It was already morning across the Highthorne Empire. Elira and the other maids who had been with her the night before stood huddled, recalling how they'd peeked through the curtains at the feast—just before the scandal between the Crown Prince and Elira had unfolded. With no duties assigned yet, they'd gathered quietly in Elira's room to ask for forgiveness.
"Elira! We heard you've landed in trouble," Rose burst out, stepping forward, her hands trembling at her sides.
"We're so sorry we left you behind!" Ana added, her voice cracking.
Both women looked utterly crestfallen, tears spilling down their cheeks as guilt washed over them. Elira simply offered them a soft, gentle smile.
"There's no need to worry—I'm perfectly alright," she said softly, reaching out to pat their arms in comfort.
"Sob… sob… it's all our fault for abandoning you," Rose sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "And now you're caught up in such dreadful rumors." Word of the incident had already spread through the palace, yet most maids were still unsure exactly who the Crown Prince's supposed lover was. Thankfully, neither Rose nor Ana had breathed a word of Elira's name—even though they knew exactly what had truly happened.
"What if you get dismissed because of us?" Ana whispered, her fingers twisting anxiously in her apron, dread clouding her face.
"Come now, don't blame yourselves… ahaha," Elira gave a strained, light laugh, though inside her chest, her own nerves were fraying. She knew full well the Empress might call for her at any moment to hear what had really taken place.
As the three carried on talking, a sharp knock rapped at the door. All three fell silent, eyes wide with surprise. Elira rose to her feet to answer, and her breath caught sharply when she saw who stood on the other side.
"Straighten yourself up and come with me," came Jovana's firm, unyielding tone. The head maid's words made Elira freeze on the spot; Rose and Ana looked just as shaken. Elira nodded slowly, and the two other maids stepped quietly out of the room to give her space to prepare.
A few minutes later, Elira had changed into her neat maid's uniform, her mind racing with the quiet fear that she might be sent away for good.
She walked silently beside Jovana along the palace corridors, heading toward a destination she already knew well: the Empress's study, where every detail of the night's events would be laid bare. The morning was still and calm; other maids went about their tasks, though Elira could feel eyes brushing past her—rumour had reached them all, but thankfully none yet guessed she was the one involved. All anyone knew was that the Prince had been seen with someone. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, following Jovana's lead, unable to read a single thing in the older woman's quiet, unreadable expression.
Perhaps she is angry with me, Elira thought, glancing away nervously.
"I am not angry with you," Jovana said suddenly, breaking the silence so sharply Elira stumbled almost imperceptibly. "It is simply…." She let out a long, heavy sigh. "It feels as though I failed to keep you safe—just as I promised my sister I would."
Elira blinked in confusion.
"No—"
"We're here."
Elira had barely managed to speak before Jovana interrupted her.
"Your Majesty—we are here," Jovana called out clearly.
The doors swung open at once, held by one of the Empress's ladies-in-waiting, and they stepped inside. There sat the Empress upon her velvet chaise, clad in a deep blue gown stitched with golden fleur‑de‑lis, its square neckline edged with pearls, puffed sleeves layered over fine white linen, and intricate gold thread tracing every hem and seam. Her yellow hair was drawn tightly into an elegant bun, and her sharp crimson eyes remained fixed upon her teacup as she sipped slowly—this was Luwinacita Jane Highthorne, the Empress of the Highthorne Empire. Elira's throat went dry, her hands trembling at her sides as she fought down the terrifying thought that she might face punishment—or worse—for breaking the palace rules.
"Your name," the Empress said, her voice cool and cutting, lifting her gaze to pin Elira where she stood.
"M-my name is Elira," she stammered, bowing her head low.
"Lift your chin, girl."
Elira obeyed, straightening her posture as best she could, though the sheer weight of the Empress's presence pressed down on her. Few in the palace dared meet that gaze; it felt as though it might cut right through you. She shook with quiet fear, but forced herself to stand steady, lest she draw further displeasure.
"So you are the child Mistress Crowholt's took in," the Empress said coldly, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. "How long have you been in Lady Joana's care?"
"N-nearly half a year, Your Majesty," Elira managed to reply, though her voice still trembled.
The Empress's lips curled into a cold, knowing smirk. "And yet here you are… bringing such trouble upon us all."
"Tell me," the Empress went on, her tone sharpening, "why was it that the Duke of Valcourt's daughter found you and the Crown Prince alone together in that secluded spot—the very garden no one ever dares to visit, dark and well out of the way?" She flicked a quick glance toward Jovana, then fixed her gaze back on Elira, waiting in silence for her answer.
I cannot tell her what we were truly doing, Elira's mind raced. All she could recall was the Crown Prince pulling her aside to escape the press of the crowd.
"I was merely walking through the gardens, Your Majesty," she said, keeping her head bowed, "and the Crown Prince and I happened upon one another by chance." Her hands curled tight behind her back, eyes fluttering shut as she spoke the lie.
The Empress's lips curved into a faint, sharp smirk. She rose slowly from her seat and stepped toward Elira, who opened her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat at the Empress's nearness.
"Liar…." the Empress whispered close to her ear.
