Sunlight spilled through the high arched windows, casting golden patterns across the marble floor of the palace corridors.
Selena, queen mother, moved with quiet dignity, her robes brushing softly against the stone, the embroidery glimmering where the light touched. Courtiers and attendants bowed low as she passed, parting quickly from her path.
Her face was calm, but her eyes carried the weight of memory—of a son once small enough to cling to her hand, now grown and crowned king of the realm.
The air was alive with the hum of the palace—guards standing tall in polished armor, maids going about their business. Yet all seemed to hush in her presence, as though the palace itself honored her passage.
At last she reached the great doors of her son's chamber. Two guards stepped aside and lowered their spears, bowing deeply. She paused only briefly, drawing a steadying breath, before lifting her chin and signaling them to open the way.
As the doors swung wide, the morning light flooded the chamber. Selena stepped in, for a while she took in the features of the room before her gaze finally rested on Ragaleon.
Ragaleon's chamber was vast yet solemn, sunlight streamed in through tall latticed windows, catching the scarlet banners draped along the walls and stirring faint shadows across the polished stone floor.
The scent of burning incense lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of parchment and wax.
At the heart of the room stood a broad oaken table, its surface spread with a great map of the realm. Rivers, mountains, and borders stretched across its expanse, and upon it stood small carved soldiers—miniature knights, horsemen, and archers—placed with precision. Their silent ranks mirrored the armies beyond the palace walls, each piece marking a strategy only the king understood.
Ragaleon perched near the table, cloaked in a robe of deep scarlet that pooled down to the floor like flowing fire. The fabric shimmered under the light, heavy with the weight of kingship. His crown lay not upon his brow but set aside on a nearby stand, for in this chamber he was just like any other man seeking rest.
His hand rested on the edge of the map, fingers brushing against the little wooden soldiers, as though weighing the fate of thousands with each touch.
Selena walked, a faint smile on her face. Ragaleon finally raised his gaze and locked it with his mother's. She leaned away from the table, crossing his hand behind his back as he straightened up.
"Mother? This visit…"
"It was well thought of, son." Selena smiled wearily, taking a seat on a chair in the room.
"I heard the king of Galvestone seeks to avenge his daughter." Selena started off crossing her legs and placing both hands on her lap.
"So it appears, he hasn't affirmed it." Ragaleon walked away from the table, he glided across the room to a wooden drawer with a jar of wine on it.
"The Treasury, lately the master of coins, has been sending signs that it is quickly getting exhausted."
Ragaleon looked away from the wine he was pouring into a golden cup, he knew where his mother was aiming at.
"If this is about Helena's wedding, you have nothing to worry about. The coins are well counted and the cost weighed, there will be ample supplies for Helena's wedding."
Selena felt elated.
"Marvelous! I will see to it that the priest sets a date then." She said rising to her feet, her mission here was accomplished.
"What is the rush?' Ragaleon queries sipping from a cup of wine.
Helena is old enough, tongues have started wagging. It is only right that we wed her off as soon as possible, I reckon three days from now." Selena maintained the smile on her lips, so as not to look suspicious.
She was just a desperate mother, wanting the best for her daughter. Leah won't stand a chance with Vinson, once Helena is wedded off to him.
Ragaleon thought about his mother's words for a fleeting moment, before waving his hand off, giving her a go ahead.
Selena's eyes sparkled with satisfaction, her smile widening.
"Have a blessed day, your majesty." She said before walking away. Ragaleon arched his brows at her words, he turned around to gaze at her, just in time to see her walking out of his chamber.
Your Majesty? This woman was up to something.
***************
Hamstung Imperial Palace
The chamber was warm with the soft glow of sunlight light, radiating through gauzy curtains and dancing across the polished brass basin.
Joya moved quietly about the room, her hands practiced and sure as she poured steaming water into the wide bath, the scent of crushed herbs and rose petals rising with the curls of vapor.
She tested the warmth with the back of her hand, then added a final jug of cool water until it was just right.
Turning, she approached her mistress, princess Omelia with a low bow.
