Her voice was sweet, filled with gratitude. But in the flickering candlelight, her dark eyes gleamed with something far more dangerous.
The next day, before the first rays of sunlight graced the horizon, Zoltan was already awake.
Steam curled in the air as he sat in the large, stone bath, water lapping against his muscular frame. His eyes were closed, lost in thought, when an irritating delay disrupted his peace.
His clothes had not yet arrived.
Outside, one of his attendants, a young man named Cassius, hurried through the hall, carefully balancing a neatly folded set of royal garments. But before he could reach the prince's chambers, Mireya intercepted him.
Mireya tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement as she glanced at the clothing in his hands. "Are those the prince's clothes?"
Cassius hesitated, but he couldn't exactly lie. "Yes."
Mireya's smile widened. "Good. Give them to me." She extended her hands expectantly.
The attendant stepped back instantly, gripping the garments tighter. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Mireya's expression darkened slightly, though she quickly masked it. "I want to deliver them."
Cassius took another step back. "I'm sorry, Lady Mireya, but I cannot do that."
Mireya's expression remained pleasant, but her fingers curled slightly. "Why not?"
Cassius cleared his throat, keeping a polite but firm tone. "It is my duty to deliver them to the prince personally."
That should have been enough to dissuade her, but instead, Mireya's expression darkened briefly before she let out a soft chuckle.
Mireya chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Ah, but you see, I am his concubine. It is my duty to serve him." She took another step closer, lowering her voice slightly. "So, why don't you let me do this instead?"
Cassius felt a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. He knew that giving in to her would displease Zoltan. Gravely.
He shook his head adamantly. "I cannot disobey the prince's orders."
Mireya exhaled through her nose, annoyed by his stubbornness.
Mireya sighed, shaking her head. "You're being so rigid. I'm his concubine now—sooner or later, I will serve him myself. Why delay the inevitable?"
The attendant remained unmoved. "That may be so, but until the prince himself gives permission, I cannot allow it."
Mireya crossed her arms, her tone turning colder. "Do you really think the prince will care who brings his clothes? Or are you afraid I will do something inappropriate?"
The attendant remained silent, his expression firm.
Taking his silence as an answer, Mireya let out a light chuckle, but there was no warmth in it. "Ah, so that's it." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're afraid, aren't you?"
The attendant swallowed hard but stood his ground. "I'm not afraid. I simply follow orders."
Mireya's eyes narrowed. "And what if I insist?"
"Then you will still not have these clothes," the attendant replied, his tone growing sharper.
Mireya's smile faltered slightly, frustration flickering in her gaze.
"You're making things difficult," she murmured and stared at him for a long moment, her face unreadable.
Mireya sighed dramatically. "Oh, Cassius. Don't you think you're being unreasonable? I am only trying to help."
"With all due respect, Lady Mireya, I do not require your help."
Her pleasant facade cracked slightly, irritation flashing in her eyes. "You palace servants can be so stubborn."
Cassius remained silent, standing his ground.
After a long pause, Mireya smiled again, this time with a glint of something dangerous in her expression. "Well, I tried asking nicely."
Cassius had barely processed her words before a sharp pain exploded at the back of his neck.
His vision blurred, his knees buckled, and before he could even call out—
Darkness consumed him.
Mireya crouched down, inspecting him with a faint smirk. "Stubborn fool."
With a glance around to ensure no one had seen, she grabbed his arms and dragged him behind a nearby sofa, tucking him out of sight.
Then, dusting off her hands, she picked up the robes and continued on her way—a triumphant glint in her eyes.
Then, lifting the prince's garments, she smoothed out the fabric and stepped forward, her expression returning to its usual innocent sweetness.
It was time to see Zoltan.
Meanwhile, inside the bath chamber, Zoltan was growing impatient.
Where were his clothes?
His brows furrowed, irritation creeping in. Unable to tolerate the delay any longer, he called for another attendant. "Go check what's taking so long."
The second attendant hurried out—only to nearly collide with Mireya at the entrance.
