Arvin had returned to his chambers earlier, utterly exhausted from the long journey, and had already fallen into a deep, uninterrupted sleep. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the curtains in the evening breeze that drifted through the half-open window. The golden light of the late afternoon filtered in, casting a warm glow across the polished floors and the delicate tapestries that lined the walls.
Meanwhile, Queen Mother Raina made her way to see Mirha, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. As she entered the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure of a woman seated gracefully near the window, bathed in the soft light. Her hair caught the sun in golden streaks, and her posture held a quiet elegance that seemed familiar yet commanding.
"Oh dear," Raina said, her voice light but tinged with surprise, "I didn't know you had an elder sister, your highness."
Mirha's lips curved into a soft smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Your majesty," she replied, bowing slightly, "I… don't have an elder sister. This is my mother."
Launi, who had been sitting with a serene composure, her hands folded neatly in her lap, inclined her head slightly. "Thank you, your majesty," she said with a graceful warmth, her voice calm but carrying the natural dignity of a woman who had endured and risen above hardship.
Raina's eyes widened in surprise, a trace of admiration crossing her features. "Well, I must praise your beautiful aging," she said, her tone both complimentary and playful, as if marveling at a rare treasure.
Launi's lips curved into a small, modest smile. "You are too kind, your majesty," she replied, her tone soft but confident, the kind that comes from being utterly comfortable in one's own skin.
Mirha gestured for Raina to sit, and the three women settled near a low table, where the late afternoon sun illuminated the fine embroidery on the cushions. The conversation drifted naturally to the beauty of Bukid—the rolling hills, the flowering gardens, the subtle scent of jasmine and cherry blossoms carried by the wind. Launi spoke fondly of the mountains where she had spent her childhood, and Raina shared stories of her younger years observing the palace gardens, laughing softly as she recounted her clumsy attempts at archery and riding. Mirha listened, her hands clasped in her lap, occasionally leaning forward to catch every word, her eyes sparkling with warmth and curiosity.
Their peaceful conversation was broken by a distant, playful cry. Raina's eyes twinkled as she recognized the sound of the young prince at play. Without a word, she rose and whispered over her shoulder, "I hope you will give Launi the joy of holding and playing with a grandchild one day," and with a conspiratorial wink, she slipped out of the room, her laughter trailing softly behind her.
Mirha turned to her mother, her own expression a mixture of awe and affection. Launi closed her eyes briefly, a small, tender smile playing across her lips.
"Why are you smiling, mama?" Mirha asked gently, tilting her head.
Launi's voice was soft, almost wistful. "Wouldn't it be… nice?"
Mirha shook her head, laughing softly. "No, mama."
"Why not?" Launi asked, her tone teasing yet reflective. "I was much younger when I had you, my love…" She let her voice trail off, a soft echo of memories that Mirha chose not to interrupt.
Instead, she held her tongue and let the moment pass, her thoughts drifting quietly to the emperor and the delicate balance of their lives. Wanting to move the conversation forward, she asked, "What time is it?"
A maid who had been quietly arranging the cushions and tidying the table stepped forward. "Your highness, supper is ready for you and Lady Launi. You may have it anywhere you like," she said, bowing low.
Mirha's eyes brightened. "Please have it taken to the garden, near the western pavilion," she instructed, her voice calm but carrying the gentle authority of someone who had come into her own.
The maid bowed again. "Very well, your highness. I will return shortly," she replied, glancing back toward the hallway where servants busied themselves with preparations, the soft clatter of dishes and the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread drifting faintly through the air.
Mirha turned back to her mother, a soft warmth spreading through her chest. The garden awaited—a quiet, secluded corner of Bukid Palace, where the sunlight would fall gently across the table, where the breeze would carry the delicate scent of flowers, and where mother and daughter could finally share a moment of peace in a world that rarely allowed them such simplicity.
Launi's eyes sparkled as she took Mirha's hand gently. "Shall we, my precious daughter?"
Mirha nodded, and together they walked toward the garden, their steps light, their hearts full of unspoken love and quiet anticipation.
The evening air of Bukid's western pavilion garden was golden, tinged with the sweet fragrance of blooming jasmine and the soft rustle of leaves from the tall elms surrounding the courtyard. Lanterns flickered gently, casting pools of warm light over the marble tables, their surfaces laid out with silverware, delicate porcelain, and plates of colorful delicacies. The scent of fresh fruit, baked bread, and honeyed desserts mingled with the garden's natural aroma, creating a comforting, almost festive ambiance.
Mirha walked alongside her mother, Launi, helping her settle onto a chair, her hands lingering briefly as she adjusted her mother's posture. The pale pink gown Launi wore flowed softly over her frame, catching the lantern light just enough to reveal the delicate embroidery along the hem. Mirha placed a plate in front of her mother, filling it carefully with roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and a small honey cake.
