(Almera's POV)
The bells rang once.
Then again.
Low, resonant chimes rolled across the palace like a summons the city itself could not ignore. From beyond the towering doors, I heard the murmur of thousands—courtiers, nobles, envoys, priests, merchants, and those who had come simply to witness history unfold.
My fingers curled slightly at my side.
This was no quiet harem ceremony.
This was a wedding meant to be seen.
The doors opened.
Heat washed over me—not oppressive, but alive. Sunlight poured into the ceremonial hall, reflecting off gold-veined marble and tall pillars carved with the symbols of Alessandria: the sun, the river, the scorpion crowned in flame.
Water flowed openly here, channeled through narrow streams that traced the floor, glistening like living veins. A deliberate display of wealth more powerful than any vault of gold.
I stepped forward.
Each footfall echoed.
Eyes turned.
I felt them before I saw them—the weight of countless gazes sliding over my skin, measuring, judging, envying. Women of the harem stood arranged along one side, dressed in finery that screamed status and rivalry. Some stared openly. Others smiled too sweetly. A few watched with cold calculation.
So these are the ears, I thought. And the knives.
I kept my chin lifted.
Dignity first. Always.
At the far end of the hall, beneath a canopy of woven gold thread, stood Romulus Alessander.
My breath caught despite myself.
He wore ceremonial attire of Alessandria—layers of dark fabric draped over his shoulders and waist, leaving his chest bare to the sun. Gold bands circled his arms. His golden hair was bound at the nape of his neck, catching the light with every subtle movement.
Golden-olive skin, kissed by the desert.
A body shaped by battle and command.
He looked every inch the tyrant emperor they feared.
And yet—his gaze was fixed solely on me.
As I approached, the hall seemed to narrow, the distance between us stretching and shrinking all at once. I was acutely aware of my own attire: silk that flowed like water, jewelry warm against my skin, the circlet resting upon my head—not a crown, but a promise.
When I reached him, the bells fell silent.
The High Priest stepped forward, robes white as bone, his voice carrying easily through the hall.
"Under the eternal sun and the watching sands," he intoned, "we gather to bind blood and empire."
Romulus extended his hand.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, I hesitated—not from fear, but from understanding.
This was the moment when everything became real.
I placed my hand in his.
His fingers closed around mine, firm and warm. Possessive—but not unkind.
The priest continued, reciting rites older than the empire itself. Words about unity, prosperity, and strength flowed past me like water. I focused instead on the subtle things: the way Romulus's thumb brushed once against my knuckles, the way his stance angled slightly toward me, as if shielding me from the eyes of the court.
A show.
But not an empty one.
"Do you, Almera Ashelet Constantine," the priest said, "enter this union by your own will, to stand beside the Emperor of Alessandria and uphold the covenant sworn today?"
I met Romulus's gaze.
Gold met steel.
"I do," I said clearly.
A ripple passed through the hall.
"And do you, Romulus Alessander," the priest continued, "claim this union and grant her place, protection, and favor within your empire?"
Romulus did not look away from me when he answered.
"I do."
The priest raised a hand. "Then by sun and blood, this bond is sealed."
Romulus leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"Do not tremble," he murmured. "They are watching for it."
"I'm not trembling," I replied just as softly.
His lips curved faintly. Approval.
He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles—not rushed, not restrained. The gesture sent another murmur through the court.
This was no concubine's acknowledgment.
This was favor made public.
As the bells rang again, louder now, I felt it settle over me—the invisible shift in how the room regarded me. Some eyes burned with resentment. Others with fear.
Serah's words echoed in my mind. After today, you will become a target.
Romulus turned slightly, guiding me to face the assembly at his side.
"Witness," he said, voice carrying effortlessly, "the joining of Constantine and Alessandria."
His arm settled at my back.
Enclosing.
Protective.
Claiming.
I stood beside him beneath the blazing sun, fully aware that this marriage was not an ending—but an opening move in a far more dangerous game.
And I would not be the first to fall.
