© 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 4 - THE IMPERIAL GARDENS

Althea was barely dressed when a knock sounded at her front gate. Rania, already up and bustling about, peeked through the wooden screen before turning to Althea with a troubled look.

"It's Lady Varis."

Althea straightened, slipping a silk robe over her nightgown. "Invite her in."

Lady Varis entered like a winter wind—sharp, cold, and entirely in control. Her dark robes whispered against the polished wood of the pavilion, and she spared no time for pleasantries.

"Beginning tomorrow," she announced, "you are expected to attend the morning gathering of the harem at precisely the eighth hour. You are expected to be dressed and ready to start the day."

Lady Varis paused to look around as though noting all the little changes Althea made to her new home. Earlier that day, Rania hung paintings they've brought from Leria. Some of the vases and accessories they've bought have also been placed on display.

''The morning tea is held daily in the Imperial Gardens. There, you will pay respect to me—until an Empress is chosen, in which case you will pay respect to her—and take tea with the other consorts. Attendance is not optional and I don't take kindly to anyone being late. Future events, announcements, and decrees will be given there."

Althea bowed her head respectfully. "Understood, Lady Varis."

Lady Varis's gaze flicked over her once before continuing, "As the only mortal among the Emperor's consorts, it has been decided that you will receive personal instruction in Fae etiquette."

She stepped aside and gestured for another woman to approach—a tall, willowy fae with alabaster skin and cold violet eyes. Her gown shimmered with the pale sheen of silver, and the curve of her mouth suggested mild disdain.

"This is Lady Siofra, Mistress of Protocol. She will oversee your training."

Althea gave a polite bow, but Lady Siofra did not return it. She only inclined her head slightly, as if acknowledging a minor servant.

Two more fae women stepped forward and curtsied. "These are servants from the Ministry of Rites, they are here to help with your training," she introduced.

Althea nodded to the two Fae servants who kept their head low as was required but she could feel the disdain emanating from them in waves.

"We begin immediately," the tutor said. "Come."

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

They headed towards one of the pavilions where the sun shone perfectly. It also provided a great view of the courtyard.

Rania prepared a pot of tea while Lady Siofra set scrolls and silk-bound books on the low table between them.

"We begin with hierarchy," Siofra announced. "The ranks among the Emperor's consorts are modeled after the oldest noble systems of Aetheria."

She unrolled a scroll that depicted a series of circles, each marked with fae runes and ornate illustrations.

"At the pinnacle is the Empress, of course. Below her are four Imperial Consorts, then the eight Consorts, followed by sixteen Noble Concubines. You, like all new additions, begin at the lowest rank—Concubine."

Althea nodded thoughtfully, noting the sheer number of steps between her and any real influence.

"No mortal," Siofra added with thinly veiled satisfaction, "has ever risen above this station."

It was on the tip of Althea's tongue to say that there's a first for everything but she swallowed the words instead.

The lesson continued.

Althea was taught how to greet other consorts depending on rank—a shallow curtsy for equals, a lower curtsy for those above, and no bow at all for those beneath her, should she ever rise in status.

"Currently," Siofra said, "all of you are equals. In name. In practice, influence and family background will set the tone."

Althea thought of Lady Sylphera, the gleaming estate she had seen from the corridor, perfectly situated near the Emperor's wing. It made sense now. Influence was a currency here—one she lacked.

"Next," Siofra gestured to a series of illustrated garments, "your attire. Color, embroidery, and accessories all reflect status. White and pale blue are reserved for the lowest rank. Green, gold, and scarlet denote the higher tiers. Only the Empress may wear red and phoenix motifs. The dragon, of course, belongs solely to His Majesty."

She spoke of headpieces—of the difference between a silver comb and a golden crown, of jeweled pins versus simple jade. Every detail was dictated, every thread, colony, and symbol a declaration of power.

Althea listened, absorbing every word.

In Leria, titles were a matter of nobility and land. But here—in the heart of the Fae Empire—rank was woven into every gesture, color, and breath.

"Soon," Siofra said, rising, "you will be tested. The banquet for the Concubines is coming soon. It is an event where the Emperor shows his concubines to the ministers and the nobility. All eyes will be on the Emperor's new concubines and as the only mortal here, you will be scrutinized more than everyone else."

She looked down her nose at Althea. "Do not break protocol or etiquette and embarrass me."

Althea bowed. "I wouldn't dare."

"We resume lessons after tomorrow's morning tea. I will teach you the steps to a Fae dance. All the Concubines will dance with the Emperor at the banquet. Do not be late."

The servants quickly packed all the books and scrolls and together with the tutor turned and left without another word.

As the pavilion fell quiet, Rania emerged from the shadows, her expression pinched. "I didn't like her."

Althea smiled faintly, rubbing her temples. "She didn't like me either."

But that was fine.

She wasn't here to be liked.

She was here to survive—and eventually, to win.

❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀ - ❀

When the afternoon came, Althea was summoned by a palace maid to go to the Imperial Gardens.

It was a long walk from Aurelune Hall, and the path took her through winding garden corridors that bloomed with ancient, magical life.

The Imperial Gardens were breathtaking. Flowers unlike any in the mortal world bloomed in impossible colors—petals of silver and gold, stems that shimmered with light, blossoms that pulsed with their own quiet magic. It was a world of beauty unlike anything Althea had ever seen.

