City of Vlallas
(Thane)
Emperor Thane Rysling sat slouched behind his new desk, staring at a mountain of papers. It had only been weeks since his father's death, yet already the crown felt like a chain around his neck. His social life—gone. His freedom—buried. And with every decree, every petition, he feared losing himself to the title.
He dragged a calloused hand over his face and sighed.
"Oh dear, did your tutors never teach you how to sit properly?"
Thane's eyes flicked up. His mother swept into the chamber without knocking, her voice deceptively soft.
"Good morning to you too, Mother," he drawled. "What brings you here so early?"
Natira paced the room with feigned interest, straightening curtains, smoothing fabric. Thane watched her warily. That look in her eye meant trouble.
"Mother," he warned.
She sat across from him, folding her hands. "I've heard you haven't visited the harem."
Thane exhaled sharply. "What business is that of yours?"
"As Empress Mother, it is my duty to oversee the ladies of the harem and prepare them for your attentions. You need to take a wife, my son."
His brows rose. "I've barely warmed the throne, and you're already marrying me off?"
"You need an heir." Her smile was all innocence.
"Planning on me dying anytime soon?"
"Thane!" she snapped. Then, softer, "You are Emperor. Your duty is to your line. You cannot leave Vlallas without a successor."
He leaned back, stretching out his legs. "When I am old and fat, I'll worry about heirs. Right now, I have a kingdom on the verge of collapse. Forgive me if women are the last thing on my mind."
Natira huffed. "You are a man in his prime. You have urges, and better you spend them in the harem than elsewhere. That is why it exists."
"That harem was Father's," Thane muttered. "Forgive me if bedding his favorite women doesn't appeal."
Her eyes glinted. "Then perhaps a new addition is in order. Something fresh."
Thane plucked a paper from his pile and smirked. "If I want someone new, Mother, I'll find her myself. I don't need you—or anyone—doing my dirty work."
"Of course, of course…" she said, rising with suspicious cheer.
"Mother."
"I heard you, son," she sang, far too innocently, and swept out of the chamber.
Thane pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that look. His mother would do exactly what she pleased.
And she did.
Natira found Jubal stationed outside the harem. She approached with a smile. "Jubal, dear, would you be so kind as to visit the auction block this evening? Find something new. Exotic. My son needs proper motivation."
Jubal arched a brow. "Did His Highness approve this task?"
"Of course. He thinks it's a splendid idea, though he's too busy to say so himself."
Jubal clearly didn't believe her, but bowed anyway. "Yes, Mother Empress."
Natira's smile softened. "A mother's work is never done."