The reception hall was an ocean of gold.
Light reflected from polished floors, gilded pillars, and flowing water channels that traced the length of the chamber like veins of life. Music—soft strings and low drums—hung in the air, steady and hypnotic, while servants moved with trays of wine and rare fruits gathered from across the empire.
I stood beside Romulus on the raised dais.
Very close.
Close enough that my fingers rested lightly against his arm, close enough that the warmth of his body seeped through silk and skin alike. It was deliberate. A performance.
I leaned into him just slightly, allowing my posture to suggest comfort—intimacy earned, not forced.
I felt eyes on us immediately.
Good.
Romulus's hand settled at my waist, firm and unmistakable. Not restraining. Claiming.
"This is where the real ceremony begins," he murmured under his breath, lips barely moving.
I kept my smile serene. "I assumed as much."
The first of the councilors approached.
Raem Khadir stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate respect. He bowed—not deeply, but precisely.
"Your Majesty. My lady." His gaze shifted to me, sharp but not unkind. "I am Raem Khadir, Grand Vizier of the Sun Throne and Head of the Inner Council."
"I am honored," I replied smoothly.
"The empire will be watching you closely," he said. "Some with hope. Others with ambition."
Romulus chuckled softly. "Choose your words carefully, Raem."
Raem's lips curved. "Always, Your Majesty."
One by one, they followed.
Members of the Inner Council first—generals, treasurers, masters of water and trade—men and women whose influence shaped the empire's spine.
Then the Outer Council—nobles, governors, and representatives from conquered lands. Their bows varied in depth. Their smiles varied in sincerity.
I noted everything.
The ones who avoided my eyes.
The ones who stared too long.
The ones who smiled while their hands clenched.
Romulus leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"Look closely," he whispered, intimate enough to make it seem like a lover's murmur. "Use your eyes. Your ears. Learn who stands with us… and who merely pretends."
His thumb brushed once at my waist.
"Friends are rare here," he continued softly. "Enemies are patient."
I nodded imperceptibly.
Then, just as suddenly, he straightened.
"I will attend to a matter," Romulus announced. "Remain here."
His hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped away.
The effect was immediate.
The space beside me felt colder.
And the harem moved in.
Several concubines approached almost at once, their expressions carefully arranged. These were the clever ones—the women who understood that favor was a currency best exchanged politely.
"Welcome, my lady," said one with dark hair and calculating eyes. "I am Concubine Lyris. It is an honor."
"Your beauty does you credit," said another, Mireya, her tone warm but her gaze sharp. "We look forward to… learning from you."
I smiled. "I hope we will get along."
Some smiles tightened.
Others widened.
But not all approached.
Across the hall, I felt it—hostility so sharp it might have drawn blood.
A woman stood slightly apart from the others, draped in deep crimson silk, jewels heavy at her throat. Her posture was relaxed, confident. Her gaze never left me.
It was not curious.
It was territorial.
Before I could ask, a soft voice spoke beside me.
"My lady."
I turned to find a young woman standing hesitantly at my side. She was pale, her hands clasped tightly together, eyes downcast.
"I am Nahla," she said quietly. "If… if it pleases you."
Her voice trembled, but there was sincerity there. No calculation.
"It pleases me," I replied gently.
Relief flickered across her face.
She leaned closer, her voice barely audible. "Please be careful."
"Of whom?" I asked, though I already suspected.
Nahla's eyes darted briefly toward the woman in crimson.
"Concubine Zafira," she whispered. "She holds the most power in the harem. For now."
I followed her gaze subtly.
Zafira met my eyes and smiled slowly.
Predatory.
"She was favored," Nahla continued, "before you arrived. Many still answer to her."
I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the warning.
"Thank you," I said. "You've done me a kindness."
Nahla swallowed. "I… I think you may survive here."
That, more than anything else said that day, made my heart steady.
Across the hall, Zafira raised her cup in a mock toast.
The game had begun.
And this time, I was not walking into it blind.