The 14th Concubine of a Harem King

Yfenia's Child

Lorora

The day of the ball arrives, and I adorn myself in a jade blue gown with black satin trimming. My cleavage is hardly existent, but Yalise found a corset with extra padding to make it look like something. Yalise curled some tendrils of my hair to tastefully frame my face while the rest settled in an updo. She used dark makeup to sharpen my normally dull grey eyes and make me almost look mysterious. I'm far from sexy but when I saw myself in the mirror I saw.... a woman. The first thing that comes to my mind is what Sayra will think when she sees me.
"Yalise," I say softly as I stare at myself in the mirror.
"Yes," she replies, smoothing the creases in my dress.
"What am I going to do?"
"About what?"
"About everything," tears well up in my eyes. "About Garnam, about my family here, about the kids back in Adran, about my feelings for Sayra? About this giant mess I've found myself in?"
She sighs deeply. "I don't know."
"If I was mother, what would you say to me?" I ask her.
She pauses. "You're much stronger than your mother," she says softly, brushing an extra tendril back from my face. "If this was your mother, I would tell you to run away from both palaces. I'd say kind women die in palaces. I'd tell her to run away with me before it's too late. But...." she wipes a quick tear from her weary eye. "You aren't Yfenia. All I can tell you is to be selfish. Use your father to get what you want. Reject those who mistreat and belittle you and embrace those who appreciate you. Neither this place nor Garnam's palaces have given you anything you didn't take yourself. So take what you want, use what you want and become who you choose."
"You tried to run away with my mother?" I ask.
"That's what you got from that?" She chuckles.
"Yalise... did you love my mother?"
She sighs. "Whatever I felt for your mother and whatever she felt for me was buried with her."
My heart freezes. So that's why she's so concerned about my feelings to Sayra. She went through this too, but she was Sayra in the relationship.
"But nothing I did was any use. I couldn't save her. Don't repeat our mistake. If you choose to walk this path, don't hesitate in fear like I did. Or you'll spend your lifetime regretting it." She steps back. "You look perfect now. Off you go."
I pause and turn back to her. "Thank you," I embrace her with every part of my being. "Thank you for loving my mother even after her death. Thank you for being my mother. And thank you for telling me this."
Her muscular body tremors a little.
"Yfenia's child is my child also," she says softly. "Always has been and always will be."

I enter the wide ballroom, and all eyes are on me as I descend the stairs. As usual, there were the annoyed glances, my sisters rolling their eyes, my father grinning from ear to ear, random brownosers with eager eyes and painted smiles. All things I'm used to as I enter the crystal chandelier lit main dancing floor. I search desperately for the one pair of eyes but I can't see them. My heart pounds rapidly. A sudden hush fills the air, and I turn around. Sayra just arrived.
"Um, her highness Princess Lorora's lady in waiting Aryas..." the announcer breaks off after getting his first glimpse of her. She's wearing a red rose patterned dress on black satin. It isn't low cut, but her ample cleavage won't be contained in a dress. The sleeves sit just off her shoulders, and her untamed red curls are tied up in a partial updo. Her shoes are green to match the leaves on her rose dress, and her arms are dangled with a few gold hoops. Her effortless beauty causes a hush to fall throughout the hall. My heart pounds in my chest. I'm jealous of all the eyes on her, but no one can hide her perfection. I pause in my steps to wait for her, and she rushes to my side, almost falling down in her shoes on the last step. But I catch her before anyone notices.
She flashes her genuine smile at me, and I melt. All my feelings of jealousy are gone. A hum fills the crowd, and everyone goes back to their business.
"Your dress and hair and everything is so beautiful, your highness!" She says to me. We scurry over to the snack table at the side of the ballroom.
"Not as stunning as you are," I reply honestly.
Sayra pauses to observe every detail of my gown and hair. "You're perfect, Ro," she says.
My soul warms my insides. That's what I wanted to hear since I first put on this dress. The music plays an upbeat little jig every dance hall knows from the small town barn party to our biggest castle. I take Sayra's hand, put down my plate, and drag her to the dance floor.
I'm in my home country as a married woman, who's going to be angry. I'm dancing with my lady in waiting instead of some green eyed merchant.
She dances along clumsily as I take the lead. Spinning her around and catching her fast. I can't help but laugh out of pure joy. Sayra smiles after she catches herself from almost falling. She blushes but continues to humor me. All the usual pretention of these gatherings starts to melt away, and I notice other girls dancing with their friends if a man did not ask to be their partner. Laughter fills the dance hall, and the evening goes on. I see to it that I eat as much as my corset will allow, and Sayra just follows my movements.
"You should stop drinking, Ro," says Sayra in my ear. "These people are very judgemental."
I chuckle. "Let them judge. I'm the embarrassing favorite of the king. The ugly duckling who married a man with 13 other wives. A few extra drinks in my own home won't do any more harm than my face already does."
Sayra frowns and snatches my wrist. "Come with me."