"Your water bath is ready, My lady." She said, lowering her gaze.
Omelia was seated on her bed, but climbed down slowly. The robe she was wearing slipped down from her shoulders and fell into Joya's waiting hands.
With steady hands, Joya guided her Omelia to the bath, helping her step gently into the water. The surface rippled as the lady sank in, the petals swaying like little boats around her.
Joya knelt nearby, attentive but silent, ready to pour scented oil on Omelia tanned skin. In the stillness, the faint sound of water lapping against the basin became the only music of the chamber, wrapping the moment in a sense of a calm ritual.
Omelia's eyes were shut closed, but she slowly opened her eyes and met Joya's gaze.
"For a maid you are quite beautiful." Omelia commended. Joya smiled, retracting her gaze.
"Thank you, my lady. You are also very pretty." She said slowly scrubbing Omelia's shoulders and neck line.
"Even more than my sister, Nafteni?" Omelia asked a trick question, her gaze peering intensively. Joya's words died in her throat, she blinked her eyes a few times before answering.
"Definitely my lady. Your beauty surpasses that of your sister, Nafteni." Joya said, avoiding her gaze.
Omelia scoffed.
"You maids are trained to sugar coat words, what is a lie will be beat down to the truth." Omelia's tone was soft.
"You do not look happy, my lady." Joya said, pouring a handful of water on Omelia's body.
"Is it showing on my face? Best to let it out then." Omelia said, shutting her eyes as Joya washed her thick long hair.
"What bothers you, My lady?" Joya asked.
"The very thought of it eats through me. Someday, I wish to be free from all this burden, the burden of a princess that must fulfill her duty to her parents and the kingdom at large." Omelia's eyes were firmly shut as she talked.
"You will be just fine, My lady. The prince of Galvestone has taken a liking to you, do you not wish to wed him?"
"I would rather die ten times, than bless the day I saw that prince's face." Omelia said with dismay. Joya didn't know when a small chuck escaped her lips.
"What is funny?" Omelia asked, arching her brows.
Joya's cheerful countenance fell and was replaced with a serious one.
"Nothing, My lady. Forgive me." She pleaded.
"There is nothing to forgive, it is indeed ridiculous for a princess of my status to reject a young prince, she is older than five good years. How despicable!
"Young maidens would cut their arms off just to be in your position."
"It is better I be reborn then, and leave a life of solitude." Omelia said between a small laughter.
Steam still lingered in the air as Joya reached out a steady hand, helping Omelia rise from the bath.
Water trailed down Omelia's skin in glistening rivulets, as quickly wrapped her in a length of soft linen, guiding her carefully across the chamber floor.
At the dressing table, garments lay prepared—a gown of fine silk laid across the cushion chair in front of the dressing mirror.
Joya slipped the fabric over her mistress's shoulders with deft, respectful hands, fastening the rope of the dress and smoothing folds until the dress clung with perfect grace.
She then walked to a carved chest and lifted a tray lined with velvet, where strings of pearls, golden bangles, and gemstone pendants caught the light. Bowing slightly, she asked in a quiet voice..
"My lady, which jewels shall you wear today?"
As Omelia gave her choice, Joya arranged each piece with care, placing earrings, and a necklace of different value on the dressing table. She wore them on Omelia.
Finally, she took up a brush of polished wood, drawing it slowly through her mistress's damp hair. Each stroke was patient, gentle, and rhythmic, until the strands gleamed smooth and free. Then she styled Omelia's hair.
"From now on you will be my personal handmaid, you have a way of doing things that I admire." Omelia said, rising to her feet, she walked up to a small chest and took out three golden coins.
Strolling across the room to where Joya was, she placed the coins in her palms.
Joya was simply stunned, she fell on her kneels, her lips kissing Omelia's feet.
"You treat me too well, My lady. I am grateful." She said as she slowly raised her gaze. Omelia was pleased, she took one look at herself in the mirror before making her way out of the chamber.
Joya gazed at the coins in her hand, she savoured the moment for a while before walking out of her mistress's chamber and shutting the door behind her.