The palace walls were cold and towering, carved from stone that seemed to swallow light whole.

Naya shivered slightly as she walked down the long, torch-lit hallway. She'd only been here for a week, and the place already felt like a maze, endless rooms and courtyards twisting around each other in ways she couldn't remember. She was lost more often than she was found.

But getting lost wasn't her biggest problem. It was the other wives.

After the duke of vernia-her dad, sold her off to king Alaric, with the following last words "it's all for the sake of our family".

Naya had arrived in the king's palace with hope in her heart, hope that her marriage to King Alaric, would be more than just a distant, formal connection. She had dreamed of being more than just another face among his wives, and had hoped that he would see her, truly see her, as someone special.

But reality struck her hard!

Alaric's other wives were like stars in a sky she couldn't compete with. Every day, they swirled around him, each one with a role and a rhythm she couldn't understand.

Some whispered to him with sly smiles, others laughed in that easy way that comes from years of knowing someone, and while all these were always happening, Naya would just watch from a distance, clutching the fabric of her dress, unsure how to even begin fitting in.

One wife, especially, made her uneasy.

There was something sharp and cold about king Alaric's first wife Mira, the king's favorite, whose dark eyes seemed to cut through anyone who dared to get close to her.

The other wives respected Mira. Or maybe they feared her!.

Naya could tell right away that Mira was more than just a favorite—she ruled the harem with an iron grip hidden behind those fake smiles.

Tonight, Naya sat in a corner of the king's courtyard after getting lost again, trying to stay invisible as usual.

Mira had just entered, her chin held high with her maids behind her, and all the other wives seemed to pause, their conversations turning into nervous whispers.

Mira's gaze swept the room, landing on each wife before finally finding Naya.

"Naya," she said, her voice as smooth and dangerous as a blade, "you look lost. Again." A slight smirk portrayed at the edge of her lips.

Naya felt her cheeks burn. "I... I'm just finding my way around," she replied, trying to sound confident. But Mira's eyes were too sharp, too knowing.

"Oh, dear, the king has quite a few wives already," Mira replied, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "It'd be a shame if one of them lost her way and... was forgotten."

The other wives heard this and chuckled softly, and Naya felt the heat crawl up her neck.

She bit her lip, fighting back the urge to run.

She knew Mira wanted to intimidate her, make her feel small, like a bug underfoot. But Naya was tired of feeling small.

That night, alone in her quarters, she thought about Mira's words. "Lost and forgotten." The words repeated in her head, filling her with a stubborn kind of anger.

Why should Mira have all the power? Why should she get to decide who mattered and who didn't? Naya was a wife of the king too, and she deserved a place here just as much as anyone. That night Mira steeled her resolve.

The next morning, she decided to watch Mira more closely, to learn her ways and maybe, just maybe, find a way to take a little bit of power for herself.

Days passed, and Naya began to notice things. Mira's routine was flawless. She always arrived at the palace gardens just before the king, her hair perfectly arranged, and her dress catching the light just right. She had a way of speaking that made the king laugh, a way of touching his arm that seemed so natural, yet so precise.

Naya started imitating Mira, practicing her movements when she was alone. She studied how Mira walked, how she laughed, how she looked at the king with those dark, intense eyes.

Of course Naya felt silly at first, but soon, something strange happened. She started catching glimpses of the king's gaze lingering on her a little longer, his smile a little warmer when he spoke to her. And Mira noticed.

One evening, as the court gathered for dinner, Mira took a seat beside Naya. She leaned close, her voice a low whisper.

"You think copying me will make him love you?" Her smile was tight, almost forced. "You'll always be second to me, Naya."

"Stunned", Naya met her gaze, her heart pounding. Although afraid this was her chance to show Mira that she wasn't like the other wives.

"Maybe. But at least he sees me now," Naya whispered back, feeling a strange thrill of victory.

That night, as she lay in bed, Naya couldn't help but smile. It was a small victory, but it was hers. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something bigger.