The scent of sandalwood lingered in the imperial study, soft but grounding, as sunlight filtered through narrow windows, casting slanted bars of gold onto the embroidered carpet. The Queen Mother sat with her usual poise, draped in imperial green with delicate golden threading along the sleeves—a color only she could wear without question.
Across from her, Emperor Arvin leaned on the desk of dark ebony wood, one hand clasped over the other. The letter Kain had delivered earlier sat between them, its wax seal broken but its contents pressing heavier than ever.
"So it was an aphrodisiac," Raina murmured, setting down the porcelain cup of tea she had hardly touched. Her voice was calm, but her brow was furrowed with a mix of thoughtfulness and maternal concern. "And the princess… she's recovering?"
Arvin nodded. "She's stronger than expected. Kain said she kept her composure despite the symptoms."
Raina's lips curved upward in a measured smile. "That's my daughter-in-law."
Arvin gave her a look, half amused. "She's not your daughter-in-law yet."
"She will be," Raina said without pause. "And if someone wished to humiliate or endanger her before the union was solidified, that's a message."
She tapped a long finger against her cup, her sharp eyes scanning the lines of the report once again. "But what's more remarkable is the lady who treated her."
Arvin's gaze flickered.
Raina noticed.
"She acted quickly," Arvin said, a little too quickly. "With precision. According to Kain, her treatment worked better than the physician's attempt."
"Kain rarely gives compliments," Raina said, her eyes never leaving her son. "So if he says she saved the princess, I believe him."
There was a pause.
Then she leaned back, chin lifted slightly. "I would like to meet her. This Lady Mirha."
Without waiting for Arvin's response, she turned to Heman, who stood by the bookshelves with practiced stillness. "Send a summon. Ask Lady Mirha to come to the study. Tell her I wish to thank her personally."
Heman bowed and swiftly exited.
As the doors closed behind him, the silence returned—thicker this time.
Queen Mother Raina noticed it. The slight shift in her son's posture. The way his fingers briefly tapped the wood of the desk before stilling.
She tilted her head ever so slightly, observing him through the veil of maternal intuition that had served her well all these years. Her son was not easily rattled. He had stood unshaken before foreign envoys and wartime generals. He had brokered peace in the north, stared down rebellions in the south.
But now?
Now there was a flicker of something unusual in his eyes. Not fear. Not guilt. Something far more interesting.
Nerves.
"You've met her before?" Raina asked casually, though her tone was light as mist.
Arvin didn't look at her. "No. I've only heard of her in passing. One of Empress Nailah's ladies-in-waiting. Daughter of Launi Eden."
"Ah," Raina said with quiet approval. "The blind farmer. I have heard of her, she is quite popular i tell you,."
Still, her gaze lingered on Arvin's face. He had schooled his expression into something unreadable, as he always did. But she was his mother. She noticed the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, the way he cleared his throat before speaking.
"And yet," she said softly, "you seem nervous."
Arvin's eyes met hers at that.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Then he shrugged faintly, eyes flickering toward the window. "You think too much, why would i be nervous?"
Raina didn't respond. She only looked at him a moment longer—long enough for Arvin to shift his weight slightly, a boyish motion beneath the emperor's calm veneer.
She said nothing more. But her silence wasn't passive.
It was observation.
She would wait. Watch. Understand.
And if what she was sensing was correct, then Lady Mirha was more than a healer, more than a servant. There was something in the air, a current starting to build, something that promised change.
The doors to the imperial study opened with quiet grace, and the warm scent of rosewater drifted in before Mirha even stepped across the threshold.
Her heart thudded once—twice—loud enough in her own ears that she was certain Heman could hear it as he guided her forward. Behind her, Suni hesitated, but Heman turned gently toward the girl.
"She won't be long. One of the palace handmaids will escort her back," he said.
Suni frowned, clearly unwilling to leave her lady's side. But when Mirha turned to offer a small, comforting nod, Suni stepped back obediently, whispering, "I'll wait near the courtyard."
Then the doors shut behind her.
Mirha stood alone.
Her slippers barely made a sound on the polished floor, but the silence was heavy—immense. She could feel the grandeur of the room press against her like invisible hands: the towering shelves of scrolls and bound ledgers, the long mahogany table adorned with maps and wax-sealed letters, the golden rays slanting through the latticed windows.
And sitting in the heart of it all—Queen Mother Raina and Emperor Arvin.
But neither looked at her. Not at first.
Raina was seated in her high-backed chair, elegant and unmoving, her chin tilted toward her son, who stood near the desk. Arvin, however, was looking at her.
His gaze caught hers the moment she stepped in.
Mirha didn't know what to do with that. She lowered her eyes instantly, her fingers tightening slightly around the folds of her dress. She had been taught to never meet the emperor's gaze directly, not unless invited.
She stood quietly in front of them, her head bowed so low that her curls veiled part of her face.
