On a warm and sunny morning, once Bea and Elira had finished their ice cream, the two of them began strolling through the capital, hoping they might find something entertaining to pass the time.
"Ahmm… Elira, may I ask you something?" Bea asked softly, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"What is it?" Elira replied, her head tilted back as she gazed at the brilliant blue sky above. The sunlight wrapped her in warmth, and a small smile touched her lips as she watched birds glide gently across the horizon.
"Who were the two men who rescued you in the tavern bar?" Bea asked, leaning in a little as she walked.
"Oh? Those two men?" Elira lowered her gaze from the sky and turned her attention back to Bea. A gentle smile spread across her face. "They are Mrs Joana's sons," she answered simply.
She left it at that. Even though Cassian— the actual crown prince of the Highthorne Empire—had been one of those who saved her that night, Elira chose not to mention it. She didn't want the matter to spread any further. Staying silent was better than inviting rumours that might tarnish Cassian's reputation.
After their stroll, Bea had to return home because her aunt needed her, so the two said their goodbyes. Once again, Elira was left walking alone along the street. The day had grown warmer now that it was already afternoon. She held a small packet of cookies she had bought earlier from a merchant who sells cookies—she intended to give them to Mrs Joana as a simple gesture of gratitude.
Elira walked slowly, her eyes lowered to the ground as she reached the apple seller's stall. She glanced at the apples, and a soft, nostalgic smile appeared on her lips. Sylas's favourite fruit.
Every time she and Mrs Joana went to the market, she never forgot to buy fresh apples for him. And every time she returned home, Sylas would immediately eat them with such childlike eagerness that it always made her laugh.
Thinking of him now warmed her chest, and she couldn't help but miss those moments. Whenever she had a bad day, or when she felt bored with the simple routine in Mrs Joana's house, either Sylas or Cassian would brighten her mood without even trying.
But then her smile slowly faded. Her brows lowered with a hint of sadness. It would still be a long time before Cassian and Sylas could visit Mrs Joana's home again.
"I wish I could be appointed as a maid in the palace…" Elira murmured under her breath. She lifted her head, her eyes drifting towards the late-afternoon sky. A light breeze brushed across her cheeks, making a few strands of her hair dance around her face.
"So I could see Sylas and Cassian every day," she added quietly, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and longing.
****
The Emperor's study was wrapped in a gentle, sleepy quiet, the kind that only night could bring. The only source of light came from the firewood crackling in the stone hearth. Its orange glow danced across the walls, throwing shadows that swayed like tired spirits. The warmth softened the room, giving it an almost intimate stillness.
Seated before the fire was Emperor Dwayne of Highthorne. He wore a grey doublet with a high ruffled collar and full sleeves, complemented by brown breeches. A long velvet coat draped elegantly from his shoulders, its folds rich and dark. His gold chain with its large pendant gleamed whenever the flames flickered. Under that shifting light, the maroon strands of his hair shimmered faintly, while his blue eyes, usually sharp, carried the fatigue of the day.
Beside him sat Empress Luwinacita. Her golden hair was tied neatly in a bun, giving her a graceful yet relaxed appearance. Since it was already late, she had changed into a softer dress—yet even in simplicity, she looked naturally regal. The gown was made of deep blue velvet, its square neckline revealing a modest glimpse of her delicate collarbone. Long sleeves flowed past her wrists, embroidered with gold patterns that glimmered faintly with every movement.
Across from the imperial couple, Commander Sybil sat alone on a single couch. His dark blue cloak, pinned with a simple round brooch, draped over his broad shoulders. The tunic beneath fit him with a soldier's discipline, and his worn boots showed years of duty. A streak of silver in his hair added a cold sharpness to his otherwise unreadable expression.
"How is your wife, Sybil?" Luwina asked, lifting her cup and taking a small sip of steaming tea. Despite their occasional quarrels in the past, their bond had long since matured. In public, they addressed each other according to rank. But in private—like now—they spoke as old friends, unconcerned by titles, sharing thoughts freely even as age crept into their fifties.
Sybil's lips curved slightly, though his eyes dropped to the floor, heavy with longing. "She is well," he answered gently. "I simply miss her… more than I expected."
