The woman Miriam had spoken to waited just outside the harem quarters, her long auburn braids tied up in a silken wrap, her smile warm and strangely reassuring.
"I'm Jenna," she said, offering a slight bow of her head. "I remember what it's like, being taken from everything you knew. But it's not so bad after a while."
Seraya gave her a guarded nod.
"Do you mind if I ask… what happened?" Seraya said as Jenna handed her a folded towel and soft robe, still stiff with uncertainty.
Jenna's smile curved, tinged with memory. "Same as you, I'd wager. A princess, weren't you?"
Seraya nodded once.
"Fell to the might of King Malek's impressive army," Jenna continued lightly, her voice almost proud. "My father swore our mountain stronghold would never fall. Said the gods themselves blessed us." She laughed without humor. "Turns out the gods had a different favorite."
The acknowledgment of the king's military prowess drove a spear through Seraya's chest, and she turned her face away so Jenna wouldn't see the flicker of pain.
"That grudge you feel for him," Jenna said, guiding them down a corridor glowing with amber sconces, "It'll pass."
Seraya doubted that with every bone in her body.
"You'll see. Happens to everyone eventually." Jenna looked over her shoulder, her tone teasing but not cruel. "No one resists the God-King for long."
They entered a vast, steamy chamber. A skylight high above filtered in soft light through mosaic glass, coloring the steam in shifting hues. The in-ground bath stretched across the room like a jewel-toned lake, with soft mist curling over its surface. Other women lounged in the water or chatted in hushed tones, their laughter echoing gently.
Jenna untied her wrap and dropped her dress, unashamed, hanging it on a hook along with her robe. Her skin was unmarred, strong. At ease.
Seraya hesitated, then followed suit, her motions stiffer, the chill of exposure crawling up her spine despite the steam.
They stepped into the water together. It was warmer than she expected—soothing against her weary bones—and oddly grounding. A woven basket near the edge held soaps and oils. Jenna handed her a soft cloth and a cake of lavender-scented soap.
They waded to the far end of the pool where the water was quieter, the edge slightly raised like a seat. The other women didn't look twice at them, and Seraya was grateful. Still, she kept her gaze on Jenna's face, not yet accustomed to the closeness of other bare bodies.
The water soaked through her hair and loosened the grime and soot from her journey. It felt like she was washing away what remained of her fallen kingdom.
She wouldn't forget them. Not ever.
"Why does everyone call him the God-King?" Seraya asked softly, the question slipping out as she traced the edge of the washcloth along her arm.
Jenna lifted a brow. "Because he is. They say his bloodline was chosen by the gods themselves, back in the Age of Ruin. That his ancestors were given dominion over magic—to tame it, command it, and use it to build—or destroy."
"And he chose to destroy," Seraya murmured.
"He chose to survive," Jenna replied. "To rise. He can rip a mountain in half with a word. Call storms, bend shadows, command fire. And not just him—his brother too. Though that one is... trickier."
Seraya's brows furrowed. "So that gives them the right to take what they want?"
Jenna shrugged. "Why not? That's the way of the world. The strong survive. The weak kneel or die."
"But that's what separates us from beasts," Seraya said. "The ability to care for others, even the weak."
Jenna smiled faintly, a glint in her eyes. "Aren't we all weak compared to a god?"
The silence between them was thick and thoughtful. Seraya stared at the rippling surface of the water. The king's helmeted face flickered in her mind—not as the brutal conqueror, but as the man who had watched her so intently, who hadn't forced her, but hadn't let her go either.
He was her enemy. Yet now she lived in his palace, wore robes of his silk, would soon warm his bed. The thought made her stomach twist.
Her voice came out before she could stop it. "Have you ever been with him?"
Jenna blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes. Once."
Seraya felt her cheeks flush and dropped her gaze, unsure what she even wanted to hear.
Jenna's eyes went slightly dreamy. "He is… not what you expect. Kind, when he wants to be. Terrifying, always. But that night, I almost forgot the world outside existed."
A cruel voice sliced through the warmth like a knife.
"Keep fantasizing, Jenna. I doubt he'll come back for seconds."
They both turned.
A pale, elegant woman lounged across the far ledge of the pool, her smile too polished to be friendly. Beautiful—stunning, even—but beneath the surface shimmered something cruel. Seraya recognized a predator when she saw one.
As if sensing Seraya's judgment, the woman's eyes locked on her like a hawk sighting prey.
Seraya instinctively let her dark hair drift around her, a veil of wet silk between herself and that assessing gaze.
"Well, well. Another clueless little hopeful," the woman drawled. "Don't bother trying, dear. He's well cared for by his favorites."
"I don't want his favor," Seraya said flatly.
The woman's expression said otherwise—arched brow, knowing smirk.
"Of course you don't," she replied, voice thick with mock sympathy. "And I suppose you won't be sidling up to him either?"
"I wouldn't stoop so low."
That was the wrong thing to say.
The woman's laugh was sharp as glass. "You think you're above the rest of us?"
"Don't," Jenna warned under her breath. Seraya glanced at her. Was that fear in her voice?
"No," Seraya said, gaze steady. "But I won't crawl for him either. What are you, then? A favorite? A consort?"
For a fraction of a second, the woman's mask cracked. Fury flickered in her eyes before she schooled it away.
"If he had consorts," she said tightly, "then yes—I would be. And you, little girl, need to learn your place. At the very bottom."
"She didn't mean anything by it, Lady Vera," Jenna interjected quickly. "She just arrived. She doesn't know our ways yet. She's still… adjusting."
Vera's smile returned—tight, cold, and victorious. "Then I suggest she adjust. Fast."
With that, she stood. Water streamed down her flawless body as she stepped from the pool with the confidence of someone who expected the world to bow at her feet.
As the ripples settled and silence fell, Seraya exhaled slowly.
She'd just made her first enemy.
And she had a feeling Lady Vera wasn't the kind to forget a slight.