It was Riven who finally untied the ritual silks.
Not Kaedan.
Not a servant.
Not a guard.
Riven stood stone-still as he cut through the trembling red ribbons with a ceremonial blade, never once looking her directly in the eye. The anger radiating off him wasn’t aimed at her — Ariaxa felt that instantly. It was the kind of cold fury reserved for a commander watching his Emperor unravel.
When her wrists were free, she swayed. Riven caught her elbow.
“Do not fall,” he murmured.
His voice was quiet, strangely gentle — the first softness she had heard from anyone in hours.
He led her out of Kaedan’s chambers without another word.
The doors closed behind them with a heavy, enchanted thud, sealing the Emperor inside his storm.
Ariaxa’s legs trembled as she walked down the corridor. Riven didn’t release her arm until they reached the curve of the hallway that led to the harem wing.
Only then did he let go.
Only then did he speak.
“Do not look back.”
She didn’t.
Inside the harem wing, chaos simmered like a fever.
Slaves huddled together in clusters — on cushions, on the marble floor, against the walls. Some cried quietly. Others whispered frantically.
“—did you see him—”
“—killed for her—”
“—the Emperor has lost his mind—”
“—she’s going to get all of us executed—”
Ariaxa’s stomach twisted.
The moment they noticed her entering behind Riven, the whispers sharpened, like claws dragging over stone. Eyes tracked her — fear, resentment, awe, jealousy.
Mirel pushed through the crowd and rushed to Ariaxa, cupping her face.
“Are you hurt? Did he—did he—?”
“I’m fine,” Ariaxa whispered. A lie. “Just tired.”
Mirel hugged her tightly. “You came back. That’s what matters.”
Riven dismissed the gathering with a single cold look, and the slaves scattered. Some obeyed out of fear. Others out of desperate self-preservation. One girl crossed herself in the Old Sun gesture after looking at Ariaxa — as if needing protection.
When the last slave slipped out of the hallway, Riven turned to Ariaxa.
“Come with me.”
Ariaxa hesitated. “Where?”
“The bathing chamber. We need privacy.”
Steam clung to the air as they stepped inside — warm, thick, the scent of rose petals floating from the heated pool. The lamps were low, golden shadows flickering against the mosaic walls.
Riven shut the door behind them.
Ariaxa wrapped her arms around herself. “Riven… what is happening? Why did Kaedan—”
“Stop.” His voice cut through her questions like a blade. “I did not take you here to soothe you.”
Her heart thudded painfully.
Riven stepped closer. Not touching, but close enough that the heat of him brushed her skin.
“I took you here,” he said softly, “because if you do not understand the danger you are in, you will die.”
Ariaxa swallowed. “I already know I’m in danger.”
“No,” Riven murmured. “You know nothing.”
She flinched at the harshness in his tone.
Riven exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted — emotionally, physically, dangerously so.
He stepped fully into her space.
“Ariaxa,” he said, voice lowering, “you are changing the Emperor.”
Her breath caught.
Riven continued, each word deliberate.
“Everyone sees it. The harem. The nobles. The guards. The generals.” His eyes hardened. “And they are afraid. Not for you.” A beat. “For themselves.”
“I didn’t do anything—”
“You exist,” Riven hissed. “That is enough.”
Ariaxa stepped back. The marble wall kissed her spine. “I don’t want him to—”
“To what?” Riven demanded. “Want you? Protect you? Obsess over you?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Riven slammed his palm against the wall beside her head — not touching her, but close enough that the vibration rattled her bones.
“This palace,” he said softly, “destroys anything that influences him.”
Ariaxa’s voice trembled. “I’m not trying to influence—”
“Intent is irrelevant.” Riven’s jaw clenched. “Perception is everything. And the court sees you as the Emperor’s fracture.”
She looked up at him helplessly. “What am I supposed to do?”
Riven’s expression shifted — anger giving way to something almost sympathetic.
“You have two choices,” he said. “And you will not like either.”
Ariaxa’s throat tightened. “What choices?”
“Resist him,” Riven said. “Completely. Utterly. Make him believe you fear and hate him enough that he loses interest.”
Her pulse stuttered. “And if I can’t? If I—”
“If you cannot,” Riven said slowly, “then you must learn to play his game.”
She stared at him, horrified. “Riven—no.”
“There is no third option,” he whispered. “Not in this palace. Not with a man like Kaedan.” He leaned in, voice brushing her ear like a warning carved in smoke. “If you provoke him with fear… he will devour you. If you provoke him with defiance… he will break you. But if you understand him—truly understand him… you might survive.”
“Survive,” she repeated weakly. “Not live.”
Riven didn’t deny it.
He stepped back, expression grim.
Ariaxa pressed her hands to her face. “I hate this. I hate all of it.”
“I know,” Riven said quietly. “I hate it too.”
His tone changed then — soft but heavy. A prelude to something worse.
“And there is something else you must know.”
Ariaxa lowered her hands. “What?”
Riven looked at her, eyes darkening with something like dread.
“Seren,” he said. “She is no longer with Lord Vaelen.”
Ariaxa’s heart dropped. “Did Kaedan bring her back?”
“No,” Riven said. “She escaped.”
A cold pulse shot through Ariaxa’s veins. “Escaped? How?”
“By killing three of Vaelen’s handlers,” Riven said. “And stealing a horse.”
Ariaxa grabbed the edge of a marble basin to steady herself. “Gods…”
“She is headed back to Vharon,” Riven continued. “Tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe she is already inside the outer gates.”
Ariaxa’s voice cracked. “Why would she come back?”
Riven stepped closer, lowering his voice to a chilling whisper.
“Because she believes Kaedan replaced her.”
Ariaxa felt her entire body go cold.
“And she believes,” Riven finished, “that you are the reason.”
Silence suffocated the room.
Ariaxa whispered, barely audible:
“…what will she do?”
Riven’s answer was immediate.
“Whatever it takes.”
He met her eyes, no softness left in him.
“Seren is returning to Vharon,” he said, “with vengeance in her heart.”