I stood frozen in the grand palace atrium, marble columns soaring like frozen clouds under torchlight that danced golden across mosaic floors depicting ancient emperors in triumph, the air thick with rose incense and distant feast murmurs from the banquet hall beyond.
My harem silks clung scandalously—sheer crimson draping low on hips with gold coin-belts jingling soft at every nervous shift, cropped gauze halter rasping raw nipples, high-slit pantaloons flashing thighs, thin sapphire veil framing only my eyes through gossamer weave, golden hair braided exotic with jasmine chains brushing bare midriff.
Knights milled at edges, gazes lingering curious on the exotic dancer, but my focus locked on Merol—my loyal secretary rushing forward, his gentle face etched worry lines, hair tousled from endless searches, simple scribe robes rumpled like he'd slept in them.
