A sumptuous farewell party for the prince's concubines was held in the palace. They were supposed to head back to their families in two days.
The servants were running here and there preparing everything for the big evening. They were preparing decorations in the gardens. They hung flower garlands entwined with different flowers of all kinds of colors. They tangled them for hours. They lit lanterns made of colored glass. They covered the world in a colorful cloak. The air was filled with the delicious aroma of food being cooked.
Prince Ciaran was in his rooms preparing for his last evening in the company of his girls. He didn't like parties, but he had to say goodbye to them properly. He was more of a soldier, a warrior. Amaya was the same. Maybe that's why he liked her. She was not like most girls in Deira. However, she was not even born there.
Ciaran came out of his wardrobe, buttoning his shirt. Amaya was lying on his bed. She liked the view of his worked-out chest.
"I should put a bell on you so you can't sneak in," Ciaran joked.
"Trust me, I could do it with it anyway," Amaya replied.
"You shouldn't look at me like that, little goddess. I could interpret it as you not hating me," said Ciaran.
"I never said I hate you, I'm just saying the two of us will never be friends," Amaya said. "And I wouldn't look at you like that if you buttoned up that shirt."
"Is it distracting you?" Ciaran walked over to the bed and rested his shoulder on its carved post. "Do you have sinful thoughts, little goddess?"
"Constantly," she grinned.
Ciaran climbed onto the bed to her. His powerful body towered over her. With a gentle touch, he pushed her hair away from her eyes.
"We could ditch the party and stay in bed all night," Ciaran said, nonchalantly biting his bottom lip.
"I won't rob your wonderful concubines of their last moments with you," Amaya said with a mischievous smile gracing her lips. "Maybe you'll like one of them after all."
"I don't think I could have liked any of them if it hadn't happened now," said Ciaran. "And anyway, I already have my bride."
Ciaran leaned towards her, but Amaya stopped him before their lips touched. Instead of unbuttoning the few buttoned buttons on his shirt, she buttoned the remaining ones.
"You should get ready for your big night," she told him.
"Our big night will be our wedding night," Ciaran replied, a fleeting smile adorning his lips.
"Don't expect anything more to happen between us that day just because we were forced into the marriage," Amaya reminded him.
"I don't expect anything," defended Ciaran. "I just think you'll be madly in love with me by then."
"Never." Amaya laughed.
"You say that word too often for it to have any meaning," Ciaran smirked.
Amaya rolled her eyes. "Have you found out who put that snake in my bed yet?" she distracted him from herself.
Ciaran looked at her inquisitively for a brief moment. "I'm sure the royal guards did it, but they won't admit it," he finally said. "They have orders to stay as far away from you as possible."
"So that's why they don't follow me like a shadow anymore."
"Now they're just making sure you don't run away."
"I think they're guarding you too so you don't run away," Amaya said back.
Amaya pushed Ciaran aside. He rolled onto his back. They were both looking at the heavens of the bed. Constellations were depicted on them.
"Will you keep me company at the party today, little goddess?" Ciaran asked her.
"Then will I have the same right to leave as the other concubines?" she answered with a question.
"You are my bride, would you like to leave?" he answered her question.
"Trust me, you don't want me to be your wife, little prince," Amaya told him.
"You're making it hard for me, Amaya, because the longer you're here the more I want you," Ciaran said. "You have no idea what I dream of doing with you."
"Then tell me," Amaya urged.
"I'd much rather show you."
He gently ran his fingertips over her calf. He didn't take his eyes off her. Their eyes were absorbed into each other. Amaya's heart pounded in her chest. Every beat reverberated through her entire body. Its beating drowned out everything. She held her breath. Ciaran slowly caught her under the knee and pulled her sharply to him. Amaya giggled lightly. A hint of a smirk flickered on Ciaran's lips. A predatory spark shone in his eyes.
Amaya knew she should stop it right then and there, but she allowed him every touch. Even when he kissed her neck. His teeth gently ran over her sensitive skin. He bit her gently. A soft moan escaped Amaya's lips.
At that, General Marcellus flew into the room.
"What's taking you so long? Your ladies are already waiting for you," he said.
Amaya jerked away from Ciaran. She stood up from the bed and stepped back. She was blushing. When the general noticed how close to each other they were, he turned around.
"I'm sorry," said the general. "I didn't mean to disturb."
"It's OK. I was already on my way out." Amaya said and disappeared into her rooms.
The general turned to his prince. "She doesn't seem to be that impregnable," he grinned.
Ciaran put his head down on the bed. He sighed deeply. "I think I'm going to kill you, Marcellus," he said.
Amaya dived into her closet. She decided to show up at the farewell party with his concubines after all. Even though she didn't wear dresses, she had more than enough. There were dresses of all kinds of cuts and colors hanging on hangers. After a long time rummaging through them, she finally chose a black dress embroidered with golden flowers. In front, they were short to mid-thighs and in the back, there was a long train.
She chose them for two reasons, they matched Ciaran's gold and black suit perfectly and showed off the markings adorning her body nicely.
"The prince will definitely be happy to see you, miss," Mareena said as she braided her hair. "He might be trying to hide it, but he likes you. Everyone noticed."
"He's just nice and attentive," Amaya said. "He was dragged into the marriage involuntarily just like I was."
"Trust me, he's not nice just because he has to be. I've known the prince for a long time, miss, and no one has ever been able to make him do something he didn't want to do," said Mareena. "You must have impressed him."
Amaya involuntarily smiled at her words.
