Three days had passed since the council's meeting.

The head maid called, loud and sharp, drawing everyone's attention. "Eyes forward and ears sharp. All of you listen carefully," she began.

Her gaze swept over the crowd of maids and slaves that gathered for the quick meeting. "Today the palace will be welcoming guests. High and important guests. The ladies are to be treated with utmost respect. Each of you will be assigned to one of them. You will help them dress, bathe, sleep if need be. You will attend to their needs and ensure they have everything they desire during their stay. Any disobedience or disrespect will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Head maid," they all chorused.

"You'd think some other royals were arriving. Or maybe it is. The preparations since morning have been very tight," Kora whispered, leaning closer to Adina.

Adina gave a small nod, pretending to listen. Her eyes, however, were drawn to the palace steps, where the guards stood taller than usual and tense.

Maids rushing back and forth, all in preparation for the guests they would be receiving. Earlier, she had been tasked to clean out an entire wing. The one next to the king's wing.

"They're here!" a voice shrieked, and they all turned, bodies craned. Even the head maid paused to look.

Twelve carriages.

Twelve.

They arrived like queens. The carriages, black and gold, rolled through the obsidian gates, each more extravagant than the last. A flutter of nervous excitement rippled through the palace grounds as servants and guards lined the courtyard. Everyone watched, whispering and gawking.

The first carriage stopped, and the door swung open.

A heeled foot stepped out, followed by a gown of deep sapphire. The woman that stepped out had clear skin like glass, eyes like ocean blue, and a smile that would melt even the devil's heart. Her chin was tilted just slightly upward, and she carried herself with such grace.

Then another. And another.

The last woman stepped out in white and gold, her crown braided into her hair. Her eyes swept the line of maids like one would scan stale meats at the market.

All twelve were impossibly beautiful, impossibly poised. Their gowns floated around them, each decorated with the most absurd jewels. Diamonds, emerald greens, silver whites. It was a silent display of power. Wealth.

"They don't even look real," someone whispered beside Adina.

"Oh gracious goddess above… they're all so pretty it's disgusting."

"Gods," another maid muttered, "are they all princesses or what?"

Kora leaned in beside her with a wry whisper. "They're here for the king. Twelve concubines. That's what I heard from the kitchen girls. All twelve provinces sent their best."

Adina didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was dry.

Twelve concubines. When the news had first broken out. She couldn't believe it. Didn't believe it. The king would rather take on concubines than acknowledge her as his mate?

Did she disgust him so much?

Adina shook her head; she was being silly. He had told her, clearly and without remorse, exactly how he felt about her, and yet, here she was feeling so…

Ah, she was so foolish.

Kora glanced at her, frowning. "You alright?"

Adina smiled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But her fingers had curled tightly into her dress. This was good. If he wanted concubines, then he could have them.

She didn't care. Truly, she didn't. Thorne was a king. He could have twelve women or twenty. It had nothing to do with her.

All that was left for her to do was to find her way to nullify her pain. Rejecting a man such as the king was out of the question. She still valued her life no matter how miserable it was. She knew the pain would hit soon the moment he started to bed the concubines.

She knew how brutal the bond could be. She remembered the agony each time Roman slept with Catherine, how it tore through her body and soul. And if it went on for days, she'd beg for death. No. She couldn't survive that again. Wouldn't.

Adina swallowed hard, breath shallow. Her mind was made up. She had to find a way to nullify the bond.

It was the only way to survive what came next.

________

From the balcony of the room, Elara stood, arms crossed tightly as she watched the courtyard, her eyes narrowed.

The carriages arrived one after the other like prizes in a sick game. Twelve of them. Twelve.

She gritted her teeth. Those damned councilmen.

All of them shoving their daughters at Thorne like starving hounds. Desperate and utterly Shameless. The realm was rotting from the inside. The borders were growing more unstable with rogues and rebels. Dissent simmering among the lowborn, and this was what the council chose to focus on?

Who he fucked.

Greedy bastards.

Her nails dug into her arms. She'd been sick to her stomach when she heard the news. Those greedy old bastards for their thing.

She'd spent the past three days trying to get them to take down their demands. Heck! They could've asked for whatever and gotten it but this… this was preposterous. No one deserved to bear Thorne's pups except her. Only her who had been by his side and supported him should be his queen. His mate. Chosen or fated. Heck! If he had a concubine. It should be her.

One by one, the concubines stepped out. Silks trailing. Smiles dazzling. As if they hadn't already calculated every move they'd make the moment they arrived. Peacocks, the lot of them. A show of shame. Who got to be the king's concubine. Who steals the people's heart today.

Then came the last carriage. Elara's breath caught as the door opened.

No.

Hell no.

Stepping out was a woman, draped in white and gold, crown braided into her hair, porcelain skin, and cat-like eyes. Her presence was soft, almost ethereal. She was delicate like a swan and perfect. Too perfect.

"Of course," Elara muttered under her breath, face burning red. "Of course she came."

Irene.

The Lead Councilman's daughter.

Her oldest, most loathed enemy.

The hatred she felt for the other was even more than she felt for that slave. Adina. Irene was a pest. One Elara itched to get rid of years ago and succeeded in doing.

Irene had made clear of her feelings for Thorne the very first day she came to Obsidian. She had followed her father to the council meeting and was fortunate enough to be introduced to the king. Irene had developed what she called 'love at first sight.'

Pathetic was what it was.

At first, Elara didn't take it seriously. Irene was just another bimbo who wanted to use her father's powers to become the queen. She'd brushed it off until that day. When she had caught Irene in Thorne's room. On his bed.

Elara saw red. She had dragged Irene off the bed like she stole. Irene didn't back down. No- she jerked her arm free and struck Elara.

"You should be more respectful, General," she had said with a smirk. "I'll be his wife soon. Your Queen. You wouldn't want to make an enemy of me."

Elara had hated her from that moment on.

Now she was here, In the palace, as Thorne's concubine.

Over her dead fucking body.

Elara turned on her heel, storming out of the room.