Candlelight glowed on marble as King Aldric entered his mother's chambers. The air carried lavender and old parchment. Queen Ava, draped in silver robes, stood by the tall window, hands clasped behind her back.
"Your Majesty."
He bowed his head slightly. "Mother."
Ava studied her son for a moment before speaking.
"I called you here to discuss with you," she said, stepping closer. "You have been favoring Aurora too openly. I know she has your heart, but she is not your only queen."
Aldric's brow tensed slightly, but he remained silent.
"Selene and Virelda are queens of Velmora as well, and both are senior to Aurora. You made vows to all three. Love may be partial, but duty is not. You are their king. Their husband."
Her voice was gentle, but weighty.
"I am not asking you to feign affection. But your presence in their chambers—your effort to be fair—will preserve unity in this court. And peace among your queens."
Aldric finally responded, voice low but respectful.
"I understand, Mother."
Ava nodded slowly. "Good. Then do what is right. Visit them. Speak to them. Even a king must tend his household if he wants his kingdom steady."
She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, then turned back to the window.
"I know where your heart lies, Your Majesty. But do not let your heart sow division among your queens."
Aldric bowed slightly again before taking his leave—his mind heavy, but his steps resolute.
-
The fire had burned low in the hearth, casting a flickering golden glow across the stone walls of the king's study. Aldric stood with his arms braced against the edge of his desk, shoulders tense, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Kael stood at a respectful distance, hands clasped behind him, waiting silently.
"She said a king must not favor one queen so openly," Aldric said. "That the others have been neglected."
"The Queen Mother?" Kael asked, uncertain.
Aldric gave a slow nod, jaw tight.
"She said the court watches. The nobles whisper. Unity begins in the inner court—among the queens. I understand that. I do. But…"
He turned to Kael.
"I do not know how Aurora will take it."
Kael was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat gently.
"Your Majesty, with all due respect, it is best she hears it from you. If she learns it through whispers, it will wound far worse. The truth, even when painful, is best from the lips of one she trusts."
Aldric exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face.
"You are right, Kael. I will go to her now."
-
The scent of lavender lingered, mingling with a faint hint of rosewater. Aurora sat cross-legged on a low cushioned seat, her maids keeping their distance. Since the Myla incident, she had been cautious around them.
The door opened gently, and Aldric stepped in.
The maidens bowed, stiff and careful. Aurora stood at once, her expression curious but warm.
"Your Majesty. You return early."
Aldric replied softly " I needed to see you."
The maids bowed again and quietly excused themselves, slipping out like shadows.
He walked toward her, reaching for her hand, and kissed it with quiet reverence. She watched him closely. They moved to the cushioned bench by the fire, sitting close, their fingers still lightly entwined.
There was a silence. Then Aldric spoke.
"Mother called me today. She said something I have been thinking about since."
Aurora tilted her head. "What did she say?"
"That I must do more to keep peace among the queens. That Selene and Virelda are still senior in court. That my neglect—"
Aurora cut in. "She wants you to visit their chambers."
Aldric hesitated, then nodded.
Aurora held his gaze. He searched her face for hurt or disappointment. She only smiled gently.
"The king does not need my permission to see his queens. You are theirs as much as you are mine."
Her voice was calm, but too calm. The kind of calm that covered the ache like silk over a wound.
Aldric frowned, brushing a hand against her cheek.
"You are certain? I would never—"
"I am not the only queen, Aldric. I knew what I was walking into when I came to this palace. Let no one say you were unjust."
She leaned into his palm, eyes still steady, though her heart fluttered wildly beneath her ribs.
"And, if you must go... I trust you will still find your way back to me."
Aldric smiled faintly, then pressed his forehead to hers.
"I always will."
They sat quietly, fire crackling, love lingering beneath duty and jealousy.
-
Virelda sat at her table, attending her weekly duties, when a royal steward knocked.
"Your Majesty. A gift from His Majesty, the King."
Virelda blinked in disbelief.
Two footmen stepped forward, carefully placing a lacquered chest before her. Inside: a wine-red velvet gown embroidered with black lilies, a set of onyx combs from the southern isles, and a handwritten note.
