The Sinful Young Master

The harem was as eclectic as it was imposing, a collection of men chosen not just for their beauty but for the power and influence they represented. Near the cushions sat Derlyn, an elf of striking beauty, his sharp features framed by silvery hair that fell past his shoulders. His emerald-green eyes watched the exchange with an unreadable expression.

As the eldest son of the King of Silvanoore elves, his presence here was a testament to Raayani's allure and political cunning.

His eyes flickered like candlelight as he observed the mother-daughter spat, his fingers idly tracing arcane symbols in the air.

Yoana chuckled from her spot on the bed, blowing another plume of smoke toward the ceiling. "Belan, darling, you're taking this far too seriously. Your mother is only doing what she does best—playing the game."

Belan shot her a glare.

Raayani sighed dramatically, setting her goblet down. She rose gracefully, her movements fluid and deliberate as she approached her daughter. "Belan," she said softly, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "First of all, you should come out of these emotions and such. You should be able to control them, not the other way around."

Belan stepped back, her jaw tightening. "And you are saying this to me, you who couldn't control yourself, staring at a young man, old enough to be your son."

Yoana laughed out loud; so did others.

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Raayani looked at them with knitted brows. She turned back to her daughter, her fingers brushing a stray lock of Belan's hair from her face. "You worry too much, my dear."

Belan slapped her mother's hand away, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I'm starting to hate this, all of it. The games, the manipulation, the lies. You've poisoned everything and everyone you touch."

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Their smiles faded.

Raayani's expression hardened, her charm slipping for a moment. "Careful, Belan," she said, her tone icy. "You should watch how you speak to your mother. You are talking to the matriarch of Blue Rose; don't forget that."

Belan's voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of her conviction. "I would rather be a pawn than become like you."

"Alright, you two," Yoana said, breaking the silence with a lazy drawl. "That was dramatic enough. Another glass, anyone?"

Belan tried to talk, but Yoana motioned to remain silent for now.

The tension eased slightly as the men returned to their drinks and quiet conversations, but the air in the chamber remained charged.

Raayani returned to her seat.

Belan's defiance was troubling, but Raayani had weathered worse.

After all, power was not for the faint of heart, and Raayani was nothing if not resilient.

The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly broke the hazy atmosphere in the chamber. The drapes at the entrance parted, revealing a man of commanding presence. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his silken robes embroidered with imperial sigils that gleamed faintly in the lantern light. His dark hair was streaked with silver, a testament to his fifty years of age, though his sharp features and piercing amber eyes made him appear far younger. He was no ordinary visitor; this was Prince Veydrin, the Emperor's own brother and also a member of Raayani's harem.

All conversation ceased as Veydrin strode into the room, holding a sealed letter bearing the imperial crest.

Raayani stood up, greeting him, and hugging him. Veydrin was an archmage of the ivory spire. He was rarely seen in the seraglio as he worked at the tower.

After they talked, "Raayani," he said, his deep voice carrying both respect and urgency, "this comes directly from the imperial court. Its contents are of grave importance."

He extended the letter to her, and she took it with a steady hand, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

Breaking the seal, Raayani unfolded the letter and began to read. As her gaze scanned the elegant script, her expression darkened, her jaw tightening.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The room, already silent, seemed to grow even stiller as the tension emanating from her became almost tangible. When she finished reading, she rolled the parchment tightly, her knuckles whitening as she gripped it.

"What is it, Mother?" Belan asked cautiously, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Raayani's voice was clipped, her usual calm veneer cracking ever so slightly. "It's from the imperial court. I am to leave immediately for the Land of the Dreaded Depths."

The name alone sent a ripple through the room.

The Land of the Dreaded Depths—or the Skathrym Veil, as it was often whispered—was a desolate expanse on the continent's borders, infamous for its hostile environment and the predators that roamed its shadowed plains. The predators being the Nynthralls. These creatures are embodiments of nightmares and malice. The Skathrym Veil was a vast expanse and endless dwelling for all sorts of vile creatures. But Nynthralls hail at the top of the food chain in those lands.

Raayani's grip on the letter tightened further. "The nynthralls have emerged. I am to investigate and report back immediately."

Belan's brows knitted in concern. "But, Mother, that place—"

"I know what it is," Raayani interjected sharply, though her tone softened as she looked at her daughter. "It cannot be helped. The Empire calls, and the Blue Rose must answer. This is not a request but an order."

Raayani glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on each member of her harem before settling lovingly on Belan. For all her schemes and cunning, there was genuine affection in her eyes as she addressed her daughter. "Take care, Belan."

Before Belan could respond, Raayani called out, "Summon Zeyra."

Moments later, the chamber door opened again, and a tall woman in her late twenties stepped inside. She moved with a grace that was almost predatory, her every step exuding confidence and control. Her resemblance to Raayani was uncanny—high cheekbones, piercing eyes, and an aura of unshakeable authority. This was Zeyra, Raayani's eldest daughter and the pride of the Blue Rose. Many whispered that she would one day surpass even her mother.