Chapter LXXI: Royal
Prince Damian, his entourage, and the king gathered for dinner in the opulent gardens of the harem. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the aroma of rich foods, and the king's concubines danced gracefully for them. They wore thin see-through dresses that barely covered their bodies, their movements both mesmerizing and elegant. The soft hum of a lute accompanied their performance, adding a soothing melody to the night.
As Damian watched the scene, he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine. "It’s quite impressive," he remarked, "it never ceases to amaze me how you’ve managed to turn chaste princesses into such obedient whores."
The king laughed, a deep, resonant sound. "It takes skill, my brother," he replied, his eyes gleaming with pride.
Damian smirked, glancing around the garden. "Yet, I notice your favorite girl isn’t here. Where is she?"
The king leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "My favorite one is the favorite for a reason," he said, his tone possessive. "She is all to myself."
Damian chuckled, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "She is indeed different from the others," he mused. "She still has something noble, something royal about her, doesn’t she?"
The king’s expression softened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "She does," he admitted.
Damian nodded, his gaze returning to the dancers. "It must be quite a challenge, keeping someone like her in line."
The king nodded, a touch of pride mingling with his amusement. "Isabella has a fire in her that sets her apart. She’s a queen in spirit."
Damian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A queen in spirit, you say? Interesting choice of words. Are you sure she’s not planning to reclaim more than just your heart, brother?"
The king’s smile faded slightly, a hint of seriousness in his eyes. "I keep a close watch on her, Damian. I always make sure she knows her place."
Damian leaned back, satisfied with his brother’s answer. "Well, let’s hope she remains content with that, then. I’d hate to see another war break out. Especially because of a teenage girl."
The king’s laughter returned, though it was tinged with a touch of unease. "No need to worry, brother. I have her under control."
Prince Damian's eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned closer to the king. "Then tell me, brother, would you mind sharing Isabella?"
The king’s expression hardened instantly. "She’s off-limits, Damian."
Damian chuckled, not easily deterred. "You do treat her like a queen, don’t you? I remember you never cared about sharing Dara, and she used to be your favorite."
The king’s grip tightened on his goblet. "Isabella gave me a son. She holds a higher place in my respect for that."
Damian leaned back, a sly smile playing on his lips. "What I think, brother, is that you’re going soft. You like having her play queen under your nose, despite being the heiress of a traitor."
The king’s eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his composure. "Mind your words, Damian. Isabella did not inherit her father’s crimes, her father is as dead as his crown. And she is, above all else, the mother of my son."
Damian chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You’re in love with the Allendorian princess, aren’t you?"
The king's jaw clenched. "That’s none of your business, Damian."
Damian leaned in, lowering his voice but keeping the teasing lilt. "It’s obvious, brother. You’ve fallen for her. A princess whose kingdom you conquered. It's almost poetic." The king’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. "Admit it," Damian pressed. "You’re in love with Princess Isabella."
The king’s gaze hardened, but a flicker of something softer crossed his face. "Love has nothing to do with it. She gave me an heir, and she’s earned her place."
Damian laughed outright. "You’re fooling no one. Not me, not your courtiers, and certainly not yourself."
The king’s eyes burned with a mixture of protectiveness and anger. "What is your point, Damian?"
Damian's eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned forward. "She’s beautiful. I think she's the prettiest one you ever had around here. I just want to know what she feels like. You got her pregnant, after all. Can you blame me for my... Curiosity? Unless, of course, you actually love her like a wife instead of a whore."
The king's grip on his goblet tightened, the metal threatening to bend under the pressure. He forced himself to remain calm, though his voice was edged with barely contained anger. "Fine, you want her? We can share her for a few nights—but only if she agrees to. I forbid you to force yourself upon her and I won’t coerce her to do it."
Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the concession. "Very well, brother. I’ll respect her wishes, of course. But I must admit, I’m curious to see if she’ll refuse me."
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