Romulus POV)
I remained standing at the balcony long after the sea breeze had grown dry and warm against my skin.
Flowers in a harem.
That was how most men saw women sent here—ornaments meant to please the eye, bodies meant to warm the bed, names meant to fade. Alexandria's harem was vast, filled with women from conquered lands, noble families eager for favor, and daughters offered up as peace offerings. They came draped in silk and jewels, but behind their smiles were fear, ambition, or resignation.
Almera Ashelet Constantine would be no different.
At least, that was what I told myself.
Yet the name lingered longer in my thoughts than it should have.
Daughter of the former saintess.
The bloodline alone was enough to make her dangerous—or invaluable.
I closed my eyes and pressed my palm against the stone railing. Beneath the silk of my sleeve, my skin burned faintly, as it often did when the poison stirred. The pain was not sharp, not enough to incapacitate me. It was worse than that—persistent, gnawing, like embers buried beneath ash, reminding me that my body was a borrowed thing slowly being reclaimed by death.
The physicians said I had time.
They always said that.
Time measured in years, perhaps. Or months, if fate was unkind.
Cecilia had far less.
Her cough had worsened in recent months, the desert air doing her no favors. I could still remember how she tried to hide the blood on her handkerchief, smiling at me as if I were a fool who could not see through such a thin lie. She was gentle—too gentle for the palace. Had she not been born under Shaniya's protection, she would have been swallowed whole by the harem long ago.
Just like my mother.
I exhaled slowly.
I did not fight my siblings for the throne because I desired power. I fought because sitting on that throne was the only way to protect what little I had left. If I had lost, Cecilia would have been discarded, used as a pawn or silenced quietly. The palace devoured the weak, and mercy was a luxury no emperor could afford.
That was the truth no one sang praises about.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
"Your Majesty."
I turned to see Ashta standing at the threshold of the balcony, her posture straight, her expression composed as always. She had served me since I was young, long before the crown rested upon my head. If anyone understood the weight behind my silence, it was her.
"The Constantine delegation has arrived at the outer gates," she said. "The princess will be escorted to the inner palace before dusk."
So soon.
I nodded. "Ensure the guards assigned are discreet. I don't want a spectacle."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ashta hesitated, just briefly. "There are… whispers already spreading among the women of the inner palace."
Of course there were.
A new woman entering the harem always stirred the stagnant waters. A foreign princess more so. A princess from the enemy empire? That was enough to turn curiosity into poison.
"Let them whisper," I said calmly. "Words alone cannot kill."
Ashta bowed. "As you command."
When she left, the room felt larger, emptier.
I returned to my desk and glanced once more at the open scroll bearing the seal of Constantine—crimson wax stamped with a lion devouring its own tail.
A fitting emblem.
Reginald Constantine III was not a fool. Sending his eldest daughter here was not an act of submission—it was a calculated sacrifice. He expected her to die. Either by intrigue within my palace or by my own hand when the truce inevitably fractured.
If she lived, she would be his eyes.
If she died, she would be his excuse.
Either way, she was meant to be expendable.
My fingers curled slowly.
If Almera Ashelet Constantine truly possessed the power her bloodline was rumored to carry, then perhaps she was not as helpless as her father believed.
And perhaps she knew it.
That thought amused me.
I had seen fear in many women's eyes when they were brought before me—some hid it behind obedience, others behind pride. But those who carried secrets had a different gaze. Watchful. Measuring. As if every word was weighed before being spoken.
If she were clever, she would attempt to bargain.
If she were foolish, she would attempt to defy me.
Either way, tonight would reveal her worth.
I straightened and summoned the attendants to prepare the wedding chambers.
"Almera Ashelet Constantine," I murmured into the warm, silent air.
"Show me what kind of princess you are."
Because if you can save Cecilia…
Then even the daughter of my enemy may earn a place in this palace—not as a flower in my harem, but as a piece on my board.
And I do not discard useful pieces.
