The palace halls were cold and silent, but inside the throne room, the air crackled with tension.
Empress Myreiya sat on her throne, her fingers tapping the armrest impatiently. Today's lessons had stirred something unusual in her — the calmness of the boy she had named Mirror.
The courtiers whispered. Some laughed at the idea that a slave could watch an empress so boldly. Others felt uneasy.
But Myreiya cared little for court gossip.
She called out sharply, "Mirror, come here."
The silver-eyed boy stepped forward, head lowered but steady.
"You do not speak much," she said. "Is it fear? Or are you hiding something?"
He looked up briefly, eyes meeting hers. "I only speak when spoken to, Your Radiance."
She smiled thinly, "Good. Keep to that rule."
But inside, her mind was spinning. Who was this boy? Why did he not break like the others?
That evening, the palace garden glowed under the moon. Myreiya walked alone, her silks brushing the marble floor.
From the shadows, Mirror watched her, silent as always.
He was not just a slave. He was learning. Waiting. Planning.
But tonight, something shifted. A flicker of warmth—something almost like concern—crossed his face.