The music was already alive when the ladies returned to the ballroom — violins singing above the hum of laughter, silk skirts gliding over marble, and the flicker of chandeliers casting a golden shimmer across the grand hall.
Kanha, Mirha, Gina, and Kiara entered gracefully, their gowns catching the light as they passed through the arched doorway. Heads turned almost instantly. The nobles were already deep in dance, yet the entrance of the Èvana ladies drew a subtle hush, followed by admiring murmurs.
At the high table, King Kalan had traded his ceremonial solemnity for cheer. He now sat casually with Emperor Arvin, Prince General Kain, Duke Rnzo, and Lord Hosha, laughter spilling freely among them. Across from them, Tando sat with an easy grin beside Hosha, his eyes brightening the moment he spotted Kiara among the entering ladies.
"She's back," he said under his breath, then clapped Hosha's shoulder with a grin. "We should go dance!"
Without waiting for a response, Tando rose and made his way toward the dance floor, his smile widening as Kiara met his gaze.
Hosha followed his line of sight and caught sight of Mirha, Gina, and Kanha alongside his sister. His expression softened with mild surprise before amusement flickered in his eyes.
Just then, King Kalan leapt to his feet and raised his glass with his usual boldness, shouting across the hall,
"Biju a bien men, Dansu!"
The room went silent for a beat.
A few nearby nobles blinked in confusion — the phrase, spoken in his clumsy Madish, wasn't what he thought it was.
It was meant to be "Dance, men! The beauties have arrived!"
Instead, it came out as "Dance, men! The beetles have entered!"
There was a pause — then stifled laughter rippled through the upper table. Arvin, Kain, Mirha, and Hosha couldn't help themselves; their laughter broke out almost at once, though each tried to mask it behind a cough or a sip of wine.
None of them noticed the others laughing — each believing themselves the only one who understood the slip in Madish. The rest of the hall simply cheered along, taking the king's call as a signal to dance louder, faster, and freer.
The ballroom filled again with movement — swirling gowns, bright eyes, and the lively pulse of music that made even the most stoic nobles tap their feet.
Tando, grinning like a boy at a festival, went straight to Kiara's side. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his hand.
With a soft laugh, Kiara placed hers in his, and together they glided onto the dance floor, moving in effortless rhythm as if they had been born to dance. Their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the palace seemed alive with nothing but joy and warmth.
Across the floor, Lord Fahit approached Kanha, bowing slightly as he took her hand. "We meet again, precious jewel," he said smoothly, his tone dripping with charm.
Kanha smiled politely, letting him lead her into a few careful steps on the floor. This buttkisser will do for now, she thought, scanning the room for Lord Kaisen. Not seeing him, she decided to bide her time with Fahit, keeping herself composed yet amused.
Nearby, Mirha looked around, feeling the flow of the crowd pull her attention in all directions. Gina remained at her side, and when their eyes met, Mirha smiled warmly, the connection unspoken but comforting. Before Mirha could say anything, Duke Rnzo approached.
He bowed to Gina first, then his gaze slid to Mirha. With a sly wink that made her heart skip, he reached out, and before she could react, he pulled her close. His voice was low, meant only for her ears.
"The room Kaisen west side chambers… help him sober up," he whispered, his expression unreadable, a spark of amusement in his eyes.
Before Mirha could respond, he released her hand, giving her a fleeting bow. Turning seamlessly, he approached Gina, who stood frozen with surprise and wide-eyed astonishment. Mirha blinked, still processing the brief, charged moment that had passed between her and the Duke.
The music swelled again, and the dancers swirled around them, their movements a blur of color and laughter. The night was young, and already the court was alive with mischief, flirtation, and secrets whispered in passing.
From his seat near the high table, Emperor Arvin watched the brief interaction between Duke Rnzo and Mirha with quiet interest. He didn't feel jealousy—he had long since learned to read the subtle currents of the court—but a spark of curiosity flitted through him.
If Rnzo truly wanted Mirha, he thought, he would have acted as decisively as he did with Gina.
Arvin's gaze lingered, thoughtful yet unobtrusive, as Mirha gently extricated herself from the brief encounter and began weaving through the throng of dancers. She moved with the grace of someone fully aware of the room's currents, every step measured, every glance purposeful. Her destination was clear: she needed to help Kaisen sober up before the night grew wilder.
As she passed through the swirling crowd, Hosha suddenly reached for her hand, guiding her toward the dance floor with a polite, confident bow.
"Dance with me," he said, his tone gentle but firm.
Mirha's mind raced, needing to decline without offense. "I… I'm afraid I'm in distress," she said softly, letting her hand slip from his. "I need some air."
Hosha's eyes softened with understanding. "Of course," he replied respectfully, releasing her hand without hesitation. His gaze lingered for the briefest moment, warm and composed, before he returned to the music and the swirling dancers.
With a small, determined nod, Mirha moved away, threading through the crowd until she reached the side chamber as instructed. The sounds of music, laughter, and swirling gowns faded slightly behind her, replaced by the quieter, more urgent purpose that now guided her steps.
Seated at the high table, Emperor Arvin let his gaze wander across the dance floor. His eyes caught his brother, Kain, who was fixated on his fiancée, Princess Goya, as she laughed and twirled among the other ladies. The sight drew a small, knowing smirk to Arvin's lips.
"How is it," he murmured to himself, though loud enough for Kain to hear, "that everyone seems attentive to their ladies… and here you are, my big brother, staring at Goya? Are you… scared, brother?"
