The meeting finally concluded, advisors and nobles peeling away in different directions. Rnzo and Kaisen slipped out through one of the side doors, their footsteps echoing softly as they strolled down the long, quiet hallway lined with tall windows.
They spoke in hushed tones, as if the walls themselves might listen.
Kaisen exhaled deeply, his usual composed expression cracking into a boyish grin.
"I can almost feel it, Rnzo," he murmured, lowering his voice. "Lately I've been sending her flowers… and she always accepts them with a smile."
Rnzo glanced sideways at him, amused.
"You sound like you're about to float away."
But Kaisen only continued, excitement bubbling through his words.
"Listen—once Nailah gives me permission, I'll head straight to Kamaya. I want everything prepared before she arrives. Since Queen Mother Raina wants me to escort Nailah back anyway, I might as well use the opportunity to prepare the palace for… her."
His voice softened at the last word.
What neither of them noticed was Kanha passing around the corner—until she stopped.
The moment she caught the name Nailah, her ears sharpened.
She wasn't usually the type to eavesdrop… but this, she told herself, was different.
Just a peek. Just a few seconds.
She leaned gently against the wall, holding her breath.
Inside the hall, Rnzo lifted a hand.
"Alright, alright—calm down, brother. You're getting too excited. But don't you think you should ask her first before you go running to Nailah?"
Kaisen chuckled, warm and confident.
"I have a feeling she's been waiting for this. So I want to speak to Nailah first. Once she approves, then I'll ask her. And why wouldn't she approve? Brother, don't jinx this for me."
Kanha's cheeks warmed.
He was right.
She had been waiting—for years.
Her heart skipped as she imagined Kaisen holding her hands, asking for her future.
Maybe… finally…
But then Rnzo stopped walking. He turned to look at his younger brother with a rare softness.
"You really do love her, don't you?"
Kaisen's smile was gentle. Certain.
"Yes. I do. I love Mirha."
The name hit Kanha like a blade.
Her breath froze mid-inhale.
The world tilted.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Her chest tightened painfully, as if hands were squeezing her lungs.
Her corset felt like it had shrunk two sizes.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
Mirha.
He loved Mirha.
Her steps faltered as she tried to move away—anywhere, anywhere but here. But halfway down the corridor her knees buckled. The floor rose up to meet her, sound dimming into a distant hum.
A few nearby maids gasped, rushing forward.
They caught her just before her head hit the ground.
"Lady Kanha, my Lady—! Someone call for help!"
But Kanha didn't hear them.
Everything had already gone dark.
Princess Goya and Lady Mirha sat together on the veranda overlooking the inner garden, a tray of fresh fruits between them—the gift Gina had sent earlier that morning. The breeze was light, carrying the scent of jasmine from the courtyard.
Goya picked up a slice of star fruit and held it between her fingers with a dramatic frown.
"I hate those things," she said, pointing at it as if it offended her.
Mirha burst into a soft laugh.
"Princess, you're being a little dramatic."
Goya gasped playfully.
"Perhaps. But we can both agree"—she pointed accusingly at the kiwi—"that those are disgusting."
Mirha's face tightened into an exaggerated cringe.
"Oh my goodness, yes," she whispered as if confessing a sin.
Goya's laughter rang across the veranda. She found Mirha's reaction adorable, and it made her laugh even harder. Mirha joined her, their voices blending in bright harmony.
When the laughter mellowed, Mirha brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"How is Kilimah Estate treating you, Your Highness?"
Goya sighed lightly.
"It could be better… but it's great. Peaceful. A little too peaceful at times."
Mirha smiled.
"Peace isn't so bad."
Goya hummed, then tilted her head.
"Tell me, Mirha… have you had any suitors approach you lately?"
Mirha paused, fingers brushing over a grape before choosing not to take it.
"I… don't truly know what the intentions are," she admitted.
"But I've been receiving flowers. From a certain gentleman. and I don't know whether to ask him directly."
Goya leaned in, intrigued.
"Are you tempted to?"
Mirha's cheeks warmed.
"A little. But would that seem inappropriate? Or… desperate?"
Goya waved a hand.
"No, not desperate. But if you ask him first, it may come across as irritated or impatient. It might scare him off. For now…"
She tapped Mirha's hand gently.
"Just accept the flowers politely."
Mirha laughed under her breath.
"At this rate, I might as well have an entire garden by the time he finds the courage to say something clearly."
Goya opened her mouth, ready to tell her about the moment they arrived at the palace—the Emperor glancing at Mirha with an intensity she had never seen—but before she could speak, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.
A maid rushed onto the veranda, breathless.
"My Lady—Lady Kanha has just fainted. She seemed unwell—collapsed in the corridor."
Mirha was on her feet before the maid even finished.
"Lead me to her."
Princess Goya stood just as quickly, smoothing her dress as she followed.
