The bathing chamber Shithal entered was a masterpiece of extravagance, a sanctuary sculpted for royalty. Every inch of the room exuded opulence, from the towering marble pillars to the shimmering gold inlays that traced intricate patterns along the walls. The air carried the faint scent of jasmine and rose, mingling with the warmth of the steaming bath that awaited her.
The walls were a mesmerizing blend of polished marble and rare gemstones, each slab reflecting candlelight in soft, golden hues. Sapphire and onyx accents gleamed beneath the flickering flames, adding depth to the already breathtaking display. The floor, made of heated ivory stone, sent a soothing warmth through her bare feet, guiding her toward the heart of the chamber—the bath itself.
A grand circular pool, its edges lined with pure gold, sat beneath the most exquisite chandelier ever crafted. It cascaded like a waterfall of crystal and diamonds, each delicate piece catching the light and scattering fragments of color across the room. The water shimmered with infused oils, reflecting the grandeur above, its surface occasionally disturbed by the floating petals of rare blooms gathered from distant lands.
Velvet-draped seating rested along the walls, adorned with handwoven silks and cushions embroidered with golden threads. Tall silver candelabras stood at every corner, their flames dancing in perfect harmony with the soft glow of enchanted lanterns.
Near the pool, a table held an array of delicate glass bottles filled with exotic perfumes and elixirs, their scents meant only for one as regal as Shithal. Every detail of the room—the carved ceiling, the pearl-encrusted mirrors, the artistry in the very air—was an ode to perfection. A bath not just for cleansing but for indulging in the essence of royalty itself.
The grand chamber shimmered in golden candlelight, casting a soft glow upon the exquisite chair where Shithal sat, her silk robe cascading over its plush surface. The maids moved with silent precision, preparing her bath with fragrant oils and warm water, their hands trembling under the weight of their duty.
Shithal watched them with a cold, expectant gaze. Every movement had to be perfect. Every detail, flawless. But then—disaster. A maid, her hands unsteady, knocked over a delicate glass vial of scented oil, spilling its precious contents onto the marble floor.
The silence that followed was deafening. The other maids froze in horror, their eyes darting between the trembling girl and their mistress. Shithal's lips curled in disdain as she rose from her chair, her movements slow yet deliberate.
"You dare make such a blunder in my presence?" Her voice was dangerously soft, laced with venom.
The maid fell to her knees, her eyes glistening with tears. "Forgive me, Your Grace. It was an accident—I beg you—"
Shithal's expression did not waver. With a flick of her hand, she summoned the guards stationed outside. "Take her," she commanded, her tone void of mercy.
The maid sobbed, clutching at the hem of Shithal's robe. "Please, I beg you! I will never—"
"Silence."
The guards pried the wretched girl from the floor, dragging her away as her cries echoed through the chamber.
Shithal turned back to her bath, her face impassive. "Let this serve as a lesson," she murmured, sinking into the warm water.
The scent of roses filled the air, masking the lingering scent of fear.
The warm water rippled as Shithal sank deeper into the scented bath, steam curling around her like a veil. Her long, raven-black hair fanned across the surface, framing her face in a hauntingly beautiful way. The golden tub shimmered under the dim candlelight, casting an ethereal glow upon her flawless, porcelain skin.
"Leave us," she ordered, her voice as smooth as silk but as sharp as a dagger. The maids scurried out, leaving only Xioli, her most trusted servant.
Xioli stepped forward, a devoted smile stretching across her lips. "Oh, my lady… this is what you were meant for." She knelt by the tub, her delicate fingers dipping into the water, tracing idle patterns across the surface. "Look at you. Such perfection. Such beauty. Compared to you, that Ruby was nothing more than filth. A mere insect."
Shithal's lips curled, and then, she laughed—a cruel, haunting sound that sent a chill through the air. She tilted her head back, her eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.
"Ruby," she murmured, the name rolling off her tongue like a curse. "Such a fool. So devoted, so valiant, and for what? In the end, her life amounted to nothing. A meaningless existence, snuffed out like a dying flame. And that child…" A wicked smirk played on her lips. "Her unborn child never even had a chance to take its first breath."
Xioli's gaze burned with devotion as she nodded. "Even though she was the legitimate daughter, what did it matter? In the end, you took what was rightfully yours."
Shithal's nails scraped against the rim of the tub. "Yes… I took it all." Her voice dropped into a whisper, thick with venom. "King Arthro, the man she foolishly loved, the man she was willing to fight for… he belongs to me now."
A dark chuckle rumbled in her throat as she leaned forward, her wet skin glistening under the candlelight. "Do you know, Xioli, how many times Arthro and I lay entangled in the very bed Ruby once called hers? How often his hands worshiped this body while she was away, leading armies like the warrior she prided herself to be?" Her voice dripped with mockery. "That battle-hardened body of hers was never meant to please a man. She could never compare to me. To my softness, my beauty… my power over him."
Xioli's expression darkened with amusement. "And yet, she rots in hell, knowing that the man she sacrificed everything for was nothing more than a puppet in your hands."
Shithal threw her head back, another cold laugh spilling from her lips. "A pawn," she corrected. "That's all she ever was. A foolish, disposable pawn." Her fingers trailed over her bare shoulders, reveling in her triumph. "And now… she is nothing."
The water sloshed as she leaned back, her laughter echoing through the chamber. Ruby was dead. Her child was dead. And Shithal… Shithal reigned.
