The moment the royal ladies entered the grand hall, they bowed gracefully. Kanha, unable to contain her joy, hurried forward and embraced Empress Nailah tightly.
"I missed you so much," Nailah whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she drew back from the hug. Kanha's eyes softened when she noticed the gentle curve of her cousin's belly. A wave of warmth filled her chest — the Empress was with child.
Across the room, Lady Misha Tiavan's sharp yet kind eyes found Gina. She smiled knowingly, and Gina immediately returned the smile, her heart light with excitement. When Misha subtly signaled her to come closer, Gina obeyed at once, stepping forward like a child returning to her mother's side.
Laughter, greetings, and warm embraces filled the hall — a homecoming of familiar faces and renewed bonds. Yet amidst all the joy, Mirha stood quietly, hands folded before her, unsure where to place herself among the reunions.
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed — Goya entered with Kain by her side. She looked around, her gaze sweeping over the room of nobles she barely knew, and her expression softened when she saw Mirha standing alone. Without hesitation, she walked straight to her and gently took her hand.
Mirha turned in surprise, but when she saw who it was, she smiled softly. Goya leaned in and whispered a shy, "Hi…"
The warmth of that single word melted the quiet awkwardness between them.
Empress Nailah's gaze shifted toward them. "You must be Princess Goya," she said with regal grace.
"I am, Your Majesty," Goya replied, bowing respectfully.
From her seat, Lady Misha's eyes glimmered with amusement as she studied the young princess. "My, oh my," she said, her tone elegant and teasing, "you are a true beauty, Princess Goya."
Goya smiled, still holding onto Mirha's hand — an anchor of comfort in a sea of unfamiliar faces.
A sudden hush fell over the hall as the herald's voice echoed,
"His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Arvin !"
All eyes turned toward the great doors as they opened, revealing Arvin walking in with Rnzo, Heman, and Kaisen following close behind. The gleam of the morning light touched their armor and embroidered coats, casting a noble sheen over the marble floor.
The nobles and attendants immediately bowed. The air was thick with reverence — and anticipation.
Empress Nailah, unable to contain herself, rose from her seat and hurried forward. Her composure wavered, emotion breaking through her royal restraint as she rushed straight into Arvin's arms.
For a moment, the hall was silent, watching the rare display of affection. Arvin hesitated — just briefly — before returning her embrace.
"I missed you," she whispered softly, her voice almost trembling.
Arvin said nothing at first. He only lowered his head, pressing a faint kiss to her hair before gently pulling back. His tone was calm, distant, yet not cold.
"How have you been, Your Majesty?"
Nailah smiled through the thin veil of tears forming in her eyes. "I'm fine."
His gaze softened for a fleeting moment. When he looked down, he noticed the subtle swell of her belly — a quiet revelation. Surprise flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a composed smile. He caught her hand and led her back to her seat, then brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.
"I'm off to rest," he said simply.
As he turned to leave, his eyes swept the hall one last time — and landed on Mirha.
She stood with her head bowed, unaware that his gaze lingered a heartbeat too long. To everyone else, it was a formal exit — dignified and uneventful.
But Princess Goya, standing beside Mirha, noticed.
The flicker of his eyes, the breath Mirha unconsciously held — a moment that passed unseen by all but her.
And then, the Emperor was gone.
Kain called Goya to follow him, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument. Goya cast one last glance at Mirha — she wanted to speak, to ask — but Kain was already leading her away.
Mirha stood there for a moment, the noise of the hall fading behind her. She let out a quiet sigh and made her way to her chambers, eager to change and rest. Yet her mind drifted again and again to the roses still lying on her table.
Later that evening, the palace had settled into a gentle hush. The scent of blooming night jasmine floated through the air.
Gina sat outside beneath the lantern light, the stars glimmering above. Beside her, Lady Misha Tiavan — elegant as ever — was pouring tea with her usual poise.
Misha lifted her cup and smiled knowingly.
"I was told," she began with playful mischief in her tone, "that you and the Duke never left each other's sides while in Lamig."
Gina nearly choked on her tea. Her cheeks flushed pink.
"Mother, that's not true," she protested softly, avoiding her gaze. "Those are just baseless rumors."
Misha chuckled, the sound rich and teasing. "My darling, you know I know you better than that."
Gina blinked, trying to compose herself, then smiled awkwardly.
"I… suppose you do."
Misha's amusement softened. She set down her teacup and studied her daughter quietly before saying,
"You'll be married in three days."
Gina's smile faltered. She turned to her mother, voice low.
"Don't you think this is moving too fast?"
Misha answered without hesitation.
"I think it's not moving fast enough."
Gina looked down, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. Silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft rustle of the night wind.
Misha leaned forward, her tone gentle but firm.
"I know you like to take your time, Gina. You always have. But men…" she paused, searching her daughter's eyes, "men are unpredictable. Today they'll love you, and tomorrow, they may not. So if that day ever comes — when the Duke stops loving you — at least you will have your name. You won't just fade into someone else's shadow."
Gina's throat tightened. She lifted her eyes, meeting her mother's gaze.
Misha smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Gina's cheek. "Go get some rest, my darling. We need you flawless on your wedding day."
Gina managed a soft nod, her lips curving in a fragile smile. But as she rose and turned to leave, the night suddenly felt heavier — the air thicker with thoughts she could not shake.