Raina finally spoke. Her voice was gentle—almost musical.
"Look up, my dear. Lift up your head, my lovely girl."
There was such sweetness in her tone that Mirha obeyed without hesitation. Her eyes fluttered upward, slowly, until they met a pair of royal ones—deep, intense, and unmistakably warm.
Arvin's.
And for the briefest moment, neither of them moved. The noise of the world melted into something distant. Their eyes met, curious and unguarded. It was not an exchange of rank, nor a measure of status—it was simply two people seeing each other.
And then Mirha remembered where she was.
She dropped into a low, graceful bow.
"I'm so grateful to be in your presence, Your Royal Highness," she said softly, then turned her gaze to the seated queen. "And our beloved Queen Mother."
Raina's face broke into a smile.
"Oh no, my dear," she said warmly, "you are the kind one. Thank you for helping our Goya. You must allow us to show our gratitude. Do you have any request? Anything at all?"
Mirha's heart squeezed. She had never done anything for reward. Her mother had always taught her: Kindness is a gift you give freely, or not at all. But she also knew the weight of royal generosity and what it meant to decline.
Still, she swallowed gently and offered a humble smile.
"There is nothing I could ask for, Queen Mama—" she paused, flushing. "I mean… Queen Mother. I've already been repaid simply by seeing Princess Goya well. I appreciate your kindness more than I can say."
Raina's brows lifted slightly. Shock, yes—but impressed nonetheless. And behind that, something warmer: pride.
"It's fine, my love," she said. "I just wanted to show you I'm grateful, that's all."
Mirha exhaled silently, relieved.
All the while, Arvin had not said a word.
He was still watching her. Not like a ruler regarding a subject—but like a man struggling to understand something new… something he couldn't quite define.
She was not what he had expected. And that unsettled him more than he liked to admit.
Her voice—so calm, so steady. Her posture, despite obvious nerves, held dignity. And her face, though modestly cast down, was open and full of something soft and strong.
She was already turning to leave when he did something he hadn't planned.
He spoke.
"Mirha!"
His voice, sharper than intended, broke the moment.
Everyone turned—Raina, Heman, even the guards outside twitched toward the sound.
Mirha paused, wide-eyed, then turned back to face him.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
He faltered. He hadn't thought this through. He didn't know what to say—he only knew that he didn't want her to go. That if he let her leave now, he might never get another chance to speak to her like this.
"Umm… thank you," he said at last. "For helping Princess Goya. You have my thanks."
It was clumsy. Awkward.
But Mirha's smile made it worth it.
"It's a pleasure, Your Highness," she said gently.
And just like that, Arvin's heart dropped again.
There was something about the way she said it—as if she weren't overwhelmed by his title, as if her words were sincere and not laced with fear or calculation.
She turned again, preparing to leave.
"One more thing, my dear," Raina said, her voice laced with curiosity. "What are your favorite flowers?"
Mirha blinked, surprised by the question.
"Tulips," she said quietly. "They're so beautiful. Soft but bold."
Raina smiled like a woman who had just uncovered a secret.
"That's all, my dear. You may go."
Mirha bowed. "Thank you, Queen Mother. And thank you, Your Highness. I am grateful."
And with that, she turned and walked out.
The doors shut behind her, and Arvin was still watching the place she had stood.
He didn't know how long he stayed like that. Only when he felt breath tighten in his chest did he realize he had not exhaled since she left.
He stood quickly, as though afraid of his own stillness, and made his way toward the door.
Behind him, his mother watched.
Just as he reached the threshold, she called out—not loudly, but just enough for him to hear.
"Well, what do you know," Raina murmured, a playful glint in her eyes. "Arvin loves tulips too."
The door clicked closed behind him.
And for the first time in years, Queen Mother Raina leaned back in her chair with a knowing smile.
She hadn't expected her son.....
She was so sure Arvin would never feel how could he....and now.
Raina couldn't help but shade tears of Joy
But perhaps…Mirha...no what a cruel joke fate.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the empire would bloom in spring after all.
The moment the doors of the imperial study closed behind her, Mirha exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
It was done. She had stood before the Emperor. Before the Queen Mother. She had spoken, bowed, smiled. Survived.
But now, her legs wobbled beneath her like reeds in a flood.
She barely made it halfway down the hallway when her knees gave in. The world tilted slightly, and just as she felt herself collapsing—
Strong arms caught her.
"Now, now, Mirha," came a familiar, teasing voice. "You didn't think you could faint without me being there to catch you, did you?"
"Gina…" Mirha gasped, wide-eyed, but then she laughed—a soft, breathless sound full of relief and disbelief. She threw her arms around her friend.
Gina grinned and hugged her back tightly. "You did it. You actually did it. I'm so proud of you, you little dove. You're the best."
"I almost shattered into a thousand pieces," Mirha whispered dramatically into her shoulder. "I thought I'd burst into tears right in front of the Queen Mother."
