The axe of judgment fell the moment Celeste stepped through the gilded archway. Whispers sliced through the air like blades, the weight of every scornful gaze pressing on her bare shoulders. Whore. Bitch. The words hissed from painted lips and venomous tongues.
Celeste clenched her teeth. Were they not all whores, too? Yet somehow, because she still bore the virgin's markings, they saw her as the greatest threat. The hypocrisy made her laugh bitterly under her breath. She hadn't even been here ten minutes, and already she was marked for death.
The harem was a jeweled cage filled with vipers. Dozens of women moved like living artwork—scaled, four-armed, feathered, glowing with unearthly beauty. She was only one more piece in the Emperor's collection, except she carried the cursed title that made her a target: Omega.
Bags of colored silk, stuffed with feathers, were scattered like thrones in the corners. Unsure what else to do, Celeste sank onto one, crossing her legs with deliberate indifference. If they wanted her to cower, they'd be disappointed.
The room, however, throbbed with hostility. Guards in black armor ringed the walls, their purple skin nearly swallowed by the shadows. Celeste studied them carefully. Guards meant doors. Doors meant exits. She would find a way.
She approached one of them, tilting her head with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Are we allowed to leave this room?"
The man's helm shifted slightly. "You must speak with Chief Jubal. The monitor on the wall." He dismissed her with a flick of his hand.
Celeste bit her lip, following the gesture until she found a strange console glowing faintly on the far side of the room. She touched it, fumbling with the unfamiliar technology.
"Having issues?"
The voice startled her. A young woman stood nearby, serene-faced, with almond-shaped eyes warm as lantern light.
Celeste flushed. "Afraid so. We didn't have things like this where I grew up."
The girl smiled, stepping closer. "No problem. I had trouble too, when I first arrived." She pressed her palm to the screen, and it beeped to life.
"Yes?" came a gruff male voice.
The girl stepped back, gesturing for Celeste to answer.
"Hi," Celeste said awkwardly, leaning toward the monitor. "I was wondering if… we're allowed outside?"
"Hold." The voice cut off.
The girl chuckled softly. "I'm Morena." She lowered her voice. "You're the Omega, right?"
Celeste stiffened. "My name is Celeste."
"Oh! Of course. Forgive me. That's all anyone has said about you." Morena's eyes glittered with mischief. "That the Emperor rescued you in the most dramatic, romantic fashion."
Celeste snorted. "If you call being hauled over a shoulder like a sack of grain romantic, sure."
Morena giggled. "You're funny. And beautiful. No wonder he noticed you. Don't let the others get to you. None of us has ever even seen an Omega before." Her gaze softened. "It's intimidating. That's why they lash out."
Celeste eyed her warily. "Do you… want the Emperor's attention too?"
Morena laughed so hard she wiped tears from her eyes. "Good heavens, no. None of us has been summoned since he ascended the throne."
Celeste blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Since last spring. Not once." Morena's voice turned conspiratorial. "We're leftovers from his father's reign. He could have resold us. Instead, he keeps us here… fed, clothed, ignored."
Celeste frowned, unsettled. "That doesn't make sense. Why buy more women then?"
"That's what everyone wants to know. Especially since the title of Empress is still unclaimed. Every woman here wants it. And now—" Morena's smile faltered. "Now you arrive. Beautiful. Pure. Omega. He carries you in like a prize, and suddenly every dream of theirs looks fragile."
The weight of it pressed on Celeste. No wonder the glares had been knives. "Well, they can relax. I have no interest in being his Empress—or his anything. I just want to get out of here and build my own life."
For a moment, Morena studied her with searching eyes. Then she nodded, shoulders loosening. "I believe you. I don't want the title either. Maybe that puts us in the same boat."
Celeste's lips curved faintly. "A friendly face would be nice. This place reeks of venom."
"Then, friends, we shall be." Morena's smile was genuine.
Warmth bloomed in Celeste's chest—unexpected, fragile, precious. She hadn't had a friend in years. Perhaps fate wasn't all cruelty.
The heavy door groaned open. Silence rippled through the chamber as a tall man strode inside, commanding the air without a word. Every concubine bowed. He ignored them, his eyes locking straight on Celeste.
Her pulse quickened. The Emperor's right hand. Chief Jubal.
Phase one, Celeste thought, squaring her shoulders. Let's see how far I can push.