The palace had fallen silent. The moonlight streamed softly through the silk curtains, painting silver patterns across the floor.
Mirha sat by the window, the dead rose resting gently in her hand. Its petals had withered, but even in its fading beauty, it still looked delicate — fragile, like the thoughts that now clouded her mind.
Her gaze drifted toward the stars, but her mind was far away.
She didn't know what to think — or feel.
Lord Kaisen… did he truly fancy her? Or was it something else entirely — a fleeting affection, a dangerous interest meant for his amusement?
Her fingers tightened slightly around the rose's stem. Did he wish to make her his mistress?
The thought made her chest tighten painfully.
She remembered Kanha's voice clearly, her teasing yet certain tone — "Lord Kaisen shall propose to me one day."
The words echoed now like a warning.
If Lady Kanha ever found out what Lord Kaisen had said to her that night… Mirha's heart grew heavy.
Kanha already looked at her with a quiet disdain. If she learned of this — even by rumor — Mirha's fate would be sealed before she could defend herself.
A small sigh escaped her lips. She looked down at the rose again, turning it slowly between her fingers.
"Why did you say those things to me, Lord Kaisen?" she whispered to the night. "What am I supposed to do now…"
Her voice broke softly at the end, swallowed by the wind that brushed through the curtains.
She laid the rose on her lap and leaned her head against the window frame, eyes glistening but refusing to fall.
Somewhere far beyond the palace, a faint sound of drums echoed — a sign of celebration for the upcoming wedding. Yet for Mirha, the night felt heavier than ever.
The night was quiet in the Emperor's wing — too quiet for Arvin's restless thoughts.
Moonlight spilled through the sheer curtains, casting pale ripples across the bed where he lay awake, his eyes open and unfocused.
Nailah slept soundly in his arms, her breathing soft and steady against his chest. She had refused to rest in her own chambers that night, whispering that she had missed him — that she wanted to feel his warmth beside her.
Arvin hadn't the heart to refuse her.
So he said nothing, only nodded and told her to sleep.
Now, as her delicate hand rested over his chest, Arvin's mind drifted far from the Empress lying beside him.
It drifted to her.
Mirha.
He could still see her smile — gentle yet shy, like sunlight through morning mist. The memory of her lips, soft and full, the light in her eyes when she spoke — it haunted him quietly.
His heart ached in confusion. How could something so wrong feel so painfully alive?
He turned slightly, careful not to wake Nailah, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Her peaceful face pressed into his arm only deepened his turmoil.
Here was his Empress — the woman the realm adored — resting so innocently against him, while his thoughts betrayed him entirely.
Arvin shut his eyes tightly and exhaled through his nose, as if that could banish the image of Mirha from his mind.
He should not want her. He should not even think of her.
Yet, the more he fought it, the more vividly she appeared — her laughter, her voice, the way her hands brushed the hem of her dress when she was nervous.
He clenched his jaw and whispered into the stillness of the night, "Heavens, if this is sin, forgive me."
The moonlight shifted, falling across his face, and finally, exhaustion overtook him.
His eyes grew heavy, but even as he drifted into uneasy sleep, the last thing his heart remembered was not the Empress in his arms — but the image of Mirha, standing beneath the glow of candlelight, her eyes filled with warmth he could never claim.
following days slipped by in a blur of silk, gold, and laughter until at last, the morning of the wedding arrived.
Sunlight streamed through the tall arched windows, painting the bridal chamber in a glow of soft ivory and gold. The air smelled faintly of roses and jasmine — gifts from every corner of Taico.
Inside, Gina stood before a full-length mirror, dressed in the magnificent gown her mother, Lady Misha, had designed with her own hands. The fabric shimmered with pearly embroidery, each thread catching the light like starlight trapped in silk. Around her, the women who had traveled with her from Lamig — Mirha, Kanha, Kiara, and Princess Goya — moved about the room in awe.
Even Empress Nailah had come, her own beauty softened by the gentle roundness of pregnancy. She laughed lightly, her tone teasing but fond.
"They might think it's the Empress's wedding," she said, eyeing the gown with exaggerated envy. "This dress outshines even mine by far."
The room filled with soft laughter, easing the tension that had begun to settle over them all.
Nailah clapped her hands once. "Come, ladies," she said cheerfully. "Let us wait outside for our bride before the guests begin whispering."
The women began filing out in a graceful flurry of silks and perfume — but Gina caught Mirha's hand before she could leave.
"Stay," she whispered.
Mirha turned back, instantly noticing the tremor in Gina's hands. The Duke's usually confident bride looked as pale as the lace she wore. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and her eyes shimmered with tears she tried to blink away.
Mirha stepped closer, her voice gentle but steady.
"You're trembling, my lady," she said softly. "Breathe with me. In… and out."
Gina obeyed, mirroring Mirha's calm rhythm — breathing in deeply, then exhaling the tension slowly. Her shaking began to ease, and her shoulders dropped as a fragile smile replaced her panic.
Just then, a young maid entered, bowing quickly.
"My lady… the Duke has arrived."
Gina froze for a heartbeat, her fingers tightening around Mirha's.
Mirha gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Then it's time," she whispered with a smile. "We're all waiting for you."
Gina nodded, her breath steady now, her expression soft but resolute. Mirha gave a final curtsy and slipped out of the chamber, leaving the bride alone for a moment of quiet before the doors opened to the world that awaited her.