Rumor snapped through the palace that the woman who had tried to kill the king was to be his son’s plaything.

Of course, neither Dasha nor Orfeo enjoyed that phrasing of events, but the nature of rumormongers made them difficult to control. Serafina was able to convince both of them—with separate arguments, of course—that however tasteless such rumors might be, it was best not to try and quell them. In particular, they seemed to please the king—and whatever made Tereus less likely to stick his nose in their business, the better.

Unlike Serafina, whose addition to the harem was a swift and easy thing, Dasha’s took some time. Most of the obstruction came from Rosa, the pink-scaled kobold madame, who had asked a number of probing questions towards Dasha—and to Serafina herself. The aging kobold had somehow sussed out that Serafina was the one who had convinced Orfeo to take Dasha in.

If Serafina hoped that their shared species would engender a sense of kinship, she was sorely mistaken. The interview had been brief but tense, with Rosa asking pointed, probing questions and gazing sternly at her over her half-moon spectacles. Of course, life in the Pumice Quarter had gifted Serafina with, among other things, a quicksilver tongue… but even as she managed to snake out of tripping any obvious alarm bells, she got the sense that Rosa was far from mollified.

After a few days, however, the madame had exhausted all her options, and she was forced to accede and allow Dasha into the seraglio.

The day the orc entered, she was presented with an outfit, just like Serafina herself had been—one Serafina had worked on with Baucis. (The fox woman had been surprised but pleased to learn of another new addition so soon, and was eager to meet her.) The two of them waited in the seraglio’s forechamber when Rosa opened the door and, with a dour expression, ushered Dasha inside. Serafina, who had only seen Dasha in either Vestyn’s white dress, unflattering robes given by the palace staff, or her own skin, was intrigued to see her—and Baucis outright squealed with delight.

Dasha was the very image of an orcish adventurer: tall and imposing, with an appealingly muscled frame and a no-nonsense look. Modest tusks jutted out from her lower lip, and her fern-green skin was complemented by strawberry-blonde hair which was pulled back in a loose, long tail. Her new ‘harem’ outfit was anything but; she wore a grey-blue leather chestpiece that molded around her generous breasts, ending right beneath them and showing off her underbreasts, bare stomach, and chiseled abs. For a bottom, she boasted an adventurer’s skirt of matching leather that dropped to her mid-thighs. Walking boots completed the look. She scowled down at her bare stomach as if hoping to intimidate her clothes into offering more combat utility, and raised one claw-tipped hand to tug uncertainly at the collar around her neck. It gleamed aluminum, just like Serafina and Baucis’s own.

Rosa sniffed. “I trust you shall see to the usual introductory spiel,” she said, her voice flanged with acid as she glared at Serafina. “And should anything happen to His Highness the prince, your fate shall be… unenviable.”

Serafina shivered despite herself. She didn’t doubt it. Still, Orfeo was her ticket to the good life—and a genuinely caring and gentle man besides. She had no idea to see him harmed, and she trusted that Dasha shared in that resolve. “Understood,” she said with a wave, sounding more confident than she felt.

The madame seemed unimpressed, but with a flick of her pink tail, she withdrew, leaving the three concubines alone.

As soon as she was gone, Baucis strode over to Dasha, eyes alight with interest. “I’m so glad we have another addition,” she said, her voice warm and maternal. She took Dasha’s hands in her paws. Dasha looked up at her with a look of surprise—the orc was quite tall, but Baucis had a few inches even on her. Next to the two of them, Serafina felt positively diminutive.

Coughing, Serafina caught both their attentions. “We should probably give her the tour and get her settled in,” she said. “You know, before Orfy gets back.”

Dasha’s tusked mouth twitched in amusement despite herself. “Orfy? You have a pet name for the son of Tereus the Tyrant?”

“We can give you one too,” Baucis said, eyes twinkling puckishly. “Dashdash, perhaps?”

Dasha flexed her fist in a way that cracked all her knuckles at once, simultaneously impressive and just a little bit threatening. “Nah,” she said easily, and that was the end of that.

They treated her to a repeat of the same tour Serafina had been given herself not too long ago. Dasha’s eyes rose in appreciation at the lush environs; she had nodded appreciatively at being shown Serafina’s chambers and had taken in Baucis’s with stoic appreciation.

“My door’s always open!” Baucis said energetically. “Unless Orfy’s here… but even then, I don’t think he’d, um, mind an audience…” She blushed, as if scarcely believing what she’d admitted (to fellow concubines, no less!)

“The prince is into that?” Dasha folded her arms, mouth tight. “S’pose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“He’s into…” Baucis blushed and looked away before she could finish.

“Lots of stuff,” Dasha completed for her. She grinned. “Well well well.” She eyed Serafina. “Well, you both know my story. How about yours?”

Serafina gave a quick rundown—mother a whore, life on the streets, the audition, impressing Orfeo. Baucis then surrendered her own—the prince’s favorite prostitute, recruited to the harem, her magical ambitions stymied by her ruined reputation.

When Baucis got to the earlier part of her history, relaying that she was a disowned noble, Dasha’s hands had tightened. “A noble,” she said, voice suddenly terse. “I see.”

