You Were My Sl*ve - Chapter 58

“Do you think the spy managed to deliver everything to Zahhak?”

“We couldn’t confirm, but it’s highly possible,” Tortan replied.

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind. Continue sending people to Pharsion to investigate if there are more spies. You may leave now.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll see to it,” Tortan said, bowing before retreating.

Left alone in the vast hall, Kazan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It felt as though he were standing on the edge of a bottomless pit, with the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

“If it comes to it, I’ll have to kill Zahhak. If he’s uncovered everything… if he poses a threat to me or Elona, I can’t let him live.”

He walked with measured steps out of the hall, preparing himself for the grand wedding ahead. Zahhak Omar, heir to the Omar family, will also be attending as a guest. Kazan could only hope there would be no need to confront him further.

As he reached the carriage waiting in front of the palace, he climbed in to find Elona sitting inside. She looked stunning, as radiant as a bride herself.

*

The wedding of the Horta family heir was so grand that it seemed as if the entire population of Rabina had shown up at some point. The sprawling gardens of the Horta estate were divided into two zones: one for the distinguished guests and another for the general attendees.

As Elona followed Kazan toward the VIP section, she couldn’t help but marvel at the lively scene unfolding in the public area.

“This feels more like a royal festival than a wedding. So many people are here!”

The public zone was open to anyone, with no invitations required. Commoners flocked in to collect food, merchants set up stalls to sell goods, and city guards casually sipped drinks, blending into the crowd.

“It’s so different from Perma. Less organized, but… vibrant.”

Elona became so engrossed in taking in the sights that she momentarily forgot her role as Kazan’s attendant. However, Kazan didn’t seem to mind. He walked leisurely, allowing her to observe her surroundings freely.

Watching Elona’s wide-eyed wonder at the lively atmosphere, Kazan felt… oddly content. Perhaps even pleased, though he wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Miriam… you have a real talent.”

He thought he had grown accustomed to conducting himself with the dignity of a king. But as he walked beside Elona, he found himself struggling to keep his gaze from lingering on her.

Today, Elona wore a subtly elegant dress in a pale ivory hue, cinched at the waist with a light brown sash that emphasized her slender figure. The flared hem of the dress flowed gracefully, exuding elegance, while the fitted sash added a touch of sensuality. Her golden hair was swept up, revealing jade earrings that peeked out from beneath the strands, perfectly complementing her look.

“Where did we store those tribute jewels? Perhaps I should…” Kazan mused absently before being interrupted.

“Your Highness, you’ve arrived early. I was waiting to see when you’d join us.”

Kazan paused as Zahhak Omar appeared before him, just as he was about to take his seat. Dressed in formal black attire, Zahhak knelt respectfully before the king, his movements composed and graceful.

Kazan recalled Tortan’s report from earlier that morning and stared at Zahhak intently, studying his every move.

Zahhak’s expression was as unchanging as ever—a polite smile that betrayed nothing.

“Zahhak, is it only you attending from the Omar family?” Kazan asked.

“Yes, Your Highness. My father had other commitments, and my mother is unwell. I hope my presence alone won’t be considered a slight,” Zahhak replied smoothly.

“And your seat?”

“Over there, on the opposite side,” Zahhak replied.

Kazan lifted his gaze to where Zahhak had indicated. True to his reputation as a flirt, Zahhak’s seat was surrounded by numerous noblewomen, each vying for his attention.

“…Enjoy yourself,” Kazan said dryly.

“Of course. Should you need anything, simply call for me. I’ll take my leave now.”

Zahhak bowed politely and made his way back to the women, his steps light and carefree. Whether it was all a smokescreen or genuine indifference, Kazan couldn’t tell. Still, he resolved to keep a close eye on Zahhak for the remainder of the day.

As Kazan took his seat, it signaled the arrival of all the distinguished guests. Shortly after, a longhorn sounded, silencing the crowd. The wedding ceremony of the Horta family officially began.

“Groom, Amadin Horta! Show your respect to Kalima!”

The ceremony unfolded just as Elona had read in the books. The groom, dressed in a white ceremonial robe adorned with pearls and embroidery, approached the altar. There, he picked up a chalice from the small altar of Kalima. At that moment, Elona poured wine into Kazan’s goblet, following the tradition of filling the cups of all the men in attendance.

“Bride, Jamil of the Rashadi family! Show your respect as a couple!”

