The backyard of the sprawling estate was bathed in the soft golden light of early morning.
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves.
Aiden stood at the center of the gathered group, already dressed in the deep crimson-and-gold academy uniform.
Around him stood thirteen of his wives, each transformed by the same uniform into an arresting vision of coordinated elegance and raw sensuality.
The female version clung scandalously to their curves.
Luna clung to Aiden's left arm, black hair spilling over the crimson velvet, her breasts straining the blouse.
Aethoniel stood shyly to his right.
Valeforia and Xylendra flanked them like dark mirrors—tattooed, voluptuous.
Thristle, Nyxion, Vegia, Arisha, Lysandra, Nayla, Selvara, and Zerra completed the circle, each radiating a different flavor of lethal beauty.
At the edge of the group stood the ones staying behind.
Edda and little Liri stood side by side.
Noir held Selvara's hand tightly, whispering, "Be safe, Mama."
