The Princess' Harem
Chapter 71: Returning to the Palace

Chapter 71: Returning to the Palace

Viana moved swiftly through the palace corridors, her cloak damp from the mist outside, the familiar scent of polished wood and burning lantern oil wrapping around her like an old memory.

The journey had been long, exhausting, and filled with more danger than she cared to recount in one breath. She had fought, planned, and survived.

Now, all she wanted was a moment—just one—to forget it all.

Joel and Reyes walked beside her, their boots silent against the marble floors, their presence steady but unspoken. Torren’s mercenaries remained behind, blending into the shadows near the servant’s wing, ensuring they would not draw unnecessary attention.

Shane had already disappeared into the city, slipping effortlessly between streets and alleyways, gathering whatever whispers might prove useful later.

For now, privacy was all Viana sought.

Her bedchamber was tucked deep within the royal wing—grand but not overly indulgent, designed more for solitude than display. She had always preferred it that way.

It had been her escape, her sanctuary from court politics and obligations, a place where she could shed the weight of her title, even if only for a fleeting moment.

The emerald-green tapestries lined the walls, embroidered with golden accents, a reflection of her status. The four-poster bed, larger than she needed, had once felt like the safest place in the world.

But tonight, it was only a refuge.

Sina was already waiting inside.

She stood near the windows, her hands folded in front of her apron, her sharp brown eyes softening the moment she saw Viana enter.

She had served Viana for years, tending to her every need, but more than that, she had been a confidante. She never treated Viana first as a princess, but as a person.

"You’re back," Sina said simply, though the quiet relief in her voice was unmistakable.

Viana barely managed a nod. She untied her cloak, letting it slip off her shoulders, the damp fabric pooling onto the chair beside the vanity.

Her muscles ached, and her movements felt slower than usual. She had pushed herself too hard, for too long, ignoring exhaustion in favor of duty.

Without hesitation, she sank onto the edge of her bed. The softness beneath her was jarring, far too luxurious after nights spent on rough terrain, damp soil, and wooden cots that did little to ease the fatigue.

She inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. The warmth of the palace seeped into her bones, a reminder that she was home. It should have comforted her.

It didn’t.

"I just want to rest," she muttered.

Sina hesitated before stepping forward, ever aware of Viana’s moods. "Sir Arden finished what you asked."

Viana’s eyes opened slightly, barely a flicker of interest passing through her expression. Arden, now her chief advisor, the man she had depended on to maintain order while she was away, had completed whatever task she had left him.

She didn’t care. Not now.

"Good," she said flatly, shifting against the silk sheets. "We can talk about it later."

Sina’s frown was slight, but she said nothing more. She knew when to push and when to let Viana be.

Joel leaned against the wall near the fireplace, arms crossed, his brown eyes watching her with an unreadable expression.

Reyes stood by the doorway, stiff, his jaw tight. He had been quiet since he came to the lodge, his frustration lingering, though Viana chose not to acknowledge it.

"You should sleep," Joel murmured. "You’re running on nothing."

"I know," Viana replied, voice heavy.

Reyes’s hand twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. He had done everything she asked—kept watch, fought at her side, remained loyal—but she had been distant. Detached.

She could feel his frustration from across the room, waiting for her to acknowledge what he had done, waiting for the praise she had not given.

She ignored it.

Tonight, she wouldn’t think about loyalty or duty or trust. She wouldn’t think about Kess or the Shadow Clan, about Arin or the overseer.

She wouldn’t think about strategies or battles, about the suffering she had witnessed, the weight of the world pressing against her ribs.

Tonight, she was only a princess. The girl she had been before she left.

She had the softest bed in Elysia. She had warm baths waiting, food prepared by the finest chefs in the palace. She had servants who would dress her in silks and arrange her hair with golden pins.

She could let go, even if only until morning.

Joel knew it too.

"Sina," Joel said, his voice shifting slightly, no longer guarded but lighter, almost amused. "Make sure she eats something before she sleeps."

"I will," Sina replied with a firm nod.

Viana sighed, kicking off her boots, letting them drop onto the floor without care. The weight of them had become unbearable, as if they carried the memories of every step she had taken beyond the palace walls.