"Tell me, Mareena," Amaya said. "Prince Ciaran is not exactly King Mael's favorite son. How is it possible that as an illegitimate descendant, he still got the title of prince and rules this place?" she wondered.
"It was his grandfather, the former King Darius, who saved Prince Ciaran and gave him all this. Therefore, His Highness is not like his siblings. King Mael can no longer take his position from him. That's why he keeps sending the prince into battles, hoping to get rid of him." Mareena revealed to her. "Most of the kingdom would want him as king. He would make a good king."
At her words, Amaya remembered how she felt about the prince when they first met. She feels it every second with him. Death haunts him. Keres goes for him.
However, she could not reveal this to anyone.
"There are ways to become a king," Amaya said. "Fate is unpredictable."
As Amaya walked down the hall, Zariah stopped her. She tore her aside, away from prying eyes and ears.
"Where are you going dressed like this?" she stared at her uncomprehendingly.
"To the party," Amaya replied.
"You're starting to like it here too much, Amaya," Zariah chided her.
"No, Zariah," Amaya objected. "I just don't plan on sitting in my chambers all day waiting for something to change."
"You're not even trying to run away," Zariah said.
"Trust me, if there was a way out I would be gone by now but for now I just have to rely on the goodwill of the prince to protect me from the royal guards trying to kill me," Amaya said irritated. Zariah's reproaches were beginning to annoy her. "But you didn't find a way out either. So excuse me Zariah, but I'm going to enjoy myself and you can talk about how horrible this place is for now." she walked around her and disappeared around the nearest corner.
Intoxicating music wafted through the gardens. The sweet melody of string instruments wafted through the air. The colored glass of the lanterns covered the landscape in an iridescent cloak. Their glow cast red, blue, purple, green... shadows. They mingled with the fading rays of sunlight. The sweet scent of flowers and delicious food filled the air. There were silver trays full of cakes, roast meat and fruit on the tables. Richly decorated pillows and blankets were spread out on the grass, on which the harem girls sat and enjoyed the atmosphere.
Prince Ciaran was under siege by concubines. They all wanted to dance with him and he, being a gentleman, could not refuse any of them. It was their night and he was to fulfill all their wishes.
Amaya watched from behind as his girls didn't give him a breather. He hadn't danced with one yet, another one was already pressing on. She found it amusing how they vied for his attention. At the same time also suspicious. Either the prince lied to her or he really wasn't interested in any of them.
"Jealous?" came the general's voice behind her. She turned to him.
"No," she replied. "Should I have a reason?"
"After what I saw today?" he gave her a look that challenged her to deny it.
"That was a spur of the moment," Amaya said.
"Then why are you in such a bad mood?" General Marcellus asked her.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You're evasive."
"Zariah scolded me for liking it here too much in Hiraeth," Amaya answered truthfully.
"We can send her away if she's causing trouble," suggested the general.
"That won't be necessary just yet, General Marcellus," Amaya said.
"But if you need it, I'm ready to help," said General Marcellus.
"I'll remember that." she gave him a fleeting smile.
Someone tapped Amaya on the shoulder. She expected that when she turned around, she would see him, but her expectations were disappointed by the sight. In front of her stood a girl with hair the color of fire. Freckles decorated her face.
"It's a great honor to finally meet you, Miss Amaya," she said.
Amaya noticed out of the corner of her eye how General Marcellus smirked at her side. She felt like elbowing him right in the ribs.
"Nice to meet you too..."
"Drea. My name is Drea." an unknown girl from the prince's harem introduced herself. "I come from a small village on the border of Amorite. I was kidnapped shortly after the war began."
Drea gave General Marcellus a murderous look and Amaya laughed.
"How do you explain that, General?" she said with a mischievous smile.
The general raised his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. "It's not my orders, nor Prince Ciaran's," he said. "Aim your anger at King Mael."
"Miss Amaya, I don't want to leave," Drea told her. "I would like to remain at your service."
"I'm sorry, but Prince Ciaran rules here. That decision is up to him," Amaya said.
"What decision is up to me?" Prince Ciaran appeared at their beck and call and wrapped his arms around Amaya's waist. He rested his head on her shoulder.
"Drea would like to stay," Amaya told him.
"Why?" the prince asked her in confusion. "Don't you want to see your family again?"
"My family is wonderful, but they are farmers and I have no future there, Your Highness," Drea replied. "It would be a great honor for me to remain working in the service of one who has been blessed by the gods."
"What do you want, Amaya? I'll do whatever you say," said Ciaran.
"I want her to stay," Amaya said. "It will be nice to have someone other than Zariah here. Especially someone who won't mistake me for a witch."
"In that case, it will be as you say." Ciaran turned his gaze to Drea. "Welcome to our services, Drea."
A wide smile bloomed on her lips. "Thank you very much. Thank you. Thank you." she kept repeating. "I swear I won't let you down."
"Will you dance with me, Amaya?" Ciaran offered her a shoulder. "After all, we have to show how perfectly we match each other."
"I chose that dress on purpose," Amaya said, accepting his shoulder.
"You want to show everyone that I'm all yours, little goddess?" Ciaran smirked.
"Perhaps." she gave him a mischievous smile.
"If you want me to be yours, just say it," he whispered gently in her ear.
Ciaran grabbed Amaya by the waist and pulled her closer to his body. They were only centimeters apart. Even through the space between them, she could feel his heart beating in his chest. It was as uncertain as hers. Her breath trembled. Prince Ciaran stepped to the beat of the slow tune and Amaya followed his steps. Everyone present watched them carefully. They were following a witch who was stealing their prince's heart.
But what if he was actually stealing hers?