Kain's head snapped toward Arvin, eyes wide. "Scared?? Of who?"
Arvin chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair, the golden candlelight catching the curve of his smirk. "Don't mind me," he said casually, waving a hand. "I'm drunk."
Kain shot a sharp look, though the blush creeping across his cheeks betrayed the truth of his embarrassment. He pushed himself from the table, ignoring Arvin's amusement, and strode confidently toward Goya.
Reaching her side, he bowed with perfect composure, then extended his hand with a smooth, commanding grace. "My dance," he said, his voice low but firm.
The other ladies nearby couldn't help but giggle, some blushing at his presence, their whispers mingling with the music. Goya, however, met his gaze with a radiant smile and placed her hand in his.
As Kain led her to the dance floor, their movements fell into rhythm effortlessly. Laughter and music swirled around them, but in that small space of glances and gestures, the world felt entirely theirs—charged with joy, mischief, and the subtle thrill of courtship.
Mirha hesitated at the door, her hand lightly brushing the frame as she peered inside. The room was quiet compared to the lively ballroom, the music and laughter muffled but faintly audible through the thick walls.
Inside, Lord Kaisen sat in a chair, now mostly sober but still flushed from earlier indulgence. Heman stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he observed the scene. Something about Duke Rnzo's instructions lingered in his mind—he couldn't help but wonder what the other man was plotting. Ruso hovered near the table, calm and efficient as ever.
Mirha stepped in, her voice soft and careful. "The Duke sent me… to check on Lord Kaisen." She kept her gaze low, cheeks faintly tinged with pink, hands folded lightly in front of her.
Kaisen turned toward her, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. "Ah," he said, his voice still carrying a faint, playful lilt from his tipsy state.
Ruso, standing close by, spoke first. "He's fine, Lady Mirha. I helped him sober up; there's nothing to worry about."
Mirha nodded quickly, relief flashing across her face. "Oh… okay, then I will…"
Before she could finish, Kaisen spoke up, his voice calm and precise despite a lingering warmth from the wine. "Ruso, please get me more tea. Heman, tell my brother I'm fine."
He then looked at Mirha, eyes locking with hers. "Please… get me the cold water and towel on the table. I feel my body heating up."
Mirha didn't hesitate. She moved quickly but gracefully, fetching the items he requested. She set them down before him, her fingers brushing his hand just slightly, careful to keep the movement natural.
To everyone else in the room, it was simple service. But the subtle timing, the unspoken glance, and the quiet coordination were understood. Heman and Ruso exchanged a brief, knowing look, and without a word, they turned and left the room, closing the door behind them.
For the first time that evening, the room was quiet. Just Mirha and Kaisen, the faint scent of tea and cool water mingling with the soft flicker of candlelight. The world outside, with its dancing, laughter, and courtly intrigues, faded to a distant hum.
Mirha's hands trembled slightly as she dabbed the cold, wet cloth against Kaisen's arms and forehead. She tried to focus on the task, forcing herself to ignore the way his dark eyes lingered on her, unwavering, intense, as if he could see every thought behind her carefully composed mask.
And then—suddenly—his hand shot out and caught hers.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Every rational thought scattered as panic surged. No… he's a great man… he wouldn't… she told herself, clinging to that truth even as her pulse hammered against her ribs.
Kaisen's gaze softened for a fraction of a moment when he noticed her tension, and he gently released her hand. Relief washed over her, though it was brief, because then he spoke—his voice low, steady, commanding yet intimate:
"Mirha… please, have a seat."
She obeyed almost instinctively, her legs trembling as she lowered herself onto the chair, the cloth still damp in her hand. He watched her, unflinching, before leaning forward slightly, his eyes searching hers.
"Do you… have any suitors asking for your hand at the moment?" His question was casual, but the gravity beneath it pressed down on her chest like a weight.
"No… not at the moment," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kaisen leaned back just slightly, his gaze unwavering. "Then…" he said, without hesitation, "I wish to court you, Mirha."
The words struck her like a lightning bolt. Her heart leapt, then froze, then pounded uncontrollably. She instinctively rose from her seat, panic and disbelief warring with the flutter of hope in her chest.
Kaisen rose as well, his movement deliberate, closing the space between them. He saw her panic, but there was no malice—only intensity, focus, and something raw she couldn't yet name.
"I… I'm grateful for your consideration," she said, her voice trembling, "but I prefer a relationship based on love, not…"
Before she could finish, he stepped closer, his eyes burning into hers. "And you think i don't?"
Her breath caught. She froze as the weight of his gaze pressed in, her body stiff, mind spinning.
"Believe it or not," he continued, "but it is you that I want."
With each step, he closed the distance, and Mirha felt the heat of his presence, the magnetic pull of his words. His hand lifted slowly, as if to touch her cheek, and her heart threatened to shatter under the tension of that simple, intimate gesture.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
"Your tea, my lord," Heman called, breaking the spell. Mirha seized the chance to step back, her pulse still racing, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps.
Kaisen, finally, opened the door, letting Heman in. Heman shot Mirha a knowing smile. "Would you like to go dance?" he asked gently.
Mirha returned the smile, a fragile but genuine one, and nodded. "Sure."
As she stepped away, her heart still racing, she cast a glance back at Kaisen. He watched her go, his expression unreadable but burning with intent. The room had shifted—the air thick with tension, the unspoken promise of something dangerous, thrilling, and new.