Next, the bride emerged from behind a long curtain. Her red wedding gown, embroidered with golden threads, shimmered as she stepped forward, complemented by her elaborate gold jewelry and floral decorations. She was the most beautiful woman in the venue, and the sight drew gasps of admiration from the crowd.

As Elona watched in awe, the people around her began to whisper excitedly.

“So that’s the girl Amadin has been chasing since childhood.”

“Adorable, isn’t she? They say they’ve been exchanging letters since they were fifteen.”

“The Rashadi family will surely benefit from this. With the groom so smitten, they’ll be well cared for.”

Stories of the couple’s romance filled the air. The groom and bride, barely twenty years old, looked radiant as they smiled and held hands. Watching them, Elona found herself thinking absentmindedly,

“I used to want to get married too… to wear a white dress, hold a bouquet….”

It was a vague dream, now long abandoned.

As she watched, the groom handed his chalice to the bride, who shyly took a sip of the wine. Following the gesture, the men in the room offered their goblets to their wives or fiancées. Elona instinctively glanced at Kazan before quickly averting her gaze.

“No, no. That’s not for me. This has nothing to do with me.”

She wasn’t someone who could share a drink with Kazan in that way. For men without partners, the tradition was to drink the entire goblet themselves.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elona watched as Kazan began drinking. When he set the half-empty goblet down, he turned to her.

“Are you offering to finish it for me?”

“A-ah, no, forgive me, Your Highness,” she stammered, her face flushing as she quickly lowered her gaze.

Kazan smirked slightly before finishing the rest of the wine on his own.

The ceremony continued with a lengthy sermon delivered by a priest of Kalima from Rabina. Elona, slightly bored, took the opportunity to survey the room, identifying all the nobles she had read about.

“Ah, Irid is here too.”

The Padisha family was seated a short distance from Zahhak. All of them were lavishly dressed, but Irid stood out in her pale lavender gown, which sparkled with intricate beadwork. Her oversized earrings and necklace radiated opulence, drawing the eye of many attendees.

Even during the ceremony, a few nobles approached Harnoque, the head of the Padisha family, to exchange greetings.

“I guess Kazan is too high up for the nobles to interact with him like this. They seem more focused on mingling among themselves.”

But Elona’s impression turned out to be wrong.

When the ceremony ended—with the couple presenting offerings to Kalima, exchanging gifts, and the groom lifting the bride onto a horse for their exit—there was a sudden surge of nobles approaching Kazan’s seat.

“Your Highness, it is an honor to have you grace Rabina with your presence. I had hoped to request an audience in Perma, but the procedures there are so complicated….”

“Recently, northern copper mines have been frequented by merchants from Pharsion. Is this due to a change in the regulations, or are they acting independently…?”

“Ugh, these people…”

As Elona observed the influx of nobles, she belatedly realized the situation. This wasn’t Perma—this was Rabina, where not just central nobles but many regional ones had gathered. For the provincial nobles, who rarely had the chance to meet Kazan in person, this was their opportunity. The moment the banquet began, they rushed to seek an audience with the king. It felt no different from the victory celebrations in Perma.

Elona had been dutifully assisting Kazan for an hour when a familiar face appeared before her.

“Your Highness, I am Irid Padisha, here to pay my respects.”

Irid, dressed extravagantly even for a wedding, approached alone. Her father, Chancellor Harnoque, was surrounded by other nobles, sharing drinks and socializing.

With a sultry smile, Irid offered Kazan a cup of wine.

“It’s refreshing to see you at a wedding, Your Highness. You must have had much to prepare for. Has one Pharsion slave been enough to meet your needs?”

“Of course. One is enough,” Kazan replied without hesitation, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Irid barely managed to maintain her composure, forcing a smile as she gently set the wine bottle down and took a seat across from him.

“The new steward of the Mano Palace seems to have trained her well,” she said with a faint laugh. “At the last banquet, she tried to do as others did, but from what I’ve seen, she still has much to improve on—”

“Irid Padisha.”

Kazan cut her off, his expression devoid of humor as he stared at her.

The moment Irid closed her mouth, Kazan spoke, his tone sharp.

“The maid you oversaw was worthy of execution. Do you still have anything to say to me?”

Irid’s lips trembled slightly. She hadn’t expected Kazan to still hold onto that incident. Forcing herself to smile, she glanced around at the other nobles before replying.