"For Queen Virelda—who has waited long, and waited with grace."
Her fingers trembled as she touched the note, her breath caught somewhere between joy and disbelief.
She whispered, "After all these years…"
She had dreamed of this—of being seen, of being chosen, of being remembered. Though she had grown bitter in silence, something inside her cracked, softened just a little.
She held the dress to her body, stood before the mirror, and let herself smile.
Selene's reaction was different—but no less intense.
The queen's servants shrieked when they saw the box. One of them, a girl from the eastern provinces, nearly dropped the silver tray she was carrying.
"My lady—look!"
Inside the chest was a deep sapphire necklace shaped like falling stars, and a thin gold circlet with intricate floral etchings. Alongside it: a bolt of silk from distant Cassara, pale blue and shimmered with silver thread. A note lay tucked on top.
"For Queen Selene—whose presence is elegance itself."
Selene clutched the card to her chest and twirled on the spot, her silks catching the morning sun like water.
She grins "Do you see? Do you see it now? He sees me. Finally, he sees me."
She wore the circlet all day, even indoors. When she walked down the corridor, her hips swayed with fresh confidence.
-
Aurora sat with her embroidery in the small east garden, shaded by willow trees, the quiet rustle of birdsong around her. Her maids, eager to win back her trust, began to speak.
Lira started, cautious. "My lady… did you hear? The king sent gifts—to Queen Selene and Queen Virelda. Both."
Faye looked up. "Not just any gifts—gowns and jewels, with handwritten notes. The entire west wing is stirring."
Aurora paused mid-stitch, letting the thread hang. She glanced at the sky and smiled softly. "Oh?"
"You are not… upset, my lady?"
"He is a king. And they are his queens."
Her voice held no sarcasm, no anger. Her expression was as calm and radiant as morning sun. The maids exchanged a glance—quiet hearts could ache silently, after all.
Aurora returned to her work, gently drawing the needle through the cloth.
"My lady," Seren moved closer, the others following. "We know you are disappointed in us. In Myla. You treated us like family, yet there was betrayal among us."
"We are sorry," Faye added, "and we miss your smiles and our chatter."
"We kept our distance because we feared you would dismiss all of us," Lira said. "But if you give us one more chance, we swear there will be no such thing again."
The others nodded, eyes brimming.
Aurora studied them, then smiled. "I hold nothing against you, ladies. You are my companions, and you always will be."
The maids exchanged incredulous glances.
"Really, my lady?"
"Yes," Aurora said, opening her arms wide.
The maids rushed into a hug all at once.
"I cannot breathe!" Aurora teased, and they all laughed.
-
The air was warm with jasmine incense, curling softly through the dim candlelight of Queen Virelda's chambers. Her maids had been dismissed long ago, but not before carefully laying out the bed—fresh silk sheets, fragrant petals, and plumped pillows. The bronze mirror gleamed from a recent polish, and the low table bore a tray with the king's favorite wine, chilled in crystal.
Virelda stood before the mirror, adjusting the neckline of her sapphire satin robe. It clung to her figure with intention—revealing enough to stir desire, yet dignified enough to maintain her poise as queen. Her dark hair had been loosened, cascading over one shoulder like spilled ink, and her lips painted a soft rose.
She paced once, then sat. Then stood again. Her heart thudded like a young girl's, betraying her years of composure.
She told herself inwardly
"Calm yourself. You are not some concubine. You are Queen Virelda of Velmora."
Still, she could not help the silent prayer that formed as she faced the door.
"Let tonight be different. Let him see me. Let him... stay."
Then the door creaked open.
She turned swiftly, spine straight, breath held.
Aldric stepped in. Clad in a simple dark tunic and cloak, his gaze calm and unreadable. There was no warmth in his eyes, but there was no cruelty either—only the collected expression of a king doing his duty.
Virelda bows "Your Majesty. Welcome."
Aldric smiles and gave a small nod. "Virelda."
She moved to him with grace, lifting the tray of wine. She poured into the goblet and offered it with both hands.
"I had the kitchen chill it, just as you prefer—drawn from the northern cellar."