"You didn't." Gina pulled back to study her. "You stood like a lady raised in court. You even corrected yourself when you called her Queen Mama. That alone deserves applause."
Mirha giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It just slipped out."
They began walking, Mirha leaning slightly on Gina's arm. The palace halls were calmer now, and their footsteps echoed softly as they passed the ivory pillars and blooming vases.
"So…" Gina nudged her slyly. "How was the Royal Study?"
Mirha groaned, laughing. "It was like glass. So clear and polished, I thought I might break it just by breathing. Every corner was too perfect. I was afraid to step too hard."
Gina chuckled. "And?"
Mirha stopped walking.
Her fingers curled slightly, eyes distant. "And the Emperor…"
Gina arched a brow.
Mirha's cheeks flushed pink.
"He… He's the most handsome man I've ever seen," she admitted under her breath. "I didn't know people could look that regal up close. His eyes are even more striking than I'd imagined."
"Ohhh," Gina said with a sly smile. "So the Crown Prince—no, the Emperor himself—left quite an impression, hmm?"
Mirha swatted her playfully. "Stop it. It's not like that."
"Not yet," Gina said, raising both brows. "But you didn't not look like a painting standing in that hallway just now. And the way you blushed? Darling, your cheeks matched the palace roses."
Mirha buried her face in her hands, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. "You're impossible."
"Always have been."
They rounded a corner, and the familiar doors to Gina's chambers came into view. Mirha's steps slowed just slightly. Her mind wandered to the last time she had seen Gina here—and the man who had followed her in.
She turned her head slightly, voice light but curious.
"So… where were you and the Duke last night?"
Gina stopped walking.
While in the Emperor's chambers
Heman hadn't meant to linger.
Truly, he hadn't.
He had gone to ensure Lady Mirha made it back safely to her quarters, as Queen Mother Raina had requested. But the soft hum of conversation drifting from around the corner had made him pause. Not intentionally—he had simply heard his name once and then realized the voices weren't speaking about him at all.
They were speaking about the Emperor.
More specifically, Lady Mirha was speaking about Arvin.
And oh… was she speaking fondly.
"She called you the most handsome man she's ever seen," Heman repeated aloud with a dramatic flourish.
Arvin turned sharply, his expression confused. "What?"
Heman was already grinning like a fox in the henhouse. "The most handsome man she's ever seen," he said again, as if savoring the taste of the words. "Her exact words. I overheard her telling Lady Gina just moments ago. She was positively pink with it, might I add."
Arvin narrowed his eyes. "You're making this up."
"Would I lie to you?" Heman gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "I serve the Empire with unwavering loyalty."
Arvin groaned and leaned back against the carved wooden frame of the corridor window, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're shameless."
"And you, my Emperor," Heman said, stepping forward and lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper, "are hopelessly unaware of how charming you are. If only you could've seen your own face when she walked in. You looked like a man trying to remember how breathing works."
Arvin scowled. "I was being polite."
"You were being enamored."
"I was being formal."
"You were being smitten," Heman teased.
Arvin sighed deeply, looking up toward the high glass windows as if the heavens might save him from this humiliation.
"I asked you if Crown Prince Kalan had arrived. That was your task. That's why I sent you," Arvin reminded him with dry exasperation.
"Oh, right." Heman waved a dismissive hand. "Kalan's ship is delayed. Something about the northern winds. He'll arrive tomorrow morning instead. Now back to more pressing matters—Mirha—"
"There are no pressing matters involving Lady Mirha," Arvin said quickly, standing straight.
"Is that why you called her name when she was about to leave?" Heman lifted a brow. "Everyone turned. Even the Queen Mother looked at you like you'd just confessed a sin."
Arvin flushed and turned away, pretending to examine a vase on a pedestal beside him. "I only wanted to thank her properly."
"You sounded like a boy trying to speak to a girl for the first time in his life. 'Uhm, thank you for helping Goya… you have my thanks…'" Heman imitated with theatrical stiffness.
Arvin exhaled through his nose, low and annoyed.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Of course I am," Heman beamed. "You're finally becoming human."
Arvin turned his head, giving his most dignified glare. "If you tell anyone—"
"I won't. Your secret is safe with me. But," Heman said, clapping a hand on Arvin's shoulder, "if you keep looking at her like that, everyone will know soon enough."
Arvin looked down, the faintest curve tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
"She said tulips," he murmured quietly, almost to himself.
Heman blinked. "What?"
Arvin looked out the window. "When my mother asked her what her favorite flower was… she said tulips."
Heman tilted his head slowly. "You love tulips."
"I know," Arvin said, his voice soft.
For once, Heman didn't tease. He just stood beside his emperor—his friend—and gave a slow, knowing nod.
"Well," he said finally, "I suppose you'll need to walk the garden paths more often."
Arvin didn't answer.
But in his mind, he already imagined it: tulips in bloom, and her smile waiting beneath the sun.