He stumbled back, eyes widening as he saw the prince's garments in her hands.
"What are you doing with those?" he demanded. "And where is Cassius?"
Mireya tilted her head, her lips curling into a harmless smile. "Oh, him? He gave these to me and left, saying he had something else to do."
The attendant narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. "That doesn't sound right."
Mireya's lips curved into a charming smile. "Perhaps you should go ask him yourself?"
The attendant narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. "Give them to me. I will deliver them."
Mireya's smile did not falter. "Princess Zephyrine was calling for you earlier."
The attendant froze. The princess?
He studied Mireya's face, his instincts warning him not to trust her. But if Princess Zephyrine truly summoned him, ignoring her call would mean severe punishment.
After a moment, he exhaled sharply and turned on his heel. "Fine. But if you're lying, I'll—"
"I wouldn't dare," Mireya interrupted, her voice honeyed.
The moment he left, Mireya exhaled in relief.
Now, she could enter.
She pushed open the door softly, stepping in carefully.
The sight before her made her freeze.
Inside, Zoltan stood half-naked, his body dripping with water, his powerful chest bare to the candlelight.
Mireya's cheeks turned red.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
Then—rage flickered across his face.
"YOU."
Mireya instinctively took a step back, clutching the clothes to her chest.
"W-why are you here?!" Zoltan's voice was sharp, his body tense with fury. His patience had finally run out and his voice, laced with pure anger, filled the chamber.
Mireya flinched but quickly composed herself, bowing her head slightly. "My prince, it was your attendant Cassius who sent me in."
Zoltan narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. "Cassius?"
Mireya nodded, clutching the garments in her hands. "Yes. None of your attendants were here, and someone needed to bring you your clothes."
Zoltan's gaze darkened. He had already warned his attendants against acting without his command—was this their way of testing his patience?
"Get out," he growled, his voice dangerously low.
Mireya, however, stood her ground.
"Your Highness, you will be late for the hunt."
Zoltan stilled.
His father, the Emperor, had personally reminded him about today's hunt. Being late was not an option.
Mireya noticed his hesitation and quickly pressed forward. "Allow me to assist you, my prince. I am your concubine. It is only right that I serve you."
Zoltan let out a frustrated sigh. He was already irritated, and arguing further would only waste more time.
"Fine," he said reluctantly. "But be quick about it."
Mireya's lips curled into a victorious smile.
Mireya stepped forward carefully, her fingers brushing against the fine silk of the garments she held. Zoltan turned his back to her, clearly displeased but unwilling to waste any more time.
She moved with practiced grace, unfolding his robes and preparing to assist him. The warm scent of sandalwood and musk lingered in the air from his bath, mingling with the sharp edge of his irritation.
As she reached to drape the first layer over his shoulders, her fingers accidentally grazed against his bare skin. The muscles beneath her touch tensed immediately.
"Watch your hands," Zoltan snapped, his voice laced with warning.
Mireya quickly lowered her gaze. "Forgive me, my prince." But inside, she smirked. Even the strongest men could be unsettled by a woman's touch.
She continued dressing him with careful, deliberate movements, adjusting the fabric and smoothing the creases. Zoltan stood still, his irritation simmering beneath the surface.
When she reached for the belt to fasten his robes, he grabbed her wrist mid-motion.
His golden eyes, now hardened like tempered steel, bore into hers.
"Do not think this changes anything," he said coldly. "You will never take what does not belong to you."
Mireya, instead of shrinking away, held his gaze.
"I do not wish to take anything, my prince." Her voice was soft but laced with meaning. "I only wish to serve."
Zoltan released her hand with a scoff. "You may leave."
Mireya bowed gracefully, stepping backward toward the door. But before exiting, she turned slightly and said, "I hope you have a successful hunt, my prince."
Zoltan did not respond. He only watched her go, his fingers instinctively tightening over the belt she had fastened.
Outside the chamber, Mireya's lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
"The game of chess has begun," she whispered to herself. "And I am already one step ahead."