"We're coming."
The fruit tray sat forgotten as they hurried into the corridor, the lightness of the moment dissolving into worry.
When Mirha and Princess Goya reached Lady Kanha's chambers, the atmosphere was tense. Maids hovered in panic, and Kanha lay on the bed—still unconscious, her skin pale and her breathing shallow.
Without hesitation, Mirha stepped forward.
A maid tried to offer an explanation, but Mirha gently took the damp towel from her hands. She reached for the bowl of water sitting on the side table and poured the cool liquid onto the towel before pressing it directly over Kanha's face.
Gasps filled the room.
Even Goya blinked in shock—Mirha had always been gentle, but never this bold.
The cold water did exactly what Mirha intended. Kanha jolted awake, her eyes flying open as she gasped sharply. Mirha immediately softened the towel and began wiping the excess water from her face, checking her pulse with quick, practiced motions.
But as soon as Kanha's blurred vision focused on Mirha's face—everything changed.
With a violent shove, Kanha pushed Mirha backward. The force was so unexpected that Mirha stumbled a few steps, barely catching herself. A stunned silence fell over the room.
Lady Kanha's chest heaved as she glared with unfiltered fury.
Mirha steadied herself, voice still gentle.
" Kanha… are you alright?"
Kanha snarled, her tone dripping with venom.
"It's Lady Kanha. Don't you ever address me like we are equals."
Her eyes burned with resentment.
"You are just a stupid, nobody farmer girl."
Princess Goya's jaw dropped.
The maids froze, horrified.
Mirha's breath caught in her throat—not because of the insult, but because of the intensity behind it. She had almost forgotten this side of Kanha.
But Mirha straightened her posture, steadied her voice, and bowed deeply.
"I'm… sorry if I offended you."
Kanha's anger exploded.
"If you're sorry, then stop infesting my chambers with your filthy presence— GET. OUT!"
Her scream echoed through the entire floor, making the maids flinch as if struck. Goya stepped forward instinctively, protective, but Mirha lifted a hand slightly—asking her not to escalate it.
With one last respectful bow, Mirha turned and walked out quietly, her movements calm despite the humiliation burning in the air behind her.
The moment Mirha exited, Kanha scanned the room… and her eyes widened in horror when she realized Princess Goya had witnessed everything from start to finish.
Kanha swallowed hard, attempting to stabilize her voice.
"Princess— I… I'm so sor—"
But Goya didn't let her finish.
She simply turned her back and walked out, following Mirha without a word.
As soon as the door shut, Kanha's composure shattered. She collapsed onto her bed, sobs tearing from her chest as the weight of what she had done—what she had revealed—crushed her.
Princess Goya hurried down the hallway after Mirha, her skirts swishing against the polished floor. But when she reached the corridor… Mirha was nowhere in sight.
Goya scanned the hall, even peeking into the nearest rooms.
Nothing.
She frowned and spotted Suni, Mirha's maid, carrying folded linens.
"Suni!" Goya called, slightly breathless.
"Where is your lady? Did she return to her chambers?"
Suni looked equally confused and concerned.
"Princess… I thought she was with you. She hasn't returned to her room."
That response chilled Goya.
Mirha wasn't the type to wander aimlessly. If she had disappeared, it meant she was either deeply hurt or trying hard not to cause a scene.
Goya's heart tightened.
She rushed back to the garden terrace where they had been eating fruits earlier, hoping Mirha had simply gone to sit alone—but the cushions were empty, the plates untouched, and the breeze carried only silence.
Goya stood there, staring at the space Mirha had occupied just moments ago—the way she'd laughed about the star fruit, the soft glow in her eyes when she mentioned the mysterious flowers she kept receiving, the gentle calm she always carried.
And then Goya felt the truth settle like a weight in her chest.
She had always known Kanha harbored resentment toward Mirha.
The calculated comments.
The small, subtle attempts to embarrass her.
The cold looks when she thought no one was watching.
But never—not once—did Goya imagine that hatred ran so deep, so venomous, so raw.
"How horrible it must have been for her," Goya whispered to herself.
To endure Bukid… under the same roof as Kanha.
To smile through humiliation.
To stay gentle in the face of cruelty.
Her throat tightened.
Goya clasped her hands and silently prayed,
"Please let Mirha be alright…"
She would have stayed longer, determined to find her friend—but one of Kain's men approached with a bow.
"Your Highness, Prince Kain is ready to depart for Kilimah. He asks that you join him now."
Goya blinked, torn.
She glanced once more around the garden, hoping Mirha would magically appear… but the estate was silent.
With no choice, she nodded.
"Very well," she murmured.
As she followed the guard, worry gnawed at her. She left the palace still oblivious to Mirha's whereabouts—her heart heavy, her thoughts dark with concern… and a growing fear that Mirha had chosen to hide somewhere she could finally break without anyone watching.