Tension filled the room and Serafina looked back and forth between the two of them. Baucis didn’t look offended or on the defensive—only understanding, with that same motherly air.

“I don’t know how you fell into Vestyn’s clutches or what he made you do,” she said after a moment’s pause, “and I won’t ask. You can share when you’re ready, or not at all. That’s okay too. But I can understand why you’d be wary of nobility.” She raised a hand to her chest, speaking with earnestness: “The nobility in this country are aloof towards their subjects at best, and often predatory… but too often it’s ignored that the easiest victims for them to get their hands on are their own kin.” She let the implication hang for a moment before pressing on. “If you’re not comfortable with me, then I’ll respect that and leave you alone. But I… might just understand more than you think.” Her gaze turned to Serafina. “Both of you.”

Serafina blinked. She was used to Baucis’s airy happiness and mother hen qualities. This somberness was unusual—and she felt like she had a new appreciation of her.

After a moment, Dasha sighed, relaxing. “No, you’re right. Vestyn was… a monster.” Her voice flinted momentarily with a level of hate that Serafina didn’t know was possible. “But it’s ludicrous to think that every noble shares his brand of poison.”

“Ex-noble,” Baucis added gently. “I was disowned years ago, and the occupation I picked up afterward all but ensured my family won’t have me back.”

Dasha nodded, then strode over to Baucis and offered her hand. “Whatever you used to be, I guess you’re in the same boat as me, huh?”

Baucis took it with a warm smile. “That I am. There are worse boats, to be sure.”

“I s’pose you should all know more about me than just trying to kill the king,” Dasha said after the reconciliation was over. “I wasn’t just Vestyn’s my whole life. I grew up in the countryside to a family of farmers. Hard labor gave me muscles and stamina, but I didn’t want to tend crops my whole life. Thankfully, the sort of muscles that plow a field learn to swing a blade or a halberd easily enough, and I got work as a caravan guard. And I made some good coin like that for a few years… until one day, we were ambushed.” Her voice tightened; she clenched and unclenched her hands. Serafina didn’t think they were going to get any more out of her.

Baucis said nothing else, but Serafina noticed her squeeze Dasha’s hands in sympathy, a gesture the orc returned. The tour resumed, and Serafina let Baucis take the lead. The whole time, she was re-assessing Baucis. She’d written off confiding in her due to her past in the nobility, but was the fox woman trustworthy after all?

Dasha eventually chose a room of her own, a small-ish spartan one adjoining Serafina’s own. The room boasted only a bed and a few accessories, but Dasha seemed pleased with it. “I could set up a training area in the corner,” she mused aloud. “A dummy, some weapons—gah, who am I kidding, they won’t let me have any of those. Wooden practice ones, then. They’ll do. Hmmm… and weights…”

A gentle touch to Serafina’s shoulder made her jump; she gazed up to find Baucis smiling down at her. “You did well,” the older woman said sotto voce. “I think she’ll fit in nicely here.”

A smile blossomed on Serafina’s face. “You know,” she said, “I agree.”

---

The first meeting between Orfeo and Dasha took place that afternoon in the prince’s chambers. The three concubines waited in his room for him.

The door opened, and the prince entered in his usual outfit—and then shadows followed him. Two palace guards with one of the newer, monstrous kind looming behind.

Baucis looked shocked, a sensation Serafina shared in. Guards had been posted outside the seraglio, but she’d never seem them come in… Dasha tensed up as one of the guards shot her a look of envy and disgust. He was one of the pair who had been guarding her the other day.

Their spears thudded against the floor and Orfeo’s face tightened with displeasure. He turned over his shoulder. “I told you already, didn’t I?” he said. Contempt was writ in his voice. “I don’t need chaperones for my own room.”

The guard who had been staring down Dasha stiffened and returned his attention to the prince. “Given the presence of this violent harlot—” he began.

“Don’t talk about my concubines that way!” Orfeo barked, anger bleeding through. The guard snapped shut, looking shocked. He was not alone—Serafina had not seen him take such firmness with anyone. “Not in my presence or anyone else’s. They’re handpicked companions of mine, chosen for life, and an insult to them is an insult to my judgment. Are you insulting me?”

The guard swallowed. “N-no, Your Highness. I just—your father thought—”

“I’m sure he did,” Orfeo responded. He sounded firm, but Serafina had come to know him. He was fidgeting with one of his rings, a sign of stress. The invocation of his father had upset him. “Nevertheless, this is the prince’s seraglio. So tell me who holds dominion here.”

The guard muttered something and looked at the floor.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question,” Orfeo pressed. “Who holds dominion here?”

“You do, Highness,” the guard muttered.

“Glad to hear it.” He waved them away. “Now leave.”

“I—I suppose we can wait outside this room.”

“You will wait outside the seraglio,” Orfeo commanded, “as you always have! You and all your compatriots will remain there until you have my say-so, and in the meantime trespass here will be an affront against the sovereign. Do I need to ask you to leave a third time?”

