The palace corridors felt longer than Mirha remembered.
Every step toward Arvin's chambers echoed faintly against polished stone, her mind still tangled from the conversation she had just left behind. Her face had regained its composure, but her chest still carried the weight of it.
Behind her, Lord Vharin followed at a respectful distance.
When they finally reached the grand doors, Vharin stepped slightly ahead and turned to her.
"Your Highness," he said gently, "please allow me to enter first."
Mirha paused, then nodded.
"That's fine."
Vharin gave a small bow before knocking.
A guard opened the doors just enough to let him in, then closed them behind him.
Mirha remained outside.
The corridor suddenly felt too quiet.
She clasped her hands together lightly, her fingers still cold despite everything. Her thoughts drifted again—her mother, her words, the way her voice had risen…
She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself.
Inside the chamber—
Arvin sat at the edge of his bed, already changed into lighter attire, though still composed as ever. His posture was relaxed, but his presence filled the room effortlessly.
Vharin entered and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty."
Arvin looked up.
"Lord Vharin," he said calmly. "How may I help you?"
Vharin straightened slightly.
"I wish to request that His Majesty grant Lady Launi residence within the palace until after the banquet."
Arvin's expression shifted just slightly in recognition.
"The Imperial concubine's mother?" he said.
Then, almost casually—
"Of course. I assumed she already resided here."
Vharin lowered his gaze respectfully.
"She is… very modest."
A faint, knowing smile touched Arvin's lips.
"Of course she is."
He leaned back slightly, thoughtful for only a moment before speaking again.
"Have them prepare proper accommodations for her."
A pause.
"An entire wing, if possible."
Vharin bowed deeper.
"You are most kind, Your Majesty."
"I will see to it immediately."
Arvin gave a small nod.
Vharin turned and made his way back to the door.
When he stepped out into the corridor again, Mirha looked up immediately.
Vharin bowed to her.
"Your Highness."
She gave a small nod in return.
Without another word, he stepped aside and continued down the corridor.
The guards opened the doors once more.
Mirha took a quiet breath…
Then stepped inside.
Behind her, the doors closed.
The guards remained outside.
Inside the chamber, it was just her and Arvin.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Arvin watched her.
Carefully.
As if trying to read between the lines, she wasn't saying.
Mirha stood there, composed—but her eyes carried something softer… heavier.
Something unspoken.
And the silence between them waited to be filled.
The chamber felt warmer than the corridor outside—but not lighter.
As the doors closed behind her, Mirha lowered herself into a respectful bow.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," she said softly.
Arvin didn't respond immediately.
She lifted her head slightly, her composure beginning to crack as emotion slipped through.
"For treating my mother well…" she continued, her voice unsteady now.
Her eyes shimmered.
"She… she can be very selfless."
A small, breathless laugh escaped her, though it carried no real humour.
"She never puts herself first."
Arvin's gaze lingered on her.
He wondered briefly how she already knew—Vharin must have spoken quickly—but he let that thought go.
Right now, Mirha mattered more.
"Come here," he said quietly.
There was no command in it.
Just something firm… grounding.
Mirha hesitated only for a second before stepping closer.
Arvin reached for her and pulled her gently into his arms.
The moment she settled against him, the tension she had been holding broke just a little.
He rested his chin lightly against her head.
"Now I know where you get it from," he murmured.
Mirha let out a soft laugh through her tears.
"I can be selfish sometimes," she said, her voice still fragile.
"She doesn't possess that trait."
Arvin pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her.
"When have you ever been selfish?" he asked.
Mirha hesitated.
Then, before she could stop herself—
"I love my Empress's husband."
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Immediate regret flooded her expression.
Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at him.
Arvin stilled.
For a moment, his face gave nothing away.
Then—
"Do you think you are the only one who feels that way?" he said calmly.
Mirha blinked, confusion replacing fear.
"What?"
Arvin continued, his voice steady, almost quiet.
"A lot of women love me."
There was no arrogance in the statement—just truth.
"But I love one woman."
His gaze softened slightly.
"And she is not my Empress."
A pause.
"It's you, Mirha."
Something in her expression shifted.
