Back in the great hall, the banquet slowly unraveled as guests began to retire. Laughter faded into murmurs, silk gowns brushed past marble floors, and servants moved efficiently to clear goblets and extinguish lamps.
Lord Vharin remained behind, his calm gaze sweeping the hall with measured patience. He searched for a familiar figure—too familiar to miss. Kanha was nowhere to be seen.
His brows drew together slightly.
He stopped one of the maids from the west wing, his voice gentle but deliberate.
"Have you seen my daughter this evening?"
The maid bowed quickly. "My lord, I believe Lady Kanha retired early. She often does not stay long at such gatherings."
Vharin studied her face for a brief moment, weighing the answer. Kanha did have a habit of withdrawing when festivities grew loud—but tonight, something felt amiss. Still, he gave a small nod, choosing not to press further.
"Very well," he said quietly.
With that, he turned and made his way to his chambers. The palace corridors were hushed now, the revelry fully spent, candles flickering low as the night settled into stillness.
Yet even as Vharin closed his doors, a faint unease lingered—unspoken, unresolved—as the palace finally fell asleep.
Morning crept into Kaisen's chamber softly, pale light slipping through the curtains like a fragile promise of peace.
Kaisen stirred.
For the first time in weeks, he felt… light. Clear. His body loose, his mind unburdened. He exhaled, a faint smile almost forming as he stared up at the ceiling, enjoying the unfamiliar calm—
Then he turned his head.
The world collapsed.
Kanha lay beside him.
Her skin was ghostly pale, her body unnaturally still, her dark hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink. She looked wrong—too quiet, too cold. A sharp, instinctive fear stabbed straight through his chest.
"No…" he whispered.
His heart began to pound so violently he could hear it in his ears. He became painfully aware of himself, of the sheets, of the intimacy of the space—and dread flooded him all at once.
Hands shaking, breath shallow, he slowly lifted the edge of the covers.
Red.
There was blood dried on the sheets.
The sight ripped the air from his lungs.
His vision blurred, his stomach twisted, and a raw, broken sound tore from his throat.
"Guards—!" he shouted, panic exploding out of him—
Then reality slammed back into place.
If they came in now—
"Don't come in!" he roared, voice cracking. "Don't—call Ruso! Call Ruso now!"
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he turned back to her, pulling her closer to his chest, as if warmth alone could undo what had already happened.
"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Over and over, the words fell from him like a prayer he didn't believe would be answered.
"Oh Lord… please," he whispered desperately, pressing his forehead to hers. "Please…"
He cradled her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, willing her to stir, to breathe, to scold him—anything.
But she didn't move.
She didn't wake.
And that silence—thick, terrifying, final—wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed until it hurt to breathe.
"Why aren't you waking up?" he begged, voice breaking completely.
The morning light kept coming in, indifferent and cruel, illuminating a truth he wasn't ready to face.
"Guards!" he yelled. "Send for my brother—now! Fetch the physicians,"
The guards' voices muffled through the heavy doors, startled, confused, their boots already pounding down the corridor.
Kaisen barely heard them.
He clutched Kanha tighter, his whole body shaking now, rocking slightly as though she were a child he could soothe back to life.
"Please," he whispered again, softer this time, voice breaking into sobs. "how did this happen…Kanha please …"
His mind raced, grasping for sense, for memory—what happened?—but everything past the night before was fractured, blurred, drowned in dread.
He pressed his ear to her chest, desperate for any sign—any flutter, any warmth.
Nothing.
The walls felt like they were closing in, the air too thin to breathe, and for the first time in his life, Kaisen felt truly helpless—trapped in a moment he could not fight, could not outrun, could not undo.
Footsteps thundered closer.
Doors opened.
And still, he held her, whispering apologies into the silence, praying that someone—anyone—would come and fix what he feared was already beyond saving.
Ruso froze the moment he stepped inside.
The sight before him stole the breath from his lungs.
Kaisen was on the floor, shirtless, his back to the bed, shoulders shaking. Kanha lay unmoving atop the sheets, her skin drained of color, her body frighteningly still. For half a heartbeat, Ruso could only stare.
Then instinct took over.
He turned sharply toward the guards, his voice firm, leaving no room for questions.
"Fetch Lady Mayora. Only Lady Mayora. No other maids."
The doors shut behind them as they hurried off.
Ruso faced Kaisen again, lowering his voice. "Get yourself dressed, my lord. We must wait for her."
Kaisen nodded faintly, as if he barely heard him. He rose on unsteady legs, murmured, "Please… look after her," and sank back down once more, hands clenched into fists.
Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Rnzo entered—and stopped dead.
The room told its own story.
His brother on the floor, hollow-eyed. Kanha's pale form on the bed. Ruso seated beside her, silent, grim.
A curse slipped from Rnzo's lips before he could stop it.
"Fuck."
He crossed the room in long strides and crouched beside Kaisen. "What happened?"
Kaisen swallowed hard. His voice came out low, almost empty.
"I… I don't know."
Rnzo searched his face. "Is she alive?"
Silence stretched—thick, unbearable.
"I don't know," Kaisen whispered at last.
"Yes," Ruso said from across the room.
Both brothers turned toward him.
"Then why does she look like this?" Rnzo demanded.
"Shock," Ruso replied calmly. "Severe shock."
Rnzo's frustration flared. "Then why are you sitting there instead of helping her?"
"She needs a bath," Ruso said evenly. "And the medicine is already on its way."
"With who?" Kaisen snapped, panic breaking through.
The doors opened then.
"I'm here."
Mayora stepped inside, carrying a small vial. Her gaze softened the moment it landed on Kanha.
Ruso stood. "Give it to her."
Mayora nodded, but as she moved closer, Kaisen stopped her. "What is that?"
"A mixture of alcohol and green tea," Mayora explained gently. "She'll wake soon."
Kaisen nodded, though his eyes never left Kanha.
Mayora paused, her expression pained. "But first… she should be cleaned. She'll be terrified if she wakes like this."
She glanced at the bed.
Kaisen inhaled sharply, then nodded. Without another word, he lifted Kanha into his arms and carried her into the bathing chamber. Servants were summoned quietly to change the sheets.
Mayora bathed Kanha herself, her movements careful, respectful. When it was done, Kaisen offered his shirt, hands still trembling, and helped lay Kanha back onto the bed.
Only then did Mayora lift the vial once more.
She pressed it gently to Kanha's lips.
And they waited.
It did not take long.
Kanha's lashes fluttered, trembling like fragile wings, before her eyes finally opened.
Pain rushed through her body all at once—dull, throbbing, relentless. It anchored her to the present, sharpened her senses. The first face she saw was Kaisen's.
Hovering. Pale. Terrified.
For a brief second, something unreadable passed through her gaze. Then confusion settled over her features, soft and believable.
Kaisen felt her stir and immediately leaned forward, grasping her hand as though afraid she might vanish again. His eyes were red, glassy with unshed tears.
"My lord…" Kanha whispered, her voice weak, strained, as if every word hurt. "What… what happened?"
Kaisen sucked in a breath that broke halfway. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry."
Her eyes drifted downward, taking in the ache in her limbs, the tender bruises blooming against her skin. The fabric covering her was unmistakable—his coat, far too large, draped around her fragile frame.
The realization seemed to strike her all at once.
Her lips parted. Her breath hitched.
The pain made it easier to cry.
Tears welled, spilling over as her face crumpled. Kaisen tightened his grip on her hand, desperation pouring from him in waves.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, over and over, as though the words might undo whatever had been done. "I swear to you—I never meant—"
The room was heavy with silence.
Ruso stood stiffly nearby. Rnzo's jaw was clenched, his eyes shadowed. Mayora watched with quiet sorrow.
Pity filled the air.
Kanha slowly pulled her hand from Kaisen's grasp. The movement was small—but it cut deep.
She turned away from him and covered her face, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob.
And in that moment, to everyone watching, she looked utterly broken.
Kanha's sobs suddenly broke into a scream.
"Take me out of here!" she cried, her voice raw and shaking. "Please—take me out of here!"
Mayora rushed forward at once, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, steadying her trembling body. As Kaisen instinctively moved to help, Kanha recoiled sharply.
"Stay back!" she shouted, panic flashing across her tear-streaked face.
The command struck him like a blade.
Mayora did not hesitate. She guided Kanha gently but firmly from the chamber, shielding her as they went, murmuring soft reassurances that barely cut through Kanha's distress. The door closed behind them with a dull, final sound.
Kaisen stood frozen for a heartbeat.
Then the storm broke.
He lashed out, kicking a chair aside, sending it crashing into the wall. A table followed. A goblet shattered against the floor. His breath came fast and uneven, fury and self-loathing tearing through him all at once.
"Enough!" Rnzo barked. "Relax—damn it, Kaisen!"
Kaisen ignored him.
He dropped onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. His jaw set, eyes dark with resolve rather than rage now.
"I have to make this right," he said, his voice low but unshakable. "By her. No matter what it costs."
Rnzo watched him in silence, knowing this was no passing guilt.