The Concubine Does Not Love the Emperor - Chapter 41

“It’s not surprising that Lady Huram feels this way. Even I can see how much His Majesty cares for you.”

Altar scratched his head, looking troubled.

“May I ask you a question?”

Altar’s eyes narrowed, a hint of curiosity peeking through the slits of his gaze.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you truly have no feelings for His Majesty?”

“No, I don’t.”

The response was automatic, leaving her lips without a moment’s thought. Her expression remained unchanged, but as soon as she spoke, she realized she was lying. She fought to keep any flicker of emotion from showing.

“Then, is there no possibility you might come to love him in the future?”

“None.”

Her voice was steady and unwavering. Altar studied her face closely, as if appraising a precious gem, then shrugged and stepped back.

“You have high standards, Lady Huram. To feel nothing, even after meeting His Majesty…”

“My desire to return to Berthe is simply too strong. I must find my way back, no matter what.”

“Don’t worry about that. As long as you don’t choose to stay in the Burman Empire, His Majesty will honor his promise.”

Altar departed quickly, mentioning something about not staying away too long. With an indifferent expression, Margaret left the building and walked through the corridor. Suddenly, she paused, captivated by the intense fragrance of flowers. She took a slow, deliberate step toward the adjoining courtyard.

The flowerbeds, marking the boundary between the corridor and the garden, were filled with geraniums of various colors. Looking up, she saw large, round hydrangeas in full bloom, gracefully swaying in the breeze. Beyond them, bright trumpet vines cascaded down the walls, their vibrant flowers climbing the long tendrils. Turning back to the path she’d walked, she noticed a sea of red roses on the other side.

Flowers.

Flowers surrounded her. Everywhere she looked, different kinds of flowers were in bloom. Even the same types of flowers displayed a variety of colors—purple, red, white, blue, and pink. Margaret couldn’t suppress the bubbling laughter that escaped her lips. As she strolled through the courtyard, leisurely concubines cast curious glances her way, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

Altar’s words had hit her like a dagger, pinpointing what she had vaguely suspected.

“I think I know why His Majesty is so fixated on you. You’re the first woman he’s met outside the role of emperor. His first experience, his first love… People often give great significance to their firsts, don’t they?”

Altar was right. Flowers were everywhere in the courtyard, but he had only plucked the first one that caught his eye. Weren’t there more dazzling and beautiful flowers all around?

That night, if it hadn’t been for the effects of the aphrodisiac, would she have even shared the emperor’s first night? He must have lacked confidence, which is why he used the aphrodisiac in the first place.

She could understand why a man would become obsessed with the first woman he embraced. But as Altar said, what if she hadn’t been the first concubine he held?

A sharp pang hit her. Margaret stopped her thoughts abruptly. Imagining an unnamed concubine in Suleiman’s arms brought an ache to her chest.

“Why?”

She roused herself from the unsettling emotion. Leaning against a column in the corridor, she closed her eyes. Even with her eyes shut, the flowers asserted their presence with their strong fragrance.

“It feels like I…”

It wasn’t an illusion. Consciously picturing Suleiman tenderly whispering to another woman and holding her close filled Margaret with discomfort. Her heart raced, and anger simmered inside her. She quickly banished the imaginary woman she had conjured. Yet, the unpleasant feeling lingered. Margaret knew this fiery emotion all too well.

“Jealousy. It’s jealousy.”

She needed to return to Berthe. No, more importantly, this man was the emperor of the Burman Empire, the master of this blooming garden, the ruler of the harem.

“I might be the emperor’s first flower, but I’ll never be his only one.”

Realizing this obvious truth, Margaret couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Lady Huram! You’re back early today.”

Upon returning to her quarters, the Rem sisters greeted her cheerfully. Then they noticed her troubled expression and gasped.

“What happened to your face? Are you alright?”

“My face? What’s wrong with it?”

“You look completely different from this morning! Look at yourself in the mirror!”

Gulle rushed to fetch a mirror. Margaret looked at her reflection with indifference. Her eyebrows were neatly groomed, and her pale face was incongruously painted with bright blush. Her lips were red, and a ruby necklace adorned her neck, with matching earrings sparkling at her ears.

Margaret raised her hand to touch the mirror. The woman staring back at her was not herself. The brave and strong Margaret with red hair had vanished. In her place was a beautiful but fragile woman with silver hair, gazing back with distrustful eyes.

