The morning of departure arrived with a crisp, golden light over the palace grounds. Trunks were loaded, horses stamped impatiently, and the long caravan of carriages, guards, and servants stretched out like a glittering serpent ready to wind its way back to Taico.
Mirha stood in the courtyard with her mother, Launi. The two women embraced tightly, Mirha's arms wrapped around her mother's smaller frame as if she could hold onto this moment a little longer.
"Be safe, Mama," Mirha whispered against her hair. "I'll send the carriage in exactly one week. Promise me you'll be ready."
Launi chuckled softly and stroked her daughter's back. "I promise, my heart. Go on now. The emperor is waiting."
Mirha pulled back, kissed her mother's cheek one last time, and turned toward the line of carriages with a heavy heart.
As she approached the imperial section, she noticed Arvin and Nailah already settled in the grandest carriage together. Nailah sat with Prince Kilimah on her lap, the baby cooing softly. Arvin glanced out the window and met Mirha's eyes for a brief second, but he made no move to call her over.
A quiet wave of relief washed over Mirha. She didn't want the sharp, judging stares from the court — the whispers that she had stolen the emperor from his wife and child. Riding separately felt safer, cleaner.
She continued down the line until she reached her assigned carriage. Lord Heman, Arvin's trusted right-hand man, was already waiting. He offered her a respectful bow and extended his hand to help her up the steps.
"My lady," he said warmly.
Inside the carriage sat Lady Mayora — Heman's wife — who smiled kindly and shifted to make room. Mirha settled beside her with a grateful nod.
"Thank you for riding with us," Mayora said gently as Heman climbed in and closed the door.
The carriage lurched forward a moment later. The long journey to Taico had begun.
Mirha leaned back against the cushioned seat, watching the palace walls slowly recede through the small window. The rhythmic clatter of wheels and hooves filled the air, mingling with the distant calls of servants and the occasional cry of the baby from the imperial carriage far ahead.
Heman broke the comfortable silence first.
"It will be a long road, but the weather looks kind. We should reach the first waystation by nightfall."
Mayora nodded, glancing at Mirha with quiet understanding. "You must be tired already. The past weeks have been… eventful for all of us."
Mirha offered a small smile, though her mind was still half with her mother, half with the complicated tangle waiting for her in Taico.
"Yes," she said softly. "Eventful is one word for it."
The carriage rolled on, carrying her away from the place where so many secrets had been born and toward the imperial capital where even more would surely unfold.
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A 3 week into the journey, the royal caravan had reached the wide, calm banks of the great river that marked the final stretch toward Taico. The imperial palace was now only a day's ride away, and the mood among the travelers had shifted from weary anticipation to quiet excitement.
Mirha had just finished freshening up by the water's edge. She sat on a smooth rock, letting the cool breeze dry her damp hair and skin, enjoying a rare moment of peace away from the dust and noise of the road.
Mayora, Heman's wife, joined her shortly after, settling on another stone nearby with a contented sigh.
"Do you feel weird in any way?" Mayora asked, studying Mirha with a curious, gentle smile.
Mirha giggled, tilting her head. "No, I don't. Do I look sick?"
"Oh no," Mayora replied, eyes sparkling with amusement. "You are glowing… so much. And I see a significant increase in your chest."
Mirha couldn't help but laugh, a bright, genuine sound that echoed softly over the water. She glanced down at herself and shook her head.
"I am perfectly fine," she said, still smiling. "And besides, I take my tea faithfully. The chances of being with child are almost equivalent to nothing."
Mayora smiled knowingly, a teasing glint in her eye. "As you say, Your Highness."
Mirha gasped in mock outrage. "Mayoraaa!!"
Mayora laughed, the sound warm and affectionate. "Come on, let's head back. We will be at the imperial palace by dusk."
The two women stood and began walking back toward the caravan together, the late afternoon sun casting long golden shadows across the riverbank. Mirha felt lighter than she had in days, the easy companionship a welcome contrast to the heavier thoughts that had followed her from Èvana.
As they rejoined the others, the distant spires of Taico's imperial palace could already be seen on the horizon — a promise of home, new beginnings, and whatever awaited them there.
The long journey finally came to an end as the royal caravan pulled up to the grand entrance of the imperial palace in Taico. The massive gates stood open in welcome, banners fluttering in the crisp evening breeze.
Inside the carriage, Mirha was struggling. She felt hot, clammy, and short of breath despite the cool air outside. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her back.
Heman noticed immediately. "My lady, are you alright?"
Mirha nodded quickly, forcing a weak smile. "I'm fine."
Mayora turned to her with concern. "But you are sweating, dear."
Mirha pulled out a small cloth and dabbed at her face, trying to steady herself. "It's nothing. Just the long ride."
When the carriage finally stopped, Heman stepped out first, then offered his hand to Mayora. Mirha followed last.
The moment her feet touched the ground, the cold evening wind hit her like a wave. It was overwhelming — too sharp, too sudden. The world tilted. Her vision blurred.
She felt herself sway, light-headed and unsteady.
Heman reacted instantly, catching her before she could fall. He scooped her up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest like a princess. Mirha fit perfectly in his strong arms, her head resting against his shoulder as unconsciousness claimed her.
"Yadid!" Heman shouted, voice urgent but controlled. "Call the physician! Now!"
Arvin, who had just stepped out of the imperial carriage with Nailah and the prince, turned at the sound. His heart dropped the moment he saw Mirha limp and unconscious in Heman's arms. Without a word, he abandoned the welcoming party and strode after Heman, face tight with worry.
Heman moved swiftly and gracefully through the palace corridors, carrying Mirha as if she weighed nothing. The whole scene was handled with quiet efficiency — the guards and servants clearing the way without fuss. The crowd that had gathered to welcome the returning prince and court never even noticed the unconscious woman being rushed inside.
Arvin followed close behind, his usual composure cracked by raw concern. His eyes never left Mirha's pale face.
Heman carried her straight to the nearest private receiving room and laid her gently on a cushioned chaise. Yadid arrived moments later, breathless, with his medical bag in hand.
Arvin stood watch at the doorway, fists clenched at his sides, heart still pounding as the physician began his examination.