Just as they were about to begin, Duchess Gina and her mother, Misha Tiavani, approached, accompanied by Lady Reka Monti, daughter of Governor Monti. The women had their own elegance—Gina, tall and poised, her hair pinned in intricate braids, a soft emerald dress complimenting her olive-toned skin; Misha, radiating a calm, matronly grace, her gown a soft blue with silver trim; and Reka, youthful and energetic, her brown hair catching in the breeze, cheeks flushed with excitement.
Mirha helped her mother sit comfortably and took her own chair beside her. Reka, unable to contain herself, rose and bowed before Mirha. Mirha laughed lightly, and Reka broke into a grin. They embraced warmly, the sound of their laughter mingling with the soft evening breeze.
"I missed you, Mirha," Reka said, her eyes shining with genuine excitement. "The entire Bukid misses you! I… no, we didn't recognize you coming out of that Imperial carriage with the Emperor."
Mirha smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Enough," she said gently, her tone playful but firm. "I am exhausted… let's eat."
Misha chuckled softly. "You were truly elegant, precious Mirha," she said, her eyes reflecting pride and admiration. Mirha smiled warmly and thanked her, adjusting herself on the chair as she picked up her fork.
As they began to eat, the gentle clinking of cutlery mingled with quiet chatter. Soon, Princess Goya arrived, her long gown a deep sapphire that contrasted beautifully with her fiery red hair. She paused dramatically at the edge of the garden, pretending to dab at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
"Why did you not call me, Mirha?" she asked in a mock-choked voice.
Mirha laughed softly, shaking her head. "Please, Princess, come sit and eat."
Goya smiled, joining them, and sat beside Gina, who winked subtly at her, clearly aware of the playful dynamics between them. Goya smirked and remarked, "Truly, Bukid is a beautiful place."
They ate together, the conversation flowing freely, the night air cool against their skin as they enjoyed the fruits of the garden feast.
After the meal, Launi stood gracefully. "I shall leave you ladies to enjoy each other's company," she said softly, smiling at Mirha. "I need to rest."
Misha nodded and offered to escort her. "Come, Lady Launi. I will ensure you are comfortable."
With that, the two women disappeared quietly into the palace, leaving Mirha, Reka, Gina, and Goya in the gentle glow of the lanterns. They lingered at the table, savoring a dessert of spiced honeyed fruits and sweet pastry, the conversation turning lighter, more personal.
"Tell me," Reka began, her voice curious, "how is Taico? Really—what was it like for you?"
Gina gave a thoughtful sigh. "It's all sorts of emotions… love, hate, envy, despair, sickness, even glimpses of paradise," she said.
Rexa tilted her head, smiling mischievously. "I get it. But I mean—how was it for you personally?"
Goya chimed in. "I don't think we've formally met."
"Oh, my—where are my manners?" Reka said, laughter twinkling in her eyes. "I am Lady Reka Monti. If you know Kiara, I am her younger sister."
Goya paused, recollecting where she'd heard the name, then glanced at Mirha. Mirha looked away, seeking Gina's calm gaze, which returned a subtle nod. Goya finally smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you. I am Princess Goya of Lamig," she said deliberately, projecting both nobility and charm. She added with a hint of friendliness, "I hope we become great friends."
Rera's eyes sparkled. "I know we will. And first, you're not moving with Lady Kanha… these two facts alone are proof enough."
Goya laughed. "I love you already."
Mirha raised a hand, half in mock protest. "Enough. Now—tell us, Reka—how was Bukid?"
Reka rolled her eyes dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "As usual—Mom, Dad… even Queen Hera have been trying to set me up with knights, dukes, scholars—just about anyone."
Gina laughed softly. "Even scholars? Haha, really? They're desperate."
Rera nodded, still grinning. "It's good though. After all this, they'll finally give up… eventually."
Mirha just smiled quietly, enjoying the conversation.
"And you, Reka? Don't you think one day you'll have to choose someone?" Mirha asked.
Rera paused dramatically, then said with a theatrical sigh, "Well, yes. I would love to… to one day hold my husband's face, kiss him, tell him I love him… and by the seventh month, scream just as loudly as Nailah did for all of Bukid on that fateful morning."
Goya laughed heartily. Gina shook her head in shock.
Mirha's eyes widened slightly. "Seriously, Reka?"
Reka laughed again, throwing her hands up in playful surrender. "And now… I want to know how you climbed the Emperor's bed!"
The group paused, their laughter mingling with the distant chirping of night insects and the faint ripple of the garden fountain.
The garden seemed to hold its breath with them, the lantern light shimmering over four young women, each caught between innocence, ambition, and the complicated dance of palace life.
Mirha paused and licked her lips to explain."It is not really that..."
Goya cut her off.