The Princess' Harem
Chapter 55: Allies and Whispers

Chapter 55: Allies and Whispers

The drawing room of Elysia Palace was a study in elegance, its walls adorned with tapestries of silver and blue, its high windows letting in soft morning light that danced across polished oak floors.

Viana sat at the head of a long table, her ruby-red gown a careful choice—regal but approachable. Her blonde hair was pinned loosely, a few strands framing her face.

Across from her sat three noblewomen, their silks and jewels gleaming, their expressions a mix of deference and ambition.

Lady Seraphina of House of Tobias, with chestnut hair and sharp eyes; Lady Mirabel of House Thalren, blonde and soft-spoken; and Lady Elira of House Drayce, whose auburn curls and sly smile hinted at mischief.

They had requested this audience, claiming a desire for friendship—and something more.

"Your Highness," Seraphina began, her voice smooth as velvet, "we’ve long admired your grace and resolve. Elysia’s court can be... isolating for one so young. We wish to be your friends, your confidantes."

She leaned forward, her sapphire necklace catching the light. "And, if you’ll allow it, your eyes and ears among the nobles."

Viana’s fingers tightened on her teacup, her mind racing. Friendship was a rare offer in court, often laced with ulterior motives.

Yet information was power, and with Prince Arin’s threats—yet she should establish her harem soon—she needed allies.

"That’s generous," she said, her tone measured. "But friendship requires trust. Why me, and why now?"

Mirabel, her hands folded demurely, spoke softly. "You’re the future queen, yet you navigate court alone, save for your citizens—even your guards and tutor. We see your strength, but also your solitude. We can offer companionship—and truths others hide."

Elira’s smile widened, her eyes glinting. "The court is a nest of vipers, Your Highness. We know their secrets, their alliances, their scandals. As your informants, we’d share what we hear, no strings attached."

Viana raised an eyebrow, setting her cup down. "No strings? That’s hard to believe in Elysia."

Seraphina laughed, a low, genuine sound. "Fair. But our motives are simple: proximity to you elevates us. Your favor could open doors. In return, we give you the court’s underbelly."

Viana considered, her gaze flicking between them. Their offer was tempting, especially with Duke Callissto’s rumors about Viana circling. She needed to know who stood with him, who could be swayed.

"Alright," she said finally. "I’ll accept your friendship—and your information. But I expect honesty. Betray me, and you’ll find I’m not as soft as I seem."

The women nodded, their faces alight with satisfaction. Seraphina leaned back, sipping her tea.

"Then let’s begin. The nobles are restless. Count Gavren of House Sylvar is pushing for a tax hike on southern farmers, claiming it’ll fund border defenses. He’s lying—half the coin goes to his private coffers."

Mirable chimed in, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lady Corrine of House Lorne is bedding Count Thalion, despite her betrothal to House Veyre’s heir. It’s causing tension; Thalion’s wife knows and is plotting revenge."

Elira’s grin turned wicked. "And the ladies—oh, they’re a circus. Lady Isolde of House Marrow threw a fit at last week’s ball when her gown matched Lady Taryn’s. Now they’re feuding over seamstresses, splitting the court’s women into camps. Petty, but it’s distracting the older matrons from Prince Arin’s moves in his exile."

Viana’s interest sharpened at Arin’s name. "What moves?"

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed. "He’s been meeting with minor lords from the eastern marshes—men with no loyalty to the crown. They’re smuggling goods, possibly people, through Valendale’s borders. The noble whisper he’s funding a private militia, but no one’s caught him."

Viana’s stomach twisted, Rayne’s warning echoing. "Who’s closest to him?"

"Count Darius of House Kren," Elira said, twirling a curl around her finger. "He’s Arin’s shadow, handles his coin. If you want dirt, tail Darius. He drinks too much and talks when he’s deep in his cups."

The women continued, their voices a steady stream of secrets. Lady Veyre’s cousin was hoarding grain to inflate prices.

Lord Thalren’s bastard son was stirring rebellion in the slums. The court’s seamstresses were bribed to report on noblewomen’s private fittings, revealing alliances through shared tailors.

Viana listened, her mind cataloging names and motives, the web of court intrigue growing clearer. Seraphina’s precision, Mirabel’s quiet observations, and Elira’s gossip wove a vivid tapestry, each detail a potential weapon.

Hours passed, the tea growing cold. Viana’s head ached from the flood of information, but she pressed on, asking pointed questions: Who funded the eastern lords? Which ladies swayed their husbands’ votes?

The women answered eagerly, their eagerness betraying their hunger for her favor. By the time they rose to leave, Viana’s notebook—hidden beneath a silk shawl—was filled with scribbled notes, a map of Elysia’s power plays.

"You’ve given me much to consider," Viana said, standing. "Keep me informed, and you’ll have my ear. But discretion is key."

"Of course, Your Highness," Seraphine said, curtsying with the others. As they left, their silks rustling, Viana sank back into her chair, exhaustion settling in.

The court was a maze, and these women were her first true guides. But trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford—not yet.

She needed air, space to think. The palace gardens called, their quiet promise of solitude pulling her from the drawing room.

She slipped through the halls, Joel trailing at a respectful distance, his armor clinking softly.

The garden was a haven of blooming roses and ancient oaks, the afternoon sun casting dappled shadows. Viana chose a massive tree near a bubbling fountain, its roots forming a natural seat.

She settled there, pulling a romance novel from her satchel, but her eyes skimmed the words without focus.

Joel, ever nonchalant, dropped onto the grass beside her, his sword propped against the tree. "Long day, Princess?" he asked, his tone light but his dark eyes sharp.

"Too long," she murmured, closing the book. "Court’s exhausting."

He chuckled, stretching out, hands behind his head. "Better you than me. I’d rather fight bandits than nobles."

Viana smiled, the tension easing. Joel’s easy presence was a balm, his lack of pretense a stark contrast to the court’s scheming. Her eyelids grew heavy, the garden’s warmth lulling her.

Without thinking, she leaned toward him, her head resting on his shoulder. His armor was cool against her cheek, but his warmth seeped through, grounding her.

She drifted into a light sleep, the fountain’s murmur blending with her slowing breaths.

A leaf, caught by a breeze, settled in her hair, tangling in the strands above her forehead. Joel noticed, his hand pausing mid-air.

He leaned closer, his fingers brushing toward the leaf, his face inches from hers. His breath was steady, his brown hair falling slightly over his eyes, and for a moment, he seemed less guard, more man.

Viana stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find Joel’s face so close, his hand hovering near her hair. Her heart skipped, but she froze, pretending to sleep, her breath shallow.

The moment stretched, charged with unspoken possibility, until Joel gently plucked the leaf free, his fingers grazing her skin. He leaned back, resuming his casual sprawl, as if nothing had happened.

Viana kept her eyes closed, her mind racing. Joel’s nearness, his quiet care, stirred something new, a warmth that tangled with Eryndor’s spell, Rayne’s charm, and Arden’s steadiness.

The Love Percentage bar didn’t appear above Joel’s head, but its absence only deepened her confusion. She was drowning in feelings, and Elysia’s court was no safer than her heart.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.