You Were My Sl*ve - Chapter 49

So that’s why Irid, despite his circumstances, flaunted his power and pride so much.

Elona sighed in exasperation, finding the situation absurd.

“So we really have to learn all this from books? Aren’t these things supposed to be taught in person by someone experienced?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Miriam said with a wry smile. “All the royals who possessed that level of knowledge were killed during the last civil war.”

How many people must have died?

Elona’s face grew pale at the thought, and Miriam quickly added in a reassuring tone, “Don’t worry too much. His Majesty contributed significantly to their demise, so as long as you uphold a reasonable standard of etiquette, he’ll let it slide.”

Just how many people did he kill?

Elona decided to stop dwelling on the war and followed Miriam silently.

Miriam led her to a small library on the first floor of Mano Palace. Inside, she pulled several books from the shelves and stacked them on the table. Seeing how thick the books were, Elona couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

Surely, they’re not expecting me to read all of this? Maybe just certain sections… right?

Back in the royal palace of Parsion, Elona had never been particularly interested in royal etiquette. Her introverted nature made her dislike attending official events or balls. While she enjoyed dressing up in beautiful gowns, mingling with nobles and maintaining formal poise had always been a challenge for her.

“Have confidence, Princess! You were born so beautiful—it’d be a shame not to show it off,” her former slave Samira had often said, encouraging her.

Samira, two years older than Elona, was a slave but always carried herself with elegance and maturity. Elona thought of Samira’s beautiful face and silver hair, reminiscing fondly.

Samira mastered our royal etiquette in no time. She was so intelligent and kind, always staying by my side and taking care of me…

Elona’s chest ached with sorrow at the memory. After the trial involving Kazan, she never saw Samira again.

Samira must have felt just as lost and uncertain as I do now. But she learned, adapted, and excelled. I need to do the same.

Resolving to take this training seriously, Elona steeled herself to study diligently. No matter her position, she didn’t want to be the subject of ridicule again, as she had been during the victory banquet.

*

As preparations for King Sindar’s first-anniversary festival progressed, Harnuk Pasha was in a foul mood. He cornered Irid, who was overseeing the arrangements, and vented his frustrations.

“So, His Majesty won’t grant our family any special privileges? Only two contestants are allowed in the tournament, the same as other houses? Only six guests were invited to the palace banquet, just like everyone else. And we can’t even reserve the best seats for our guests?”

“That’s right, Father. The current atmosphere is ridiculous. We’re a loyalist family—why are we being treated like this? I can’t believe we’re being cast aside all because of a single slave!” Irid snapped, grinding her teeth in frustration.

Harnuk sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. The situation was giving him a headache.

The assassination attempt on the slave princess had been a trivial matter—at least in his eyes. After all, they hadn’t been punished for it.

“But the real problem is how our family got tied to the Western Rebellion. If we’re not careful, we could be branded as traitors.”

The illegal racetrack they’d been running had inadvertently become a hotbed of dissent, sparking the rebellion. The moment the king had mentioned the rebellion, Harnuk had decided to deny any involvement outright. But strangely, Sindar had remained silent about the matter, even long after the rebellion had been quelled.

“Something feels off. Is he waiting to gather evidence and hit us with everything at once?”

Harnuk was far from a clean or moral man. And King Sindar, with his ruthless and direct approach, was not someone Harnuk wanted to antagonize.

“What do we do now, Father?” Irid’s voice, filled with irritation, broke his train of thought. Her constant complaints pushed him over the edge.

“Why are you blaming me? You were the one who should have won the king’s favor ages ago! What have you even been doing in the palace all this time? Stop making this my fault!”

“Of course, it’s your fault!” Irid shot back, her voice rising. “You should have negotiated my betrothal to the king as part of the deal for supporting him in the civil war! Without that promise, it was inevitable I’d be cast aside!”

She wasn’t wrong. Harnuk had secured the position of Grand Vizier in exchange for his support during the civil war, not Irid’s marriage to the king. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he tried to deflect.

“Ahem. What’s done is done. There’s no use crying over the past. For now, just focus on making the festival a success. Surely you can manipulate the tournament brackets? If someone from our family wins, it’ll help restore our honor.”

“Fine. I’ll take care of it,” Irid replied tersely, storming off in a fury.

Her anger reached its peak as she left the room. Being scolded by her father had only fueled her resentment.

“Unless that wretched slave dies, the king will never look my way!”

Rumors had been spreading that the king’s affection for Elona had only deepened after her near-death experience. It was as if pouring water on a fire had only made it burn hotter. The thought drove Irid to madness.

“I’ll stop at nothing now. There’s no need to make it look like suicide anymore. As long as it can’t be traced back to me, that’s all that matters. One way or another, she’ll die.”