"So I don't think it is selfish," he added.
Mirha nodded slowly, as if trying to absorb what he had said—though her thoughts still felt tangled.
Her eyes drifted away for a moment…
And landed on something unexpected.
Her clothes.
Folded neatly.
Placed among Arvin's belongings.
"Oh…" she said quietly, stepping toward them.
"I think they brought these by mistake."
She turned slightly.
"I will have them taken to my chambers."
Arvin's expression changed instantly.
"What do you mean—your chambers?" he asked.
Mirha looked back at him, confused.
"I was taken to the west wing," she said.
"I thought that was where I would stay."
Arvin stood.
"And I said you can sleep in my chambers."
His tone wasn't raised.
But it was firm.
Mirha hesitated, choosing her words carefully now.
"Your Majesty… I wish to sleep with my mother tonight. In my chambers."
A small, hopeful smile tried to form.
"And me?" Arvin asked.
Mirha let out a soft, nervous laugh.
But he didn't.
At all.
The smile faded from her lips almost immediately.
He was serious.
"I think…" she began carefully, "I have given you enough throughout the journey."
She tried to lighten the tone slightly.
"Your Majesty cannot still be… hungry?"
Arvin's gaze didn't waver.
"Have you ever asked me when I am fully satisfied?" he said evenly.
Mirha froze.
"It is you who always falls asleep first," he continued.
"I don't think you ever truly know if I am… full, do you?"
Her throat went dry.
"I… I don't," she admitted quietly.
Arvin firmly held her thigh.
"There are nights I have to keep you beside me," he said softly, but intensely.
"Just to quench that."
Mirha couldn't respond.
Her mind raced, her body suddenly very aware of the space between them.
"Her Majesty is down the hall…" she started carefully.
"I—"
"Mirha."
Her name stopped her.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried a warning.
"I want you to choose your words carefully."
Silence fell.
Mirha lowered her gaze briefly, gathering herself.
Then she spoke again—more carefully this time.
"May I at least have dinner with my mother?" she asked softly.
"I will return here… after the night is over."
A pause.
Arvin studied her.
Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"I will wait for you," he said quietly.
His voice was calm again.
But the weight behind it hadn't disappeared.
And Mirha felt it.
The doors closed behind her with a quiet finality.
And only then did Mirha realize how tight her chest had become.
She walked down the corridor slowly at first… then faster.
Her hands trembled faintly at her sides.
The air felt heavier than before—thicker, harder to breathe through.
She swallowed, trying to steady herself.
Why did that feel so intense?
Her heart hadn't calmed since she left the chamber.
She pressed her fingers lightly against her palm, grounding herself as she walked.
Then—
She turned a corner too quickly.
And collided into someone.
"Oh—"
She stumbled slightly, but strong hands steadied her before she could lose balance.
"My apologies, Your Highness."
The voice was familiar.
Mirha looked up.
Yadid.
The palace physician.
He had been there during Nailah's pregnancy—a constant presence, calm and observant. And now, he had followed her to Bukid, continuing his service.
He stepped back immediately and bowed.
"Your Highness," he said with a warm smile, "it is good to see you again."
Mirha quickly composed herself, offering a small smile in return.
"And you as well."
Yadid straightened, his expression kind but professional.
"I apologize for bumping into you," he said.
"I was on my way to inform His Majesty…"
He paused slightly.
"The Imperial Prince is awake."
Mirha's breath caught.
For a moment, everything else—her mother, Arvin, the tension—fell away.
"The prince?" she echoed softly.
Yadid nodded.
"If you wish, Your Highness, you may go see him, he is the cutest."
Before she could even respond—
Yadid turned slightly toward a nearby guard.
"Escort Her Highness to the prince's chambers."
The guard immediately bowed.
"Yes, Physician."
Mirha blinked, a little surprised by how quickly the decision had been made for her.
But she didn't protest.
Instead, she nodded gently.
"Thank you, Yadid."
He gave her another respectful bow.
"It is my duty."
As the guard stepped forward to lead the way, Mirha took one last steadying breath.
Then she followed.
Down another corridor.
Toward something she hadn't expected to face so soon—
The Imperial Prince.