Her fingers unfastened the clasps of her travel-worn tunic, and Sina was already stepping forward to help, her movements precise and practiced, the way they had always been.

Viana barely noticed. Her mind was hazy, overwhelmed, sluggish.

"Anything else, Princess?" Sina asked, folding Viana’s garments aside.

Viana shook her head. "No more conversations tonight. No planning. No reports. No updates."

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head, knowing better than to argue. Reyes, still stiff at the doorway, finally exhaled, his posture relaxing just slightly.

"Fina," Joel said, pushing off the wall. "Tomorrow, then."

Viana barely heard him. She had already pulled the blankets over her, sinking into the pillows, the warmth of the palace finally consuming her.

And for the first time in weeks, she let herself forget the outside world.

***

The morning light filtered through the ornate glass window of Viana’s chamber, casting soft golden hues across the polished marble floor. The scent of fresh bread and jasmine lingered in the air, a reminder of palace life—comfort, routine, familiarity.

Viana stretched under the heavy silk blankets, reluctant to leave the warmth of her bed. The previous day had been exhausting, and for a brief moment, she let herself pretend that all of it—Arin, the Shadow Clan, the looming threats—was just a drea,

She could lie here, hidden from the world, indulging in the luxuries she had once taken for granted.

But reality was impatient.

A soft knock at her door broke the silence.

"Your Highness," Sina’s voice came through gently. "Sir Arden is waiting in the library."

Viana exhaled, rubbing her temples. Of course he was. He never let unfinished tasks rest, always determined to deliver results as efficiently as possible.

Dragging herself out of bed, she slipped into a light green gown, the fabric flowing smoothly over her skin. Sina stood ready to fasten the clasps, her movements swift and practiced.

"You slept well?" Sina asked, her expression neutral, but her eyes searching.

"For the first time in a long time," Viana muttered.

Sina gave a knowing nod before retrieving a golden hairpin from a velvet case. She stepped behind Viana, pinning her long blonde hair into place with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

Once she was dressed, Viana moved through the corridors, her boots clicking softly against the polished floors. Guards nodded as she passed, palace attendants scurrying to their tasks, the rhythmic pulse of court life as steady as ever.

By the time she reached the library, Arden was already seated, a stack of neatly arranged documents in front of him. He glanced up the moment she entered, adjusting his posture, ever the picture of discipline and beauty.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he greeted, his tone polite and professional, but carrying a devotion.

Viana slid into the chair across from him, barely offering a response before reaching for the first document. The weight of responsibility settled back onto her shoulders as she skimmed through the reports.

"I finalized the changes to the tax reports and infrastructure allocations," Arden continued. "Everything is prepared for the council session."

Viana didn’t reply, only flipping through the pages, her eyes sharp despite the lingering haze of sleep.

Arden studied her for a moment. "Are you alright, Princess?"

Viana set down the document, inhaling slowly. "I just want to get this done."

He nodded, understanding her mood.

Minutes passed in quiet focus. Arden outlined the revisions, explaining his calculations and adjustments.

Viana listened, offering occasional comments, but her mind drifted to the comfort of her bed, the softness of silk sheets, the warmth of freshly prepared tea waiting for her in the next room.

She had fought for nearly two weeks. She had endured sleepless nights and cold roads, bloodshed and deception.

She had survived more than she cared to admit. And now, for the first time, she could sit here, in the safety of the palace, surrounded by reports and political matters—difficult, but predictable.

She could return to this life.

A princess in a gilded cage, free from the chaos beyond Elysia’s walls.

Arden continued listing details, but she barely absorbed them.

Finally, he finished, stacking the papers neatly. "Everything is in order, Your Highness."

Viana barely glanced at him before standing, brushing down her gown. "Good. You handled it well."

Arden blinked, expecting more.

"That’s it?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Yes."

Arden frowned, clearly puzzled. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No," she said simply. "I just want to rest."

Something in Arden’s expression shifted—concern, hesitation, adore—but he nodded.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

Viana walked out of the room without looking back.

Her chambers welcomed her like an old friend. Sina had already prepared tea, steam curling from the porcelain cup. A tray of fresh fruit and bread sat untouched beside the window.

She sat down, exhaling deeply.

Tomorrow, she would deal with politics, secrets, alliances.

Tomorrow, she would return to the fight.