Carrying her thirst for vengeance, Irid returned to her duties in the palace. For now, she focused on her father’s instructions: manipulating the tournament brackets to ensure a victory for their family.

As she reviewed the profiles and skills of the competing warriors, her mind churned with plans.

“I need to release a hunting dog among them—someone who can win and carry out my bidding.”

Bribery, blackmail, and covert deals—she began planning her next move. Whether Elona was torn apart by her “hunting dog” or fell into a trap, Irid was determined to see her dead by her own hands.

*

The first anniversary of King Sindar’s coronation also marked the one-year anniversary of the civil war’s end.

On that historic day, the vast Ashatra palace was adorned with exquisite decorations, and the festive atmosphere was palpable. Fresh flowers and dazzling jewels from across the trade routes adorned the palace, captivating the eyes of all who attended the celebrations.

“Elona, this way. Since we’re palace staff, we’ll enter through a different door than the external guests,” Miriam said, guiding her.

Elona, dressed elegantly with Miriam’s help, walked into the banquet hall with a nervous expression. The grand hall for the ceremony was the opulent Pomegranate Palace, a space that had once been used as a harem but was now empty and perfect for hosting such grand gatherings.

“Miriam, are you sure this outfit isn’t too much? I don’t want to look overdone…” Elona asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry. If anything, looking too plain would be a problem. Remember, Elona, your role today is to attend to the king. Be confident.”

Taking a deep breath, Elona stepped further into the hall. It was already teeming with foreign guests, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Food and drink overflowed at every corner, and music from various instruments intertwined chaotically. Though it was only midday, the hall buzzed as if the feast were already in full swing.

“I’ll go take my place now. You’ll do fine,” Miriam said with a reassuring smile before departing.

Left on her own, Elona turned her gaze toward the king’s throne. Positioned atop ten steps, the elevated seat was still empty.

“Before the king takes his seat at the banquet, I mustn’t approach. The king’s position must always be the highest, and if I sit first, it would seem as though I’m looking down on him.”

Recalling what she had studied with Miriam, Elona remained standing quietly, her hands folded neatly. If she had unknowingly taken the seat beside the empty throne, she would surely have been scolded.

“Let’s go over what I need to do. When the food arrives, I need to ensure the cups and dishes are safe. Place the wine glass on the side he uses most and the water glass on the less dominant side. But since Kazan is ambidextrous, in this case…”

While she was rehearsing her tasks in her mind, the sound of footsteps from across the hall drew her attention. She turned her head to see Kazan walking down the shaded corridor.

As he stepped into the sunlight, Elona’s breath caught in her throat.

For this grand occasion—his most significant public event since the coronation—Kazan wore ceremonial attire more regal than she had ever seen. His black tunic was intricately embroidered with golden thread, and a rich purple cloak draped elegantly over one shoulder. His straight silk trousers, free of a single wrinkle, fit perfectly to his tall, muscular frame, highlighting his strong physique.

“I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Kazan usually favored loose, practical clothing that allowed him freedom of movement. But today’s formal attire accentuated his broad shoulders and masculine frame in a way that left Elona uncharacteristically flustered.

“…He looks incredible.”

Realizing her cheeks were heating up, Elona hastily covered her face, pretending to clear her throat. Kazan noticed her awkward movements and stopped in his tracks, staring at her.

His gaze swept over her hair pinned up elegantly, her lightly made-up face, and the flowing blue Ashatra-style dress she wore.

“Was it too much? What if he doesn’t like it?”

Anxiously, she fidgeted with her lapis lazuli hairpin. The modestly designed dress revealed little skin but flattered her slender figure with its graceful cut. A gossamer-like cape draped over her shoulders and trailed to her ankles, lending an air of understated elegance.

Elona was too preoccupied with Kazan’s reaction to notice that others in the hall were also staring at her. The sight of the king and the former slave princess frozen in the sunlight was as striking as a masterpiece painting, leaving many to wonder if the rumors of the king’s love for her were true.

“Your Majesty,” Elona broke the silence with a trembling voice, masking her emotions as best she could. She gestured toward the throne.

“It’s time to take your seat. The banquet has already begun, and the martial arts tournament cannot start without your command.”

It was only then that Kazan seemed to realize where he was. Glancing briefly at the throne, he nodded and began ascending the steps without a word.

Elona let out a sigh of relief. It seemed her appearance and behavior hadn’t offended him. However, as she took her place beside him, he murmured quietly.

“You don’t have to stay by my side all day. You’re still recovering, and it’ll be dull.”

Surprised by the unexpected consideration, Elona shook her head.

“I’ll stay. This only happens once a year, and I took the time to dress up for it…”

“…Suit yourself.”