For three days and three nights, the doors of the wedding chambers remained closed.
No imperial summons came from within.
No council meetings were held in the emperor's presence.
No concubine was called, no petition answered.
Only servants entered—and even they did so quietly, eyes lowered, steps light.
Everyone knew what was happening behind those doors.
The chambers were not muted.
Laughter spilled into the hallways at odd hours. Low voices intertwined in the quiet of dawn. Sometimes, in the deep of night, sounds of breath and murmured words echoed softly through the stone corridors, carried by the still desert air.
The harem heard everything.
By the second night, whispers had already begun.
By the third morning, the truth had settled like dust after a storm—
The new bride was not a ceremonial ornament.
She was not a hostage kept at arm's length.
She was favored.
