Morning arrived far too quickly. The palace, still heavy with the hush of dawn, soon stirred with renewed urgency as preparations for the banquet began in earnest. Guests were already arriving, their carriages lining the outer courtyards in steady succession. Even Duke Rnzo and Lady Gina had returned, as had General Kain and Princess Goya, their presence adding to the growing sense of anticipation that hung over the imperial grounds.
In the study, Emperor Arvin sat with Kain, the two men exchanging brief words as attendants moved in and out with silent efficiency. The doors soon opened again, and the announcer's voice rang clear through the chamber.
"His Majesty, King Kalan of Lamig. Accompanied by Lord Fahit of Lamig."
Both men rose as the guests entered. King Kalan bowed first, followed by Lord Fahit, before taking their seats opposite the emperor. Arvin studied them with a measured gaze. Kalan appeared fuller than the last time they had met—at Arvin's coronation mere months ago—his face rounder, his bearing still confident. Lord Fahit, on the other hand, looked sharper than before, his hair neatly trimmed, his posture precise.
After the formal courtesies were exchanged, Arvin spoke, his tone casual but observant.
"Your right hand is not with you, Your Highness."
Kalan smiled, clearly amused. "Your Majesty is ever perceptive. Yes—Lord Hosha has gracefully declined to attend this year's banquet."
Arvin lifted a brow slightly. "May I ask why?"
Kalan let out a small, dismissive laugh. "He offered no proper reason. However, he has spent much time traveling throughout the kingdom of late. I assumed exhaustion and excused him."
Arvin nodded in understanding, accepting the explanation without comment.
What Kalan did not say—and what remained unspoken between kings—was that Lord Hosha could not bear the thought of facing Mirha now that she stood as a concubine of the empire. Nor did he mention the chill that had settled over Hosha upon learning that his own father would be present at the banquet.
Arvin then turned his attention to the quieter man beside Kalan. His expression softened slightly as he addressed him.
"Lord Fahit," he said, smiling, "you are most welcome in the imperial palace. Your letter expressing the desire to relocate here has been received—and approved."
Lord Fahit's face lit up at once. He rose and bowed deeply, gratitude clear in the gesture.
"You honor me greatly, Your Majesty."
Arvin inclined his head in response, and after a few final exchanges of formality, King Kalan and Lord Fahit took their leave, the doors closing softly behind them as the weight of the coming banquet lingered in the air.
After the formal audiences concluded, nobles and noblewomen continued to arrive in a steady stream to pay their respects to the emperor. Beyond the main halls, in a shaded courtyard open to the evening breeze, Mirha sat with the other ladies as artists carefully applied henna to their hands. The air was fragrant with herbs and oils, and soft laughter floated between them as they waited for the designs to dry.
Goya leaned closer, her eyes fixed on Mirha's hands.
"Good heavens," she said in awe. "Your henna looks stunning, Mirha. Against your slightly tanned skin, it appears so dark—almost dangerously seductive."
Gina giggled at that and added teasingly, "That is meant only for the emperor, of course."
The three of them laughed quietly, mindful of their surroundings.
After a moment, Gina's expression shifted as a thought struck her.
"When I arrived earlier, I saw Lord Vharin," she said. "He looked rather… lost, wandering the palace as if he'd forgotten where he was."
Goya's eyes widened. "Lord Vharin? As in Lord Hosha's father?"
Both Mirha and Gina nodded.
Gina rested her chin in her free hand, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"I must see him properly," she said. "A man handsome enough to give birth to Hosha must be worth looking at."
Mirha giggled softly, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, a familiar presence approached.
King Kalan stepped into the courtyard just as their henna finished drying. All three ladies immediately rose and bowed.
Gina glanced up at him and frowned slightly. "Why are you here?"
Kalan raised his hands in mock surrender. "Now, now—no need to be harsh, Goya."
Goya squinted at him and said flatly, "Seriously, you've grown fat."
Mirha and Gina burst into giggles, unable to stop themselves.
Kalan placed a hand over his chest in exaggerated offense. "Have mercy," he said. "Do not soil my dignity in front of such beautiful women."
Goya waved him off. "Beat it. They're all taken."
Kalan's gaze drifted briefly to Mirha. He inclined his head politely, his tone respectful.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Precious Concubine."
Mirha smiled gently and returned the nod.
Goya rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic. You've seen Mirha before."
Kalan smirked. "Of course."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving behind quiet laughter and the lingering warmth of shared amusement as the ladies resumed their seats, hands held carefully still, the night settling softly around them.
