Hierarchy

It takes three days to arrive at the Capital. Sabrina rides in the carriage alone; she prefers it this way. It gives her enough time to lay out a constructive plan before being placed in the palace. The Dragon King doesn't address her again. From time to time, she feels his gaze on her, but it is always fleeting. He is intrigued but not nearly interested enough to give her the time of day.

That won't work. She is meant to seduce him, to get him to bare his heart to her so she can use it against her enemies. She feels anxious but knows better than to try to push herself on him. Sabrina realizes she doesn’t know much about seduction. Fighting or leading a pack? That she can do. But seduction? Foreign waters.

But how hard can it possibly be? Men are men, after all, and Sabrina knows her worth. She is beautiful and fierce—docile, no—but she could try to be if that would please the Dragon. Hell, she could bat her eyelashes sweetly, like her sister used to do whenever she wanted something from their father. The father she had killed in cold blood. Anyway, she can manage things just fine by the will of the Moon Goddess.

The Dragon Castle is dark and gloomy, the castle walls painted a dull grey. It gives off a somewhat cold and depressing aura. It is easily the kind of place one could get lost in if they didn’t know their way around. She looks at the residence where she will be spending who knows how long. She isn't very thrilled about that.

A shadow falls over her. Sabrina can tell who it is just by the scent. The King smells like decaying metal—not that she’s ever smelt that before—but he also smells earthy, like running through the woods after a rainy day. It isn’t entirely unpleasant, just foreign.

“How do you feel about your new home?”

Temporary home, until she gets what she wants, of course. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s... new.”

The King hums in understanding. “Farewell for now, little Luna.” He retreats alongside his men, not looking back at her even once.

Not good, she thinks. It won’t be as easy as I thought.

When the King is out of sight, Sabrina is led forward by the blond man, Allen. His face is stoic, revealing little emotion, but she knows he doesn’t like her—not since she tried to maim his leader. The feeling is mutual. Sabrina doesn’t like any of these hot-blooded bastards either.

He leads her into the castle, and the interior proves far more luxurious than the exterior. Crystal chandeliers, paintings, and oak furnishings give the place an air of antiquity. She'd once heard that dragons preferred to live as though stuck in the Dark Ages—no technology, no cars. Standing here, she almost feels as if she has traveled back in time.

After climbing a flight of stairs, they arrive at a long hallway lined with doors.

“This is it,” Allen says, his voice strained and emotionless.

Two women stand nearby, dressed in simple gowns, their long dark hair framing delicate, pretty faces. They bow respectfully as Allen steps closer.

Sabrina’s wrist is suddenly seized in a rough grip. Before she can react, she’s yanked forward, stumbling, barely managing to keep herself from falling.

“The King’s new toy,” Allen mutters, his words dripping with disdain.

Without another glance, his footsteps echo as he stalks away, grumbling under his breath about peasant women and their tendency to get themselves skinned alive.

Yeah, he definitely doesn’t like her.

The women exchange looks, noting the harsh treatment. Usually, a lord wouldn’t dare treat the King’s woman in such a manner. This is the first time they’ve witnessed such a scene. Their new mistress must not be anyone special. She probably has no strong background to solidify her position as the King’s woman.

Despite their obvious distaste, the women help her stand and lead her to one of the rooms lining the corridor. It is decent enough—a large living space with the bedroom and living room combined. There’s even a shelf with books in the corner. No television, though. Not that it matters.

“My Lady, you must be worn out from the journey. I will heat you a bath,” says the younger of the two women before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. The other goes to the closet to sort out the customary clothing. Their mistress is new to the palace, meaning she is at the very bottom of the hierarchy.

There are over thirteen women in the harem. One holds the title of the main mistress, three are consorts, and the rest are courtesans. Most of them have never even bedded the King. To show their ranking, courtesans must wear certain colors on specific days. The consorts can dress as they wish, but only the main mistress can wear gold—it’s said to be the King’s favorite color.

Each time a new mistress is brought to the palace, her clothes reflect her status. Unfortunately, the closet is filled with dull-colored dresses—gray, brown, olive, and the like. Even the servant sighs in distress as she sorts through the clothing, picking out attire for the day. Her mistress will be introduced to the women over dinner tonight.

“My Lady, the bath is ready.”

Sabrina follows the woman. The bathroom is spacious and luxurious. Different brands of body wash, shampoo, hair products, and skincare items decorate the shelves. She doesn’t complain when the woman strips her of the too-tight, uncomfortable dress she has been wearing for the past three days. The King hadn’t commented on a change of clothes for her, even when they stopped at inns for the night. Without his command, nobody went out of their way to help her.

The water is soothing against her tired body. She could almost close her eyes and dream she’s back in her pack, with her friends, taking a dip in the river at night. Those were the fun times that made her heart clench whenever she thought of their betrayal. Those same friends had stood aside and watched her burn.

“What is your name?” Sabrina asks the woman washing her hair.

“Leyla, my Lady. My companion is Ellen. We are here to serve you for as long as you remain under the King’s protection.”

Protection? Is that what they’re calling it? The man had taken her to be his bitch; there was no protection involved.

The minutes pass in silence. Sabrina is like a robot, completely monotone as she lets herself be dried and prepped for whatever fate awaits her.

Leyla provides her with something light to eat, and then she and Ellen leave the Luna to herself. At exactly 7 p.m., they return to get her. This time, Sabrina is led to the dining hall. The other women are already seated. All eyes dart to her as soon as she walks in. Sabrina doesn’t make eye contact, but she doesn’t lower her head either. That would be too submissive, and she’s having none of that.

At first, nobody utters a word. They all stare at her scrutinizingly. Even Ellen and Leyla, standing behind her, begin to feel anxious. Finally, a beautiful brunette chuckles.

“I can’t believe it—all this fuss over a dog!”

Laughter echoes in the room. The other women whisper to each other, throwing disdainful looks at Sabrina.

“You’re right, Elisha,” says a woman with a slight Spanish accent, absently twirling the drink in her glass. She has dark hair cascading over her shoulders and piercing green eyes. Unlike the others, she isn’t dressed in dull clothing. Her red dress hugs her form enticingly, and gold jewelry accentuates her neck and ears. “I didn’t expect His Majesty to bring someone back, especially not a woman who looks so callous and smells like mud.”

The three women in colorful dresses hurl more insults at Sabrina. The others, clearly lower in status, eagerly support them, throwing flattering comments their way.

Sabrina watches in silence, her disgust mounting. These women had reduced themselves to fighting for a man’s attention. Pathetic.

It’s alright. She has no intention of vying for his attention. No, she’d prefer to play him instead. She’ll make him present his own heart to her on a silver platter. He will be hers to manipulate.

How she’s going to do that, Sabrina doesn’t know yet. But this is her only chance. For her father, she needs to make Alaric Valerion fall in love with her.