The Princess' Harem
Chapter 56: Gifts and Burdens

Chapter 56: Gifts and Burdens

The garden’s peace lingered as Viana finally opened her eyes, the pretense of sleep no longer needed. Joel was still beside her, gazing at the fountain, his expression unreadable but his posture relaxed.

The leaf he’d removed lay on the grass, a small reminder of the moment that had passed. Viana sat up, smoothing her gown, her cheeks warm.

"Thanks," she mumbled, gesturing vaguely at her hair.

Joel shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn’t want you looking like a forest sprite, Princess."

She laughed, the sound easing the tension, but her heart still raced. Joel’s nonchalance was disarming, his quiet loyalty a contrast to the court’s scheming and the memory of Eryndor’s intense gaze the night before.

She tucked the moment away, another thread in the tangled web of her emotions, and rose, brushing grass from her gown. "I should get back. Duty calls."

He stood, grabbing his sword. "Always does. Lead on."

The palace halls were quieter now, the afternoon giving way to evening’s hush. Viana’s mind churned as she walked, Joel and Reyes trailing.

The noblewomen’s informations had armed her with knowledge, but it also underscored her isolation. Seraphina, Mirabel, and Elira were allies, not friends, their loyalty tied to ambition.

Her chambers welcomed her with familiar comfort, the blue-and-gold decor soothing after the day’s intensity. She dismissed Joel with a nod, expecting solitude, but found her maids bustling within.

Three young women—Lira, with her quick hands; Mara, soft-spoken and meticulous; and Tessa, the youngest, with wide, eager eyes—stood around a collection of ornate wooden chests, their lids open to reveal a dazzling array of gifts.

Viana froze in the doorway, her heart sinking as Lira turned, her face alight with excitement.

"Your Highness!" Lira said, curtsying. "Count Lazarus sent these for you. They arrived this evening—such treasures!"

Viana forced a smile, her stomach twisting. Count Lazarus, her husband in her former life. His gifts, no doubt, were a calculated move—flattery laced with expectation.

She approached the chests, her ruby-red gown brushing the floor, and peered inside, her expression carefully neutral.

The first chest overflowed with jewelry: necklaces of sapphire and diamond, their gems catching the candlelight like stars; bracelets of woven gold, delicate yet heavy with wealth; and a pair of emerald earrings, their stones the size of quail eggs, set in intricate silver filigree.

The second chest held bolts of silk, their colors vivid—crimson, indigo, and a shimmering gold that seemed to glow. Each bolt was finer than anything in her wardrobe, their texture smooth as water under her reluctant touch.

The third chest was a miscellany of exquisites: a velvet-lined box containing a jade hairpin carved with dragons, a set of crystal goblets etched with roses, and a small, locked case that Mara said held rare perfumes from across the sea.

"They’re... stunning," Viana said, her voice steady but her smile strained. She loathed the gifts, not for their beauty but for what they represented: Lazarus’s attempt to buy her favor, to bind her to his agenda.

In her past life, such gestures had preceded endless tortures, and the memory made her skin crawl.

But her maids, oblivious to the politics, beamed with awe, and she couldn’t let her distaste show. They’d gossip, and word would reach Lazarus—or worse, Arin.

Mara lifted a sapphire necklace, its chain glinting. "This would look divine with your blue gown, Your Highness. Shall I set it aside for the next ball?"

Viana’s fingers twitched, itching to push the necklace away, but she nodded. "Yes, that’s a good idea. Thank you, Mara."

Her tone was warm, practiced, hiding the churn of her thoughts.

Tessa, holding a bolt of crimson silk, practically bounced. "And this silk! It’s from the eastern weavers, isn’t it? Imagine a gown from this—every lord would be speechless!"

Viana’s smile tightened, her jaw aching from the effort. "It’s exquisite," she said, her voice softer than she felt. "You’ve all done well arranging these. I’ll decide what to wear later."

She gestured to the chests, hoping to shift their focus. "Please catalog everything and store them carefully."

Lira nodded, already pulling out a ledger. "Of course, Your Highness. We’ll have it all organized by morning."

Viana stepped back, her heart pounding as she maintained her composure. The maids’ excitement was genuine, their chatter a hum of admiration for Lazarus’s generosity.

She couldn’t fault them—they saw only beauty, not manipulation. But each gem, each silk, felt like a debt she hadn’t agreed to.

Lazarus’s motives were clear: marry the future queen, secure influence. Or worse, he became the King himself, on behalf of Viana herself.

She excused herself, claiming fatigue, and retreated to her dressing room, where a small mirror reflected her strained expression.

She loosen her hair, setting it on a velvet cushion, and let her hair fall loose, the blonde strands a curtain against the world.

Her past life whispered warnings—gifts had been her downfall before, luring her into trust that shattered her kingdom. She wouldn’t let it happen again, but rejecting

Lazarus outright would signal weakness or suspicion. She’d have to play the game, accept the gifts publicly, and watch his moves.

Returning to her chambers, she found the maids still sorting, their voices bright. "The jade hairpin is my favorite," Tessa said, holding it up. "It’s so regal!"

Viana nodded, her smile a mask. "It’s lovely. You’re all dismissed for the night—thank you."

They curtsied, leaving the chests half-organized, and Viana locked the door behind them, her shoulders sagging.

Alone, she approached the gifts again, her fingers brushing the crimson silk. It was beautiful, undeniably, but it felt like poison.

She closed the chests, their lids thudding shut, and sank onto her bed, the silk nightgown she’d planned to wear forgotten.

Her past life had taught her love and trust were battlefields, and in Elysia, she was losing ground.

The balcony doors were open, the night air carrying jasmine, but no rustle came, no silver-haired elf appeared.

Viana sat by the window, a book unopened in her lap, staring at the moon.

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