Elira's knees nearly gave way beneath her.
********
Cassian hurried through the hall, his steps quick and sharp. Devito had just told him Elira had been summoned to his mother's private chambers, and he knew exactly how strict – how unforgiving – the Empress could be. He had to reach her first; he had to stand between her and whatever punishment might come.
"That cruel woman!" he snarled under his breath, striding faster down the corridor. Ahead, coming the other way, he spotted Sylas. At once, Sylas knew exactly what Cassian intended – he too had heard the news, and one look at his friend's blazing eyes told him everything.
Just as Cassian tried to brush past without stopping, Sylas reached out and caught him firmly by the elbow.
"Let go of me!" Cassian snapped, yanking his arm away.
"I know exactly what you're planning, Cassian," Sylas said steadily.
"I have to defend her! This is all nothing but a terrible misunderstanding!" Cassian protested. Sylas felt the same urge to rush to her side – yet he knew acting recklessly would only make things far worse. Worse still, the truth of who the Crown Prince's companion really was might be laid bare for the whole court to see.
"If you storm in there now, you will only make matters worse," Sylas warned.
"I said let me go!" Cassian shouldered past him, knocking his shoulder hard against Sylas's – but Sylas turned and caught him again, desperate to stop his dearest friend from doing something foolish. He was not afraid for Cassian alone; he was terrified that one rash move would drag Elira deeper into peril.
"Is this truly what you want?" Sylas asked sharply. "You have already tied her to this scandal – do you wish to burden her with another?"
"I only want to protect her! None of this is her fault!" Cassian fired back.
"I know that! But sometimes we must trust others to stand guard too. Aunt Jovana will not let any harm befall her," Sylas urged, trying to soothe his friend's fury.
"You have no idea what Mother is capable of, Sylas – not after what she did to you," Cassian said quietly, his voice tight with dread.
"I know her temper," Sylas replied gently. "But she is not as heartless as you believe. Come with me – let us speak somewhere quiet. If the Empress decides against her, then we will step forward together. I give you my word."
Cassian fell silent at last, then gave a slow, reluctant nod. They made their way to the palace training yard – the place where they had spent countless hours side by side, now quiet and empty in the bright morning light. They sat together on the stone steps, lifting their faces to the clear blue sky as the sun shone warm above them, letting the silence steady their racing hearts.
"Tell me," Sylas said at last, turning to him plainly, "how did you come to be alone with her in that garden – and caught so publicly?"
"I never meant to lead her there," Cassian began, his gaze drifting away as he thought back. "It was only…." He paused, the tips of his ears growing faintly pink. Sylas watched him closely, a strange, heavy feeling settling in his chest – one he could not quite name, yet one that left him unsettled all the same.
"It was only what?" Sylas pressed softly.
"I went to fetch a drink," Cassian explained, rubbing the back of his neck with a faint, sheepish smile. "Then someone pulled me behind the heavy curtains by the window – one of the maids who was with Elira. I stumbled right out in front of them, and there she was – all of them huddled there, peeking out at the nobles and the dancers from behind the drapery. We were so close to being seen… I could not bear for anyone to find her in such a place, or speak ill of her because of it. So I took her by the wrist, and led her away to somewhere quiet and unseen."
He smiled softly up at the sky as he spoke, lost in the memory. Sylas watched him – every word rang true, yet something in his own chest felt tight and strange, as though his heart had stuttered for a moment at the thought of them together, alone and unobserved.
"What did you speak of, out there in the dark?" Sylas asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
"Of little things," Cassian said gently. "I asked if she had ever dreamed of wearing gowns like those, or what it might be like to live as a lady of noble birth." In his mind, he wondered – if she had been born to rank, would he have been free to stand beside her openly? The same thought crossed Sylas's mind too: Elira's beauty was striking, her golden eyes unlike any he had ever seen, yet her place was fixed – she was common-born, and no wish could change that. As he gazed upward, he pictured her in rich, golden silk, her brown hair curled and adorned with jewels; for a fleeting moment he imagined himself stepping forward to ask for her hand, to dance with her before the whole court. He shook his head sharply, forcing the image away. I must have lost my senses, he told himself.
"And then… the fireworks began," Cassian went on, his cheeks suddenly flushing deep. "I almost…."
"Almost what?" Sylas asked, leaning forward, curious now.
"Almost… nothing! We simply talked, that is all!" Cassian said too quickly, his voice rising as he scrambled to his feet, desperate to keep what had almost happened –as he realized the sudden embrace he had nearly pulled her into – from slipping out.
"I should go. I will not rush in blindly, I swear it."
"Hey – you cannot just run off, you fool!" Sylas called after him.
Cassian waved a hand over his shoulder without looking back, and was soon gone. Sylas sank back against the stone, watching the soft breeze lift his hair. Can it be… has he truly fallen for her? he wondered, his own chest heavy with something he did not wish to name. All he wanted was to see Elira smile again – yet he had never expected his own heart to twist so sharply at the thought of her belonging to another.
Somewhere in the palace halls, Cassian walked on, his mind still turning – he would keep his distance for now, but he would find out every word his mother spoke, and every choice she made. He would not let her face this alone.