The room, if it could be called that, could hold a small street, three thatched houses and their accompanying backyard farms. Personally, Oris felt that it was a waste of useful space, no matter how elegantly designed it happened to be but since she had no say in it she tried not to let it bother her.

The walls were gold, either made mostly of the metal or painted very convincingly, and the floor was one huge slab of white marble that gleamed and reflected the gold more clearly than a top-rank bronze mirror. Red cloth, ribbons and streamers decorated every beam, pillar and pedestal, leaving Oris with the impression that she had stepped into a sort of paradise furnished with running blood that had been fastened into fashionable bows.

When Faeradaigh strode forward without a care as though he didn't notice the absurd decor of the room, Oris was forced to follow as he led her deeper than she would have been willing to go had she been alone.

To spare her vision, she turned her eyes away and focused on something else.

Lining the walls were more guards and in front of the guards were cushions behind low tables. Not every table was occupied by a candidate but there were two objects on each one, covered entirely by a thick red cloth.

No matter how many tables she passed, Oris couldn't make out what the mystery objects were so she used the opportunity to scout out her competition, taking note of who whispered as she walked past and who remained silent.

She wondered if the tables were arranged according to status or influence, and if they were where she would end up sitting. Every woman she passed was beautiful, enchanting enough to call for a second look. None of them wore a veil, their faces coated in layers of powder and rouge, and their eyes lined with Kohl and glitter of various colors. No part of them was spared or bare, ears pierced with precious stones, wrists caged in bracelets and bangles of silver and gold while slender fingers were decorated with gemstone rings.

For a moment Oris felt inferior, dressed in a simple white dress with no ornaments but she had no time to dwell on the emotion. Faeradaigh had stopped walking and was now on his knees bowing. Keziah and Mayree tugged hard on her hands, prompting her to follow suit.

Oris fell to her knees and hurriedly bowed as Faeradaigh began to rise, cursing her clumsiness in her mind. She had no doubt half the room now saw her as little more that a country bumkin but she had been lost in thought and hadn't noticed the throne up ahead on time.

Silently, she thanked Mayree and Keziah for holding her weight as she made her hurried descent, or resulting thud would have been mortifying. At least now, she could say she had bowed gracefully as possible and managed to keep her head in the process.

Already, she had been suspected of rebelling, not bowing immediately on seeing the current mother of the nation would get her thrown into the dungeons and not even the gods could save her then.

"Subject Faeradaigh Zaree at your service, Your Majesty," he said and held a closed fist over his heart. "All the candidates for the Emperor's harem are now present."

"You may rise," the Empress Dowager said with a voice filled with imperial power and he got to his feet.

Oris remained bowing, knowing not to tempt the devil that resided in the heart of the harem's ruler. It was better to stay on her knees and get scolded than get punished for getting up without permission.

"This is the Lady of Inqa," Faeradaigh added with a small dip of his head.

"Faithful servant greets the Empress Dowager, wishing a long life and longer reign," Oris said, keeping her voice steady and her words short. Though her maids had yet to brief her on conduct in Hermes' harem, she had enough experience being queen to know that the treatment royals across the states expected was nearly identical.

The dowager didn't give an order to rise.

"You are late to the selection and you still wish me a long life?" she asked. "What do you want me to use that life to do? I am already old and I need to select wives for my son. You want to delay the birth of my grandson."

Really? There are so many empty seats and still you say I'm late. If there is anyone interested in delaying the birth of your grandson, it's you.

On the outside Oris didn't react to what she heard and simply closed her eyes. She didn't mind kneeling, her feet had been put through enough torture for a day, it was time for her knees to pay as well. Playing dumb was a good strategy to apply when shouting her innocence and acting panicked would not save her.

For some reason her presence was an inconvenience to the Emperor and his mother but no one had taken her life yet. It was baffling and made her head hurt to be clueless about why but before she could think more on it, three voices erupted from behind her.

"This subject greets Queen Mother," they said together, their words as supple as honey.

Queen Mother? Their words implied familiarity, one that was not easy to earn. They were probably the top candidates for the selection, possible brides chosen just as Hermes' obtained the world or maybe long before that when he was still an abandoned prince.

Unlike Oris, the palace and the Royal family would not not new to them. The servants and maids and guards would have already been bought over for their use. The selection for these sort of women was simply a formality, and they knew it.

"Rise, all of you." the Emperor's mother said, laughter practically woven into her words. "I have told you that you do not need to bow when you greet me."

Oris wondered if there would be a time when the Empress Dowager would say those words to her but crushed the thought as soon as it formed. It was an idea stemming from her competitive spirit, one that might get her killed if left to grow unchecked.

She didn't come here for fame or power, even revenge wasn't her priority at the moment. It was survival.

