Mirha sat inside the carriage as the steady rhythm of drums grew louder with every turn of the wheels. The sound rolled through the air—deep, ceremonial, alive—announcing celebration long before it came into view. She heard it, yet her mind was far away, drifting somewhere quiet and unreachable.
The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
Yuma's hand touched her arm, gentle but grounding, and Mirha blinked, pulled back into herself. She offered Yuma a small, grateful smile and gathered her cloak before stepping down from the carriage.
The moment her foot touched the ground, the announcer's voice rang out, clear and commanding, carrying her name across the hall.
Mirha entered with practiced grace, her steps measured, her expression serene. Eyes followed her as she moved to her seat, the fur-lined cloak flowing softly behind her. The hall was already alive with music and motion—dancers turning, fabrics swirling, drums beating in time with the celebration.
Arvin was not yet there.
Neither were the newlyweds, Goya and Kain.
Mirha took her seat quietly, folding her hands in her lap as the dance continued before her. She watched without truly seeing, the music washing over her in waves. Time passed slowly, stretched thin by thought.
Then the hall shifted.
Voices hushed. Bodies turned.
Arvin entered.
Everyone bowed as one, the movement rippling through the hall like a tide. He walked with calm authority, acknowledging the people with small gestures, and came to take his seat beside her.
Mirha drew in a slow, steady breath and settled back, careful to compose herself.
She glanced at him as he raised his hand in greeting, his profile lit by torchlight. He looked exactly as he always did—handsome in a way that was effortless, kind in a way that felt sincere, noble without ever needing to prove it.
Her chest tightened.
How could she not fall in love with him?
The realization struck quietly, without drama, and somehow that made it worse. This had never been his intention. He had only been kind. Patient. Considerate. Everything he had given her had come from duty, from empathy—from pity.
And she had mistaken it for something else.
The truth settled heavy in her chest: she had fallen for someone she was never meant to love.
Mirha bit the inside of her lower lip, the faint sting anchoring her, and turned her gaze back toward the crowd. Slowly, she lifted her chin and smiled—graceful, composed, perfectly fitting the role she had always known how to play.
No one noticed the fracture beneath it.
Shortly after, the hall stirred once more.
Imperial General Kain entered with his bride, Princess Goya, their hands intertwined. They were dressed in white and gold—regal and radiant—Goya's bold red lips a striking contrast to the softness of her gown. The sight of them drew an instant reaction from the crowd.
Cheers erupted.
Applause thundered through the hall as guests rose to their feet, voices lifting in celebration while the couple made their way forward.
Pride and admiration followed them from every corner until they reached their seats. Only then did the hall slowly settle, the joy lingering like warmth in the air.
Servants moved swiftly among the tables, pouring wine into waiting cups, the soft clink of crystal punctuating the fading applause.
Duke Rnzo and His wife stood first, lifting his glass.
"To the great—and to the greatness ahead."
A chorus of approval followed as glasses were raised.
Next was General Manro, Kain's steadfast right hand for countless years. His voice carried quiet loyalty.
"To new chapters."
King Kalan rose after him, Goya's brother wearing a crooked smile.
"To everything you have—and everything still to come."
Lord Heman followed, composed and sincere.
"To your wisdom."
Then another voice stood.
"To your compassion."
Yuma's head snapped up at the sound. The voice was familiar—too familiar—but from where she sat, she could not see who had spoken. Her brows furrowed briefly before the moment passed, swallowed by the murmurs of the hall.
Finally, Arvin rose.
"To family," he said, his voice steady and clear. "To Èvana."
Kain smiled, deeply moved by the love and respect pouring toward him from all sides. He inhaled, ready to speak at last, to offer his own words—
When a voice rang out, loud and unmistakable.
"To my amazing and loving son."
The room stilled.
Queen Mother Raina stood, her presence commanding, her gaze fixed proudly on Kain as the weight of her words settled over the hall.
Everyone rose at once.
A collective bow swept through the hall—deep, reverent, instinctive. Even Kain himself lowered his head, surprise flashing briefly across his face before softening into something warmer. None of them had known she would come. Not on such short notice. Not at all.
When the room settled, Kain lifted his glass again, this time turning toward the woman beside him. His voice carried clearly, steady with feeling.
"To my wife."
Goya met his gaze, her smile unguarded. Then she turned to the crowd, lifting her chin just slightly, her confidence effortless.
"We feast."
The hall erupted.
Applause thundered through the chamber, laughter and cheers colliding as music swelled once more. The celebration surged forward, brighter and louder than before. Kain excused himself and moved toward his mother, offering her his arm with a tenderness that had nothing to do with rank.
"I didn't know you would come," he said softly as he guided her to a seat of honor. "Not on such short notice."
Queen Mother Raina smiled, warmth radiating from her eyes. "And how could I not?" she replied gently. "Your wedding, Kain. My own heart—you are my first child. How could I stay away, hmm?"