"Thank you."
They sat, the candlelight soft on their faces. Virelda watched him with measured eagerness, speaking gently—never too forward, never pleading.
"In the early days… Your Majesty used to come often. You would honor my invitations, even without reason."
A pause. Not accusatory, just observant.
Aldric took a sip of the wine. His voice remained calm.
"That was before my time became split across too many duties. The crown demands more of me now."
"Of course. I understand."
She smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes. She leaned slightly forward, allowing the satin of her robe to shift—subtle, intentional. Her perfume lingered sweet in the air, and when she stood to refill his cup, she moved slowly, with the elegance of a practiced court queen.
When Aldric finished the second cup, he stood.
"I will lie down for a bit."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
He moved to the bed and sat at the edge, unlacing his boots. Virelda joined him—not too close, but enough. She reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve.
"Will Your Majesty permit me to ease the day's weariness?"
Her tone was velvet, barely above a whisper.
Aldric turned his head to her. His eyes held neither lust nor anger—just a quiet finality.
His reply came firmly, kindly.
"You should rest, Virelda. That is all."
Her hand slowly withdrew.
For a long moment, silence lingered. Then, wordlessly, he lay back on the bed, turning slightly away. Virelda sat frozen for a breath, her heart still thudding—but the thud had changed. A dull ache now. A quiet knowing.
She slowly reclined beside him—no closeness, no touch—just presence.
-
The sun crept gently into the chamber, casting soft gold across the marbled floors and the rumpled silk sheets. But the warmth of dawn did little to thaw the cold space beside her—the part of the bed where the king had lain just hours ago.
He was gone.
She did not need the maids to tell her. She had known the moment her eyes opened and the scent of him had already faded from the chamber.
Virelda remained lying for a long while, her dark hair tangled against the pillow, her eyes fixed on the canopy above.
She did not weep. She simply breathed, long and slow.
The sting was there—but deep. She had not truly expected anything different. But the part of her that had hoped, that had prayed, now curled inward like a wounded petal, unseen by the world.
She turned her head and glanced toward the untouched breakfast tray a maid had brought in silently an hour ago. Pomegranate seeds, honeyed bread, warm goat milk. She had not touched it.
Instead, she sat up with care, smoothing her robe across her knees. The sheets rustled like whispers.
She rose, slow and deliberate, as if even her movements obeyed the dignity she clung to. At her vanity, she reached for the pearl comb, brushing through her hair with steady hands.
"A queen does not sulk. A queen does not break."
She whispered quietly, to her own reflection. "You are fine. You are still queen."
Then she called for her maids.
-
Word had spread.
Selene heard it first from her sharp-eared maid, whispering as she combed her hair, "His Majesty spent the night in Queen Virelda's chamber."
That was all she needed.
If Virelda had received him, surely she would be next. It was only a matter of time. She began preparing long before the letter arrived—perfumes were laid out, her most daring nightgowns pressed and perfumed, the silks sheer enough to capture the moonlight.
But the next night passed. Then another. And another still. No letter. No sound. Nothing.
She dared not ask Virelda what had transpired. They were not friends.
Selene waited, prayed, even starved for a day.
And then—finally—a knock came at dusk.
A palace servant bowed low and handed her the folded parchment. She knew before she even opened it. Her hands trembled with joy.
"His Majesty shall visit your chambers tonight."
She screamed. Literally.
Her servants came running. "Bring the jasmine oil!" she ordered, half-laughing. "And the silver-threaded robe. No—the red one. No… both!"
Her chamber became a hive of motion. Incense swirled. Her skin was scrubbed, oiled, perfumed. Her long golden hair was braided with gold clasps. And beneath the velvet robe, she wore nearly nothing—a sheer garment, thin as morning mist.
She studied her reflection and smiled.
Then she crossed to her wardrobe and drew out a folded napkin. Inside lay the charm she had purchased long before—since the time she had awaited his arrival.
Its purpose was simple: to stir his spirit the moment his eyes met hers.
To make him choose her.
To make him stay.
Her smile curved, dark and certain.
"You are mine, Your Majesty," she whispered.
"You will not look past me tonight."