Nausea welled up inside her. Was the shock that left her hair white an illusion? Who was this weak woman, adorned with jewels and fine fabrics? Had she forgotten Caterina’s screams? Hadn’t she sworn to protect the royal family with her life? And Klein…

Had she forgotten Klein, who had faced countless soldiers alone after sending her away? What on earth was she doing now? Her emotions surged wildly, and her head spun.

Margaret stripped the jewelry off her body. She immediately filled a basin with water and scrubbed her face vigorously. The Rem sisters watched in stunned silence, blinking in surprise.

Without bothering to dry the dripping water, Margaret faced the mirror again. Now, at last, a more familiar face stared back at her.

Margaret steeled herself once more. She had to return to Berthe. She had to find out if the Crown Prince and Crown Princess were alive or dead. If they were alive, she would protect them with her life; if they were dead, she would avenge them. Loving someone would only be possible afterward. Her life in the harem, aside from breathing, was an undeserved luxury.

****

It had been fifteen days since Suleiman proposed an “emotional exchange” to Margaret. In another month, the promised day would arrive.

During those fifteen days, Margaret did her best as Kadima. When the Emperor desired emotional connection, she willingly engaged in games, recited poetry, or played musical instruments with him. Though she always lost, couldn’t read or write Bormanish, and played the lute poorly, she gave it her all.

When Suleiman wanted physical intimacy, she complied willingly. After all, that was Kadima’s duty, and she couldn’t even feign dislike for it. As time passed, their exchanges grew increasingly one-sided, but this was not something Margaret concerned herself with.

Despite the intimacy, she kept her blossoming feelings hidden and maintained a clear boundary as Kadima. She didn’t realize that this only made Suleiman more anxious.

Every day Margaret visited the Emperor’s quarters in the harem, things changed. Regardless of the nature of their interactions, Suleiman showered her with lavish gifts, which were distributed throughout the harem under the name of Paksi.

The Empress Mother gave her a large room, and during Suleiman’s reign, Margaret became the first to have a room with an adjoining reception area.

“But there’s only a month left.”

Margaret stopped the Rem sisters from enthusiastically decorating her room. Just because the Emperor’s side took no action didn’t mean she had to remain idle. She was prepared in case the promise wasn’t kept, setting aside silver coins and sellable jewels. She even sketched out routes to reach Mustafa’s residence through secret passages and explored ways to travel directly to Berthe via the strait.

Every Friday, the Emperor visited the temple to pray and stayed away from the harem for the day. Margaret knew it was Altar going to the temple, a fact she found highly useful.

Margaret’s status in the harem continued to rise. Those who once whispered about her slave origins changed their tune as they repeatedly received pakshishi (gifts). Some even sought to serve her, hoping to catch the Emperor’s eye by chance. Though she wasn’t aware, her popularity and standing in the harem were nearing that of the Empress Mother.

“Let’s prepare for the worst. If things go awry, you two will return to Prince Mustafa, and I’ll head straight to Berthe,” Margaret said seriously, spreading out an old map.

“You don’t trust His Majesty or the Prince to keep their promises,” Bahari observed, looking at the red lines marking sea and land routes.

“…I only trust myself.”

“If we use this route, we’ll have to escape through the secret passage,” Gulle pointed to the starting point of the red line.

“But we’ll be caught quickly. His Majesty summons you every night, and everyone in the harem is watching us,” Gulle added.

“We’ll escape on the Holy Friday,” Margaret decided.

“But after those rumors, the Emperor never misses a service now,” Gulle pointed out.

“That’s why we need to brainstorm together.”

Bahari, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, “What about a banquet?”

“A banquet?” Margaret echoed.

“Yes. We could host a banquet after the service. If we pay the kitchen staff, they’ll prepare the food. We can also invite musicians. With both His Majesty and the Empress Mother away on Fridays, we could move more freely.”

“Is that even possible?”

“With enough money, yes.”

Margaret had more than enough money. She decided to give the banquet a try. The first event left everyone a bit bewildered, but by the second, they were thoroughly enjoying it. By the third, Margaret felt tired and retired early to her room, and no one suspected a thing. It was a resounding success. In this way, Margaret ensured she had a backup plan if the Emperor failed to keep his promise.