The scent of jasmine and vanilla lingered in the steamy air as Xioli gently massaged the luxurious, high-end soap over Shithal's smooth skin. Her delicate fingers traced along Shithal's arms, down her back, and over her slender legs, working up a foamy lather that glowed under the dim candlelight. The warmth of the bath wrapped around her like a silken embrace, soothing her muscles and making her sigh with pleasure.
As the water cooled, Shithal tilted her head back, letting Xioli pour a final stream of scented water over her, washing away the remnants of soap that clung to her glistening skin. The delicate droplets rolled down her curves, shimmering in the light like tiny pearls before disappearing into the bath. With a graceful motion, she stood, stepping out of the large marble tub.
Xioli handed her a robe—thin, silky, and barely concealing her form. The sheer fabric clung to her damp skin as she tied it loosely at the waist, allowing glimpses of her bare shoulders and collarbones to show through. Her raven-black hair cascaded in waves, droplets of water soaking into the delicate material. She exuded effortless elegance, her beauty both ethereal and dangerously alluring.
Just as she adjusted the robe, a firm knock echoed through the chamber doors. Xioli stiffened, eyes flickering toward the entrance.
"The King has arrived," a voice announced from the other side.
Shithal's heart leaped in her chest. Joy surged through her veins, chasing away the lingering coolness of the bathwater. He was here. Without a second thought, she turned, her bare feet making soft, hurried sounds against the polished floor as she moved toward the adjoining chamber.
The doors opened, and there he stood.
King Arthro.
The golden embroidery of his dark robes glistened under the candlelight, his presence radiating power. His sharp, captivating gaze locked onto her, taking in her damp body, the silk robe clinging to every curve. His expression darkened, lips parting slightly as an unreadable emotion flickered across his features.
Shithal barely had time to catch her breath before he moved.
In a single, fluid motion, he crossed the distance between them, his strong arms wrapping around her waist. He pulled her against him, pressing her wet form to the warmth of his chest. She gasped, hands instinctively resting against the hard planes of his body.
"You naughty woman," he murmured, his voice deep and laced with desire. His fingers traced the damp fabric at her waist, tugging it slightly. "I want you."
Heat coiled in her stomach as his breath fanned against her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. The intoxicating scent of him—rich sandalwood, musk, and a hint of something darker—filled her senses, making her head spin.
Shithal smirked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "Then take me, My King."
A wicked grin touched his lips before he leaned in, sealing her fate with a kiss that burned hotter than the bath she had just left.
Shithal traced delicate patterns on King Arthro's broad chest, her nails skimming over his skin as she nestled closer to him beneath the heavy velvet sheets. The embers of the grand fireplace flickered, casting their intertwined bodies in a soft golden glow. The air was thick with the lingering scent of passion, yet her mind was elsewhere.
"My king," she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "When will you give me the title of queen?"
Arthro, his fingers idly playing with the silken strands of her hair, exhaled deeply. His gaze darkened, not with anger, but with contemplation. He was silent for a moment before responding, his voice firm yet laced with a hint of weariness.
"You know the war for the throne has only just ended, Shithal," he said, his thumb grazing her cheek. "The court remains unsettled. Ruby's death… it has left wounds that are yet to heal."
At the mention of her name, Shithal stiffened. Ruby—the legitimate daughter, the one whose bloodline held weight in the court's eyes. The one Arthro had slain to claim his rule.
Arthro continued, his voice quieter now. "The nobles stay silent for now, but they have not sworn their loyalty. I am a bastard-born who seized the throne through bloodshed, and you—" he hesitated. "You are mistress-born, Shithal. The court vehemently opposes the idea of making you queen."
Shithal's grip on his chest tightened slightly, though her expression remained serene. "Are you telling me they dictate your rule, my king?" she asked, her tone teasing yet edged with something sharper.
Arthro chuckled lowly, but there was little amusement in it. "I am saying that my strength is not yet absolute. If I name you queen now, it would be seen as an act of defiance, one that could stir rebellion when I am still consolidating my power. I will not risk losing what I have fought for."
Shithal lowered her gaze, her fingers now still against his chest. She understood the political intricacies of the court, understood the weight of bloodlines and legitimacy. Yet, she was not a woman content with mere understanding.
Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. "No matter if I bear the crown or not, you say I am the only one in your heart?"
Arthro cupped her chin, his grip firm but adoring. "Always."
She nodded slowly, as though she accepted his words. But deep inside, she was telling herself—I have to be queen.
A mere mistress, no matter how favored, would never hold true power. And Shithal was not a woman who would live in another's shadow, not when she had fought just as hard to stand by Arthro's side. If the court despised her now, then she would give them no choice but to accept her.
She lifted herself slightly, draping her arms around his neck as she brought her lips to his. This kiss was different—not soft and lingering, but fierce, demanding. She poured all her desires, her ambitions, into it. And Arthro, though taken aback for a moment, responded with equal fervor, his grip tightening around her waist.
When they finally pulled apart, her breath was warm against his lips. "Then let's have a baby, Arthro."
His eyes widened, caught between surprise and understanding. A child—an heir—would bind her to the throne in ways no mere title could. The court could deny her a crown, but they would never deny the mother of the future ruler.
Arthro's expression shifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You are dangerous, Shithal."
She tilted her head, her smile laced with mischief and something far more calculated. "And yet, you love me."
He let out a deep chuckle, rolling her beneath him as the fire crackled in the silence. "That I do."