Tomorrow, you'll finally be dressed as befits your station. I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they see what the Emperor has given you!"

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

The rumors spread like wildfire.

That evening, in the harem's eastern wing, a teacup shattered against the wall of Lady Sylphera's private rooms.

The sound echoed through the polished corridors.

"She what?" Sylphera hissed, her voice shrill.

Her maid trembled as she bowed low. "The guards say they heard it. The Emperor. In her tent. All night. He... he didn't even try to be discreet."

Sylphera's nostrils flared. She turned slowly, eyes flashing with cold fury.

"That whore. She was supposed to be insignificant," she spat. "A mortal. A shadow. Nothing."

Another teacup followed the first.

Thessia and Seliora watched silently from nearby, sipping their wine with dispassionate expressions.

"She's not nothing anymore," Seliora said softly. "The Emperor wants her. Everyone saw the way he looked at her during the hunt."

"She's been in his bed for one night," Thessia replied. "Favors change."

Seliora's maid approached and whispered in her ear. Seliora gasped and looked at Sylphera and Thessia. "I've just heard the Emperor sent the mortal gifts worth a fortune," Seliora murmured.

Sylphera's jaw clenched and another teacup went flying. "Then it's time we remind her what happens to those who rise too quickly."

Her gaze flicked to the window, where rain still whispered against the glass.

"I want her gone," she said. "Humiliated. Ruined. Killed. I don't care how."

Thessia tilted her head. "Poison?"

Seliora shook her head. "Too obvious. Too fast."

"Then scandal," Sylphera said. "We'll plant whispers. Rumors. Let the court believe she's already playing in someone else's bed."

Thessia leaned forward, her eyes wide. "Do you remember that General who helped her at the hunt? I think we could use him."

Sylphera's smile was all frost. "Then it's settled. We ruin her. Publicly. Permanently." She stepped to the window, watching as the storm clouds rolled over the palace roof.

"Let her bask in his light today," she whispered. "She'll burn by morning."

Thessia raised an elegant brow. "And if the Emperor protects her?"

Sylphera's smile was all teeth. "He won't."

She turned back to them, green eyes gleaming.

"Because we're going to make it look like she did it to herself."

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