She walked toward the designated tea area, where the concubines were already gathered. As she approached, the whispers began immediately.

"Oh look, the mortal joins us," a woman from the Autumn Court remarked, sipping delicately from her cup.

"I was wondering if she would even dare show her face," another chuckled. "Perhaps she's realized by now that she is nothing more than an ornament among us."

Sylphera smirked, tilting her head. "No, no. Let her sit. After all, she must be eager to hear what true concubines discuss. Perhaps she might even learn something."

Althea remained expressionless, offering no reaction to their words. Instead, she quietly made her way to a table at the far end, where Rania was already waiting. Her maid, ever perceptive, served her tea with steady hands, her face set in a determined calm.

The concubines continued their chatter, though now, Althea listened closely.

"Have you decided what to wear for the banquet tomorrow?"

"I have not–"

"I must have brought hundreds of gowns. I cannot choose!"

"I'm ready. And I'm excited to dance with the Emperor."

The chatter droned on and on about the banquet. Althea listened closely as it was her first banquet and even if she learned protocol and etiquette from Lady Siofra, she also needed to know what to expect.

The conversation, however, shifted quickly to gossip and the banquet was quickly forgotten.

"Lady Sylphera, you must tell us—was it you who spent the first night with His Majesty?" one of them asked playfully, though the underlying curiosity was evident.

Sylphera gave a knowing smile. "A lady never reveals such things," she said, swirling the wine in her goblet.

"Oh, so it was you then?" someone else pressed.

The Dark Court woman, lounging gracefully in her seat, chuckled. "Or perhaps none of us were chosen," she mused, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Wouldn't that be an interesting thought?"

A few of the concubines stiffened at her words, and for the first time, doubt rippled through the gathering. No one wanted to admit that none of them had been summoned to the Emperor's bed.

Althea took a sip of her tea, carefully concealing the smirk that threatened to form on her lips.

"I've heard word that..." Naeve from the Spring court began. The other concubines moved closer to listen. "...the Emperor isn't really that interested in women."

Sylphera laughed. "Oh come on. With battles left and right, do you think he's had a chance to indulge himself?"

"I agree. Now that there's peace in the realm and the new capital city has been constructed, it's time for the Emperor to settle down and reap the rewards he fought for. And that's why we're here," Thessia, another concubine from the Winter Kingdom, responded.

Naeve sighed. "I know. I just heard this story that there was once a palace maid who dared to jump in his bed when he was drunk. It was said the Emperor physically recoiled from her touch and then had her thrown out and killed."

Thessia rolled her eyes. "If I were him, I would've been disgusted too. The gall of that maid to reach for way above her station!"

A murmur of agreement was heard and Naeve sighed again. "Well, I hope it is true."

After a while of listening to more gossip that got more and more outrageous, Althea stood, giving Rania a brief glance. "Come," she murmured. "Let's find a quieter place."

She and Rania left the gathering, making their way to a secluded corner of the garden. Here, the air was filled only with the scent of flowers, untouched by the venomous whispers of the harem.

"This place is unlike any garden in Leria," Althea whispered, trailing her fingers over the petals of a sapphire-colored flower that seemed to hum beneath her touch.

"We should take some back for the courtyard," Rania said, glancing around. "It could use a bit of color."

Althea nodded absently, admiring the way the sunlight filtered through the high canopy, casting shifting patterns of gold and violet onto the marble pathways. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to forget where she was.

Then, the tranquility was shattered.

A ripple of tension passed through the air. The other concubines had arrived.

Sylphera led them, her emerald-green gown flowing behind her like liquid silk. "Hiding in the flowers, mortal?" she mused, tilting her head. "That suits you. Perhaps you should stay here and be a gardener instead."

A few of the other women laughed, some with genuine amusement, others simply to curry favor.

"I wonder if the Emperor felt pity for her," one of the concubines mused, her voice lilting with mock sympathy. "A mortal... alone in a grand palace—how tragic. Perhaps he keeps her around for entertainment just like the mortals that came here before her."

Another snickered. "Or perhaps as a reminder of the difference between true beauty and... mediocrity."

A woman from the Winter Court, her icy gaze lingering on Althea, added, "Maybe she's here for contrast. When the Emperor looks at her, he will appreciate the rest of us even more."

Laughter rippled through the group, sharp and cruel. "Imagine—being given a place in the Imperial Harem and knowing you will never be chosen," another said. "She may as well be furniture in the palace."

Rania bristled beside her, but Althea remained silent, her face unreadable.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him.

The Emperor stood at a distance, half-hidden in the shadows of a stone pavilion. Watching. Judging.

Althea turned back to the concubines. Her heart pounded beneath her calm façade, but her voice—when it came—was steel.

"You are right. I know my place. I am a mortal among fae, and I do not expect anything beyond what I have been given. But as for my status here, that was not my decision. It was the Emperor's. He chose for me to stand among you. Who am I to question his will?"

Silence followed.

"Even if he never calls upon me," she continued, her gaze unwavering, "then I will still be honored to serve him in whatever way I can. I will die happy knowing that I was once a concubine of the Emperor of Aetheria."

Sylphera's smirk faltered, just slightly.

A shift. A ripple in the game.

And in the distance, the Emperor remained watching.

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