She tapped his hand lightly, then waved him closer. "Now go. Bring me Goya. I want to see my daughter."
Kain turned and caught Goya's eye, signaling her over. She approached and bowed respectfully, but Raina clicked her tongue at once.
"Oh, relax," she said, amused. "I am your mother now. Don't make me feel ancient."
Goya smiled, straightening. "In that case," she said lightly, "I won't. But I should warn you—Arvin will not be the only one making you a grandparent."
Raina's eyes widened in delighted shock before she broke into laughter. "You naughty girl," she teased, shaking her head.
Goya laughed with her, and Kain felt a quiet warmth settle in his chest, something steady and right.
Across the hall, the celebration continued, but a different stillness lingered at Arvin's side.
Mirha sat beside him, their closeness threaded with something unspoken—an invisible tension neither had acknowledged since the night before. Arvin shifted slightly, then spoke in a low voice meant only for her.
"I must speak with you tonight," he said. "In my chambers. Don't exhaust yourself."
Mirha inclined her head politely. "Of course, Your Majesty."
He nodded once, then added, "For now, let us greet the Queen Mother."
Together they rose, joined by Heman and Yuma, and approached Raina. They bowed in unison.
Raina's sharp eyes swept over them, lingering just long enough to notice the weariness beneath their composure. Her gaze softened as it settled on Mirha.
"Precious concubine," she said warmly.
Mirha bowed again. "Yes, Your Highness."
"You look beautiful," Raina added.
Mirha smiled gently. "Nothing compared to you."
Raina laughed, pleased. "Don't flatter me, or I'll blush."
She turned to Arvin next. "You don't seem surprised to see me, Your Majesty."
Arvin chuckled. "How could I be? Èvana has its heir—your grandson—and your eldest son is being married. I would only be surprised if you didn't come."
Raina laughed again. "You know me too well." Then, casually, "Now tell me—when are we going to Bukid?"
"It is being prepared," Arvin replied.
Before she could respond, another presence approached.
Kaisen stepped forward, Kanha at his side.
Raina's brows lifted slightly. "Kaisen?"
At the sound of his name, Yuma's heart dropped.
Her eyes fixed on him as recognition struck with brutal clarity. Kai. Kaisen. The realization burned through her, sharp and humiliating. Rage curled in her stomach as she watched him avoid her gaze, his refusal to look at her only confirming what she already felt.
Kaisen bowed to Raina. "Auntie," he said. "This is Lady Kanha—my fiancée."
"Oh," Raina replied, studying them both. Then she smiled, polite and unreadable. "Alright."
She turned back to Arvin almost at once. "Please take Mirha inside," she said gently. "She looks cold."
Mirha blinked in surprise, but Arvin was already guiding her away with a light hand at her back. Yuma bowed quickly and followed, her expression tightly controlled.
Kaisen's eyes followed Yuma as she left, something conflicted flickering across his face.
Raina noticed.
She chose not to say a word.
Arvin slowed his steps and glanced back at Heman and Yuma. There was a knowing calm in his expression as he spoke.
"Why don't you both go dance?"
Heman inclined his head at once. Yuma hesitated only a heartbeat before nodding. They understood. This was dismissal wrapped in kindness.
Arvin turned without another word, and Mirha followed him, their figures disappearing down the corridor toward his chambers, the noise of the banquet fading behind them.
Yuma lingered near the pavilion, reaching for a cup of wine more to steady herself than to drink.
Kaisen stood a few steps behind her.
Her jaw tightened. Without looking at him, she turned and walked past, deliberately brushing by as if he were nothing more than a shadow. She stopped near the stone pillars of the pavilion, hoping distance would end it.
It didn't.
He followed.
Kaisen reached out and caught her wrist.
Yuma spun, panic flashing across her face. "Let go," she snapped, trying to pull free.
Her struggle only tightened his grip. In a sharp, reckless motion meant to still her, he shoved her back against the stone wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
"Behave," he hissed.
The word cut deeper than the force.
Yuma froze—not because she agreed, but in disblief. Her voice dropped, trembling despite her effort to control it.
"Please."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them felt brittle, charged with everything unsaid—recognition, anger, regret. Their eyes locked, and the regret flickered across Kaisen's face before he stepped back, .
Before either could speak, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Kaisen."
Kanha stood a short distance away, her expression carefully neutral, eyes sharp with observation. The space between them widened instantly.
Yuma lowered her hand slowly, rubbing her wrist. She looked at Kaisen once more, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not blind."
Then she turned and walked away, head high despite the tremor in her steps, leaving Kanha and Kaisen standing in silence.
Kanha glanced between his retreating figure and Yuma's back. "We should go inside," she said softly.
Kaisen nodded once, his jaw tight. "Yes. Let's go."