The commander's gaze drifted towards the hearth as if the flames reminded him of Joana's warmth. His posture remained stiff out of habit, yet the sadness around his eyes softened him in a rare way.
"I do pity you sometimes," Luwina said, setting her cup aside. "Your duty keeps you away from home far too often."
"And shall I appoint your son as commander instead?" Dwayne teased with raised brows. "So you can spend every waking moment with Joana, hm?"
Sybil let out a low, amused sound—half snort, half laugh. Dwayne's teasing had been a constant in his life ever since they were young. Age never changed it.
"Silly, my dear," Luwina murmured, giving her husband's shoulder a light pat as if to tame him.
"If I could pass the role to my son, I would," Sybil replied, his voice taking on the stern tone of a father. "But he still needs to grow. He has much to learn before he can even consider stepping into my place."
"You're far too strict," Luwina countered with raised brows.
Sybil shot her a dry look. "Says the woman who's stricter than anyone with her own child."
Dwayne burst into laughter. Luwina rolled her eyes and massaged her forehead as though the two men were nothing but trouble.
"It is not easy raising a stubborn son," she muttered. "Especially one exactly like his father."
"Well, you cannot blame me, my love," Dwayne chuckled. He leaned closer, gently took her hand, and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of it—hoping to soothe her frustrations.
Sybil watched them silently. The tender moment between the imperial couple tugged at something inside him. He longed for Joana's touch, her voice, the comfort of home. Despite his fearsome reputation—cold-hearted warrior, battlefield monster, unwavering commander—there remained a quiet, aching devotion in him. He missed his wife, his children, even the grandchildren who always climbed onto his lap without asking for permission.
"Are we continuing this discussion," Sybil said with an arched brow, "or shall I leave the two of you to your… charming display?"
Luwina flushed pink. Dwayne frowned, clearly unimpressed.
"You're unbearable, Sybil," Dwayne muttered.
"My dear, calm down," Luwina said gently, patting her husband's back again. He straightened himself, cleared his throat, and allowed seriousness to return to his face.
"So," the Emperor began, "what is the situation regarding Morgan?"
"My men questioned him after his capture," Sybil said, his voice turning cold again. "Yet by the next morning, he was found lifeless. We're trying to identify who ordered his death."
"Nothing from the chief investigator?" Luwina asked, worry touching her expression.
"He keeps failing his duty," Sybil answered bluntly. "Whenever we demand updates, he insists the case is closed—or impossible to solve—because the suspect is already dead."
"Do you believe my brother is involved?" Dwayne asked darkly, his blue eyes deepening.
Sybil let out a tired breath.
"In my opinion, yes. But we lack direct proof. Illegal dealings have been rising again, and investigating freely has become nearly impossible. Your brother has grown far too connected."
Luwina leaned forward. "Do you think he wants to regain the power he once held?"
"I do," Sybil replied. "Which is why the Emperor and the Empress must strengthen your influence. The Duke of Vareen may attempt rebellion again."
"I understand," Dwayne said firmly. "Any news about the Gildoran?" he asked.
"For now, after defeating their forces months ago, they remain quiet." Sybil paused, his expression hardening. "However…"
"What is it?" Luwina asked.
"My shadow reported that the Duke of Vareen was seen entering the Gildoran Kingdom," Sybil said, voice dropping into an icy tone. The firelight reflected sharply in his silver eyes. Dwayne stiffened. Luwina gasped.
"You're certain?" Dwayne asked.
"We cannot probe further," Sybil replied. "If my spy is discovered, it will alert them."
"What would Rowan be doing in Gildoran?" Luwina whispered in confusion.
"It's clear," Dwayne said grimly. "He is seeking support from a kingdom known for greed. Rowan is preparing to claim the throne."
"And the one who must be protected…" Sybil said quietly, staring into Dwayne's eyes, "is not you."
"Yes," Dwayne breathed. "I know."
He straightened his spine and continued, the weight of his duty sinking like stone in his chest. "Train my son even harder, Sybil. He will be the one targeted."
The room fell silent. Luwina's heart tightened with fear. There were no assurances—only preparation. And to safeguard the future, the younger ones needed strength… far greater than what had protected the empire before.