Only when she was strong enough to survive would she be able to vie for status in the harem, if she needed to. Hermes' was as cruel as he was smart, she doubted that he would be bewitched by all the glittering new brides that would be allocated to his harem.

She doubted if anyone could even win a space in his heart.

In the midst of her musings, a quiet, timid voice said something that caught her interest, "Mother, the maid is still kneeling."

Oris knew that she was the one being referred to and so decided to pay close attention to the conversation. Firstly, because the girl had referred to the dowager as mother. Secondly, because she had been made a target again.

"That isn't a maid," Empress Dowager Wei Wei said.

"Oh?" another girl asked, her voice light and airy. "What is she then?"

"She is the Lady of Inqa, the Emperor's missing bride."

"The long lost bride," the first girl said as though she had realized something. "Did she offend you, Mother?"

"How can a lowly girl from the village offend me, Darling," Wei Wei said with a condescending laugh. "You may rise."

"This servant thanks the Empress Dowager," Oris said, injecting as much gratefulness as she could manage into every word.

Mayree and Keziah moved to help her stand but were stopped in their tracks when Hermes' mother clapped her hands and ordered them to step down.

"You have only been her maids for a handful of weeks and you are all so dedicated. Before she moved into the palace she didn't have anyone helping her. She can stand on her own," she said.

"Get up now," she continued as complete silence dominated the room. "Don't let others think I am bullying you."

Oris slowly straightened up, taking her forehead off the floor to stare at the Empress Dowager. It was the first time she had gotten a good look at this enemy of hers.

Wei Wei wore a flamboyant crimson dress with long sleeves that brushed the floor and gold thread lining its hem. On her head sat a golden crown inlaid with fat rubies the size of a newborn's fist, and in her hair were golden ornaments to pin it up in an updo that made her seem more stately than she normally was.

Her lips were the color of blood and curled up at the edges into a beautiful smile; her eyes were as dark as clay and lined with rouge, making them look all the more predatory.

Oris felt like she was under a spell and had to avert her eyes from the beauty in front of her. She held her hands away from her body, the palm of one flushed with the back of the other and the tips of her thumbs touching.

"This servant thanks the Empress Dowager for her teachings. This lowly one will take them to heart and not dare steer away from them," she said loudly and bowed again, watching the lines on her palm in order to distract herself from the anger building up in her chest. She pressed her hands onto the smooth floor and laid her head on them.

Then she got up, first kneeling then resting her weight on her ankles. She leaned back slightly until she felt the heel of her shoes make an angle with the ground. The entire process was laborious, her legs quivering beneath her dress as she lifted her body with her feet alone until she was once again at a precarious height off the ground.

With her calves aching, Oris proceeded to curtsey, trying her best to not fall on her face as she did.

The Queen Mother waved her away and turned her attention back to the three girls that surrounded her.

Without any aid, Oris took three steps back and slowly turned around. Faeradaigh did the same and held out his hand towards where they had came from.

"Please follow me," he said, then started walking.

Oris kept her eyes on Faeradaigh and followed him down the room with her maids trailing behind her.

Keziah discretely extended her hand towards her mistress to support her, aware, because of their proximity, of how she trembled with each step.

Oris didn't react, keeping her eyes fixed on the back of Faeradaigh's head of damp hair and her hands clutching her handkerchief in a death grip.

"Thank you," she whispered, her lips barely moving.

Keziah looked up in surprise then ducked her head again but not before flashing her mistress a bright smile.

You're welcome, it said.

We've got your back, it confirmed.

When Oris finally stopped in front of an empty table, she bowed her head. "Thank you for your help, milord."

Faeradaigh nodded and walked away, back towards the throne.

Oris eyed the cushion for a moment before kneeling on it and sitting on her ankles. It was times like these that she missed chairs.

Mayree tapped her twice on the shoulder when the coast was clear and no eyes were on them.

"Maybe you should have worn flats, Mistress," she said, "I didn't think we would get in trouble because of shoes."

"It doesn't matter what we wear, as long as someone is displeased with us even if we were the female god of Truth and her entourage, we would still find ourselves in the palace dungeons," Oris replied quietly.

Andrea giggled then coughed softly to cover it up, touching her hairpin with a finger as she evaded Mayree's stern gaze.

"What do you think the first test will be?" she asked.

"It has to do with whatever lies beneath the red cloth," Seline whispered back, a hint of mischief lacing her words. "This servant is positive."

"Maybe we can take a peek—?"

Keziah inserted herself into the conversation with a side glance at the table. "It's a test. On writing."

"A writing test?" Andrea hissed the question, Mayree having pinched her for having too loud a voice. "How can you tell? They both look like boxes."

"I-" Keziah began but was interrupted when the double doors to the room opened.

"The Scribes and Senior Priestess of the empire, here to see the Empress Dowager," an eunuch announced and all eyes turned to the party behind him.

It seemed like the first test was finally about to start.

~