(Almera POV)
The sea of sand ended without warning.
One moment, the horizon was nothing but gold and heat, endless dunes rising and falling like waves frozen in time. The next, green pierced the land like a miracle.
I leaned forward on my camel, eyes widening as Atenisia revealed itself before me.
Water.
Actual water.
Channels ran through the land like veins, reflecting the sun in shimmering blues. Tall palm trees lined the stone roads leading toward the city, their shadows stretching long across fertile soil. White stone buildings rose in tiers, carved and polished, crowned with domes and banners bearing the sigil of Alexandria.
So this is the capital of a desert empire.
"It's beautiful," Jessie whispered beside me, awe clear in her voice.
I could only nod.
For a land so starved of water, Atenisia looked like defiance carved into stone, a city that refused to bow to nature's cruelty. I finally understood what Malik had meant when he said water was gold here. This city was wealth incarnate.
"The capital is divided," Malik said as we approached the outer gates. "The lower city houses merchants, craftsmen, and common citizens. The upper city is reserved for the aristocracy and the imperial palace."
My gaze lifted instinctively.
At the highest point of the city, overlooking both land and sea, stood the palace. Its walls were pale stone, glowing under the sun, massive and immovable. From afar, it looked serene.
From afar.
A shiver ran down my spine.
That palace would be my cage.
The guards at the gates straightened the moment they saw Malik. His presence alone parted the crowd as if by instinct. People stepped aside, bowing low, not to me, but to him.
So this is how much authority he holds.
As we passed through the gates, the noise of the city surrounded us. Vendors calling out their goods, children running barefoot through the streets, the scent of spices and fresh bread mixing in the air. Life thrived here, not the strained survival I had expected from a war-torn empire.
People were… content.
And that realization unsettled me more than hostility would have.
"This way, my lady," Malik said, guiding us forward.
We rode through the lower city slowly. No stones were thrown. No curses hurled.
Some people stared, curious, wary, intrigued, but there was no hatred in their eyes. If anything, there was speculation.
So, this is how Romulus rules.
Not through fear alone, but through stability.
The path began to slope upward, and the architecture shifted subtly. The streets widened, the buildings grew taller and more ornate. Guards in golden armor stood at every corner, their spears gleaming.
The air itself felt different here.
Heavier.
As we reached the inner gates leading to the palace grounds, Malik dismounted first and extended a hand to help me down. I hesitated only a second before taking it.
"Welcome to Atenisia, Princess Almera," he said formally. "From here on, only authorized personnel may proceed."
I swallowed.
"This is where I part from you?" I asked.
"For now," Malik replied. "You will be escorted inside by palace attendants. I will remain within the palace walls."
That eased me, slightly.
I nodded and turned my gaze toward the palace doors.
They were enormous.
Carved with reliefs of conquest and prosperity, of emperors crowned by the sun itself. As they slowly opened, a rush of cool air washed over me.
I stepped forward.
This is it.
Inside, the palace was quieter than I expected. Wide corridors stretched endlessly, marble floors cool beneath my feet. Servants bowed deeply as I passed, their eyes never lifting.
I was led to a chamber meant for rest and preparation.
"The emperor will summon you this evening," one of the attendants said. "Please make yourself comfortable."
The doors closed behind them with a soft, final sound.
Alone.
I exhaled slowly and let my shoulders sag.
I had arrived.
Alive.
I moved toward the window and looked out at Atenisia once more. From this height, the city looked peaceful, almost gentle.
But I knew better.
This empire devoured kingdoms.
And now, it had me.
"Emperor Romulus," I murmured.
A tyrant. A conqueror. A man who sat on the throne at fifteen and never let go.
And yet…
He had ordered my journey to be comfortable.
He had sent Malik to guard me personally.
That alone told me one thing.
I was not worthless to him.
Good.
I straightened my back and allowed a small, calculating smile to form.
Then you will listen to my deal.
Because I did not cross a sea of sand to die quietly in a gilded cage.