Mirha, Goya, and Gina walked side by side through the softly lit corridors, their footsteps unhurried as they made their way back to their chambers. The palace was alive with quiet movement—servants passing with lowered gazes, distant voices echoing from other halls—yet around the three women, there was a calm ease born from shared familiarity.
Ahead of them, Kanha appeared from the opposite direction.
The moment she saw them, her steps faltered.
Kanha's shoulders stiffened, her confidence wavering. She was painfully aware that none of them held her in fond regard—not after everything she had done, not after the consequences that followed. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her gown as she prepared herself, forcing her expression into something polite, something acceptable.
Before either group could close the distance, footsteps echoed from a connecting hall.
The emperor emerged.
Arvin's presence shifted the air instantly. His gaze found Mirha without effort, as though drawn to her by instinct alone. He did not slow his stride, did not speak—but his eyes never left her as he passed.
Mirha felt it.
Her heart thudded sharply, heat creeping up her neck. She lowered her head at once, pretending to focus on the floor, unwilling to meet his gaze—not after last night, not after the way his touch still lingered in her memory like a phantom ache. Her breath caught, and she willed herself to stay composed.
Arvin passed without a word, disappearing down the corridor, leaving behind a silence thick with unspoken things.
Only when his footsteps faded did the three women resume walking—now in the direction Kanha had come from.
Kanha stopped immediately and bowed.
She inclined herself toward Goya and Mirha, her movements precise and respectful.
Goya did not acknowledge her.
She walked past Kanha without a glance, her expression unreadable, her disapproval unmistakable.
Gina slowed—but halted when Mirha did.
Mirha turned.
Her smile was gentle, composed, the kind that carried neither warmth nor cruelty—only distance.
"It has been a while, Kanha," she said calmly. "How is Bukid?"
Kanha forced a smile that did not reach her eyes.
"It is… lovely," she replied, her voice carefully controlled.
Mirha nodded once. "Welcome back."
With that, she moved past her.
Kanha turned slightly, hoping—perhaps foolishly—to greet Gina. But Gina had already stepped forward, following Mirha without pause, her indifference sharp and deliberate.
Left standing alone in the corridor, Kanha's pleasant expression cracked the moment their backs were turned.
Her jaw clenched, resentment burning hot in her chest. Nails dug into her palms as she swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat.
Cursing them silently, she turned away and headed toward the henna designers, her steps quick and agitated, her heart heavy with envy and humiliation she refused to show.
The day passed in a blur.
From the moment dawn broke, the imperial palace stirred with relentless activity. Servants moved in organized chaos, polishing marble floors until they gleamed, draping silk banners along the corridors, and arranging fresh florals whose scents mingled in the air. Everywhere one looked, preparations for the following night's banquet were underway.
In Mirha's chambers, the atmosphere was calm but focused.
She sat quietly at the table, eating a light morning meal while attendants worked around her with practiced precision. Some adjusted the delicate folds of her evening gown, pinning and unpinning fabric to ensure a flawless fit. Others stood behind her, fingers moving gently through her hair, sectioning and smoothing it with care.
Mirha lifted her gaze slightly, meeting her reflection.
"I only want one pin in my hair," she said softly. "Big or small—it doesn't matter. Just one."
The attendants exchanged brief glances, then nodded in unison.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
They resumed their work, respecting her simplicity. Mirha exhaled slowly. She had learned that restraint carried its own kind of power—and tonight, she intended to wear it.
Elsewhere in the palace, every chamber echoed with similar preparations. Noblewomen were dressed, jewels laid out, garments steamed and inspected. Anticipation thickened the halls.
In her own room, Kanha sat rigid before her mirror.
Attendants moved around her, braiding and arranging her hair, but she barely noticed them. Her thoughts churned relentlessly, circling the same dangerous idea again and again. Each time she tried to dismiss it, it returned sharper, heavier—until she could no longer ignore it.
One more strategy.
It was reckless. It was desperate. And this time, it came at a cost.
Her fingers curled tightly in her lap as fear crept in. Nailah was not here—there would be no one to shield her, no one to deflect the consequences if this failed. For the first time, Kanha understood that she would stand alone.
This could be her greatest scheme yet…
—or her most devastating mistake.
Kanha stared at her reflection, studying the woman looking back at her—calculating, afraid, resolute.
She drew in a deep breath.
There would be no turning back now.
Her gaze hardened.
She was locked in.