“N-no sir!” The guards hurried out of the room; behind them, the beastly hulk lingered for a moment. It met Orfeo’s gaze for a moment and then something invisible seemed to pass between them. The monstrous guard lowered its head in accession and turned to follow.

When the guards were gone, Orfeo deflated, and Serafina let loose a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Dasha and Baucis relaxed alongside her.

Orfeo shut the door, then strode over to sit on the edge of his bed. He met Dasha’s eyes and nodded in acquiescence. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Whatever you might have done before joining the seraglio, you’re now one of us. You should feel safe here. But we do need to talk.” His eyes scanned the room. “Sit where you want.”

After a moment, Dasha grabbed a chair from a desk and sat a few meters away from him. The chair was slightly lower than the bed, but her height made up for it. Their eyes were level—equals. The prince didn’t seem to mind.

Baucis hovered behind Dasha, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. Serafina traded a sororal gaze with the orc, affirming her support, before sitting down near Orfeo. The prince glanced sideways at her, smiling, and reached for her hand. She let him take it and pressed against his paw comfortingly.

After squeezing back, Orfeo turned his attention back to Dasha. “If we don’t address this, it’ll just hang over us forever. You tried to kill my father.”

“Aye.” Dasha’s voice was unflinching but not provocative.

To his credit, Orfeo didn’t ask for justification or apology—though Serafina suspected he craved both. “Normally, your life would be forfeit. By taking you into my harem, however, that has been superseded. And I’m not demanding thanks,” he said, raising a paw. “Just saying something we all know. And I know what they’re saying about our new arrangement in the palace.” His nose wrinkled with distaste. “The law says I have absolute control here, but I promise you this—all of you.” His gaze swept the room, meeting every concubine’s eyes. “I will take you to bed only if you want it. You are not my property.”

Something in Dasha’s face, something quiet, changed—but Orfeo didn’t seem to notice. He continued.

“Whatever your reasons are for wanting my father dead, I probably wouldn’t understand them. All I ask is that you leave that part of your life behind. You’re part of the seraglio now, safe from him—and he is safe from you. I don’t care if you never want to share a bed with me, but do we have an understanding?”

Dasha’s eyes flitted from the prince to Serafina, a momentary movement so fast it almost seemed invisible. Serafina knew what it was about—the only reason she had joined the harem was to participate in a plot against the king, so this agreement was a bald lie.

Nevertheless, Dasha seemed to fall into it readily. “We do,” she said.

Orfeo broke into a smile. He hopped off the bed and approached her—his father’s would-be assassin—with a proffered paw. As before, Serafina couldn’t help but notice how tense and scared he was, and how effectively he was hiding it, his emotions only betraying themselves in little ways like the tremble of his feet and the way his paw twitched as if to twist his rings again.

A childhood spent with Tereus had probably been a master class in how to avoid showing weakness.

Dasha looked impressed that he was approaching someone who might well want him dead. He stopped a pace away, paw still outstretched, and after a moment she rose. The motion was strong and fluid, her abs rippling, and Serafina felt her heart flutter just a bit at that. Damn, why’d my co-conspirator have to be so built?

The newest concubine gripped Orfeo’s hand tight and they shook. The prince’s muzzle broke into a relieved, happy smile. Whatever she had done before, he seemed certain that this was a new chapter. “Welcome, Dasha,” he said.

“Thank you… Prince Orfeo.”

He smiled wider. “Oh gosh, just Orfeo, please. We’re all equals here.”

A few minutes later he took his leave, promising to return that evening. After the door shut behind him, Dasha folded her arms, looking thoughtful. “…well fuck,” she said, amused resignation coloring her voice. “I think I’m starting to actually like the little ponce.”

---

“Hup! Hah! Grrah!”

Dasha pummeled the training dummy ruthlessly with her fists, straw crumpling under her knuckles. It wobbled back and forth on its pliant post and she barreled it with a powerful booted kick. That last blow was enough to split it, straw flying everywhere.

Chest heaving from exertion, she decided to take a breather. Like Serafina’s room, her own chamber was equipped with a small fountain of clear, drinkable water. She filled a waterskin from it, flopped on her bed, and took a long draught. She eyed the mess the broken dummy had made. Well, that was a job for the servants.

At first she’d felt uncomfortable having the servants wait on like she was some kind of noble. She didn’t want them to think she considered herself better than them; she didn’t want to take advantage of them.

But she’d come to realize that a palace servant in the seraglio, particularly Orfeo’s seraglio, was as close to a dream job as a woman could get… provided she wasn’t a prude, that is. The prince was considerate and not pushy, and they were free of the guards and of Tereus himself. It was all the benefits of working high-class without any of the risks. A far cry from how Vestyn had treated his serving girls.

No, it was the servants’ job to see the straw cleaned up—and every little chore was a little more coin in their pockets. Orfeo made sure of that. Dasha had come to see it as a way to bleed Tereus’s coffers, just a little bit.

This was her third—or was it fourth?—training dummy since officially joining the harem a week ago. The prince had spared no expense and quickly helped her transform half of her room into a training ground. There were even weapons—wooden facsimiles, of course, but still.

Dasha stared down at her hand. She was wearing handwraps; she often did while she trained.