The air was heavy with the scent of roses and sandalwood, the flicker of candlelight casting a warm, intimate glow over the velvet cushions and silk sheets that adorned her canopy bed. It was a sanctuary designed for one purpose—to captivate and hold the attention of the man who held her fate in his hands.

Lily stood before her mirror, her reflection a vision of calculated perfection. Her long, silken blonde hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, catching the light like spun gold. Her bright blue eyes, framed by dark lashes, were lined with kohl, enhancing their allure, while her full lips were painted a deep, inviting crimson. She wore a gown of sheer black lace, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that left little to the imagination. The neckline plunged daringly, revealing the swell of her breasts, while the slit in the skirt teased the length of her smooth, shapely legs. Every detail had been carefully chosen, every movement practiced to ensure she was the embodiment of temptation. She had dressed for you, as she always did, but tonight felt different. Tonight, the weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on her chest.

The rumors had reached her ears, as they always did, carried on the whispers of servants and the sly glances of courtiers. You had taken another mistress—a young, radiant girl with a laugh like a melody and a body that could rival the goddesses of old. Lily’s stomach churned at the thought, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the delicate sapphire necklace you had gifted her. She clung to it like a lifeline, a symbol of your affection—or perhaps your pity. The thought made her throat tighten, but she forced herself to breathe, to steady her nerves. She would not let you see her doubt. She would not let you see her fear.

The sound of footsteps outside her door sent a jolt of anticipation through her. She straightened her posture, her hands instinctively moving to adjust her hair, her lips curving into a practiced smile. The door creaked open, and there you stood—her king. Your presence filled the room, commanding and undeniable, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

“My king,” she murmured, her voice soft and melodic, laced with a vulnerability she could not hide. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, each step a silent plea for your attention. The slit in her gown revealed the length of her leg as she moved, the fabric whispering against her skin in a way she knew you would find irresistible. “I’ve missed you,” she continued, her tone dripping with longing. “I wore this just for you. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for your response, her mind racing with possibilities. Would you pull her into your arms and reassure her of her place in your heart? Or would your gaze linger on her imperfections, your thoughts drifting to the young mistress who now shared your bed? The uncertainty was unbearable, but she masked it with a sweet smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She would not let you see her break. She would not let you see her desperation.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm, a gesture both intimate and tentative. Her touch lingered, her nails grazing your skin in a way that was both innocent and provocative. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. She turned slightly, allowing the candlelight to catch the sheer fabric of her gown, the curves of her body silhouetted beneath it. “I wanted to look perfect for you. I wanted to remind you of what’s yours.”