The invitation arrived on a gilded scroll, sealed with the golden emblem of the Imperial Palace.
Ahia Senan stared at it, her quill frozen mid-stroke, her scroll of Magigram theory completely forgotten. The wax seal gleamed in the lantern-light—a stylized sun rising over a stylized earth, the symbol of the Servitor Supreme himself.
"A messenger delivered it personally," her roommate—an excitable Masani named Essien—breathed, her eyes wide with barely-contained glee. "He was wearing armor. Real Masquerade armour. With plumes sitting in lily petals!"
Ahia blinked. "The palace sent me a message?"
"Not just a message—an invitation!" Essien practically vibrated with excitement. "Open it! Open it!"
With trembling fingers, Senan broke the seal and unrolled the scroll.
To the esteemed Masani Ahia Senan,
It has come to the attention of the Imperial Gardens that your scholarly interest in rare Aetheric flora has been noted. The palace is currently in need of a consultant, someone with a background in Metriconomy to assist in cataloging and preserving our collection of rare Aetherblooms. Your expertise would be greatly appreciated.
Please present yourself at the Celestial Garden gate at midday, three days hence. A guide will be waiting.
Signed with respect,
Kobe Abena, Head Gardener, Imperial Palace
Ahia read the letter twice. Then a third time.
"Consulting?" she said slowly. "They want me to consult on Aetherbloom preservation?"
"Don't be modest," Essien said, bouncing on her heels. "They want you! This is huge! This is—" She paused, her eyes narrowing.
"Wait. The Celestial Garden? That's in the palace. The inner palace. The part where the Servitor Supreme actually lives."
Ahia's heart stuttered.
"The Servitor Supreme," she repeated, her voice faint.
"The one who refuses to marry," Essien added, her grin widening. "The one who's been turning down Continental princesses for a century. The one who's so impossibly picky that the High Table are practically pulling their hair out—"
"Essien." Senan's voice was sharp. "It's a gardening consultation. That's all."
"Is it?"
"It is."
"And the fact that you just happened to meet him in the palace gardens—"
"Who told you about that?!"
Essien shrugged innocently. "The gardener's assistant mentioned seeing a girl with brown Albaso braids climbing out of a gap in the wall. I put two and two together."
Senan buried her face in her hands. "This is a disaster."
"This is a romance," Essien corrected. "Now, what are you going to wear?"
---
The Celestial Garden — Midday, Three Days Later
Libaax Akoma arrived at the Celestial Garden at precisely midday. He was alone—unusual for him, Idan Odogwu usually insisted on hidden escort—but he had dismissed the Abambowa with a wave of his hand.
"I'm consulting a gardener," he'd said flatly. "I think I can survive a conversation without a guard."
The captain of the Abambowa had looked unconvinced, but had wisely chosen not to argue.
And now here he was, standing in the middle of the garden, surrounded by Aetherblooms, waiting for a village princess who had broken into his palace to study a flower.
This is absurd, he thought. I'm the Servitor Supreme. I have a council to manage. A war to fight. An empire to run.
And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about her. About the way she'd stumbled out of the bushes, covered in pollen and leaves. About the way she'd called him "the man who keeps refusing to get married." About the way she'd looked at him—not with awe or ambition or calculation, but with simple, genuine curiosity.
Just a scholar, he thought. Just a girl who wanted to see a flower.
He heard footsteps on the gravel path. He turned.
And there she was.
Ahia Senan approached cautiously, her satchel of scrolls slung over one shoulder, her Albaso braids neat and tidy. She was wearing a simple gown—green, the color of new leaves—and she looked like she was trying very hard not to trip over her own feet.
"Masani Senan," Libaax said, his voice carefully neutral. "Welcome to the Celestial Garden."
She stopped a respectful distance away, her hazel eyes wide. "Servitor Supreme. I... thank you for the invitation."
"The invitation was from the Head Gardener," he said smoothly. "I'm merely... observing."
"Observing," she repeated, her voice dry. "Of course."
He gestured to the nearest Aetherbloom—a massive specimen with petals that shimmered in waves of blue and violet. "Tell me about these. The Head Gardener mentioned you held a scholarly interest."
Ahia blinked, clearly not expecting him to actually discuss botany. But she recovered quickly, stepping closer to the flower and studying it with the focused attention of a true scholar.
"The Aetherbloom is unique among flora," she began, her voice taking on the cadence of a lecturer. "It absorbs ambient Aether directly, storing it in its petals as a natural battery. The stored Aether creates the shimmering effect. It's a symbiotic relationship, actually—the flower draws Aether from the environment, and in return, the Aether enhances the flower's growth and longevity."
Libaax listened, genuinely interested. "And what exactly is it about it that makes it so rare?"
"Because Aether is everywhere, but it's not equally distributed," she said. "Aetherblooms require a very specific concentration to thrive—too much, and they burn out; too little, and they wither. The conditions in the palace gardens are so perfect, but they're practically impossible to replicate without curation." She paused, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "I've been trying to grow one in my dormitory window, but it keeps—"
"Keeps what?"
She winced. "...Dying."
Libaax laughed—a short mocking ppft he immediately swallowed.
"Perhaps the palace could provide you with a cutting," he offered. "If you're interested."
Her eyes widened. "I... that would be..."
"Consider it a gift," he said. "For your consulting services."
She tilted her head, studying him with that same scholar's curiosity. "Why are you doing this, Servitor?"
"Doing what?"
"Pretending to be interested in botany."
He blinked. "I'm not pretending. I find the subject... unexpectedly fascinating."
She raised an eyebrow. "Ohh?"
"Hm hmm?"
"Oh, I believe that you're interested. But I'm not sure you're interested in botany." She smiled. "You're interested in something else."
Before Libaax could respond, a distant bell tolled: midday. The Celestial Lantern was shifting to its day cycle, golden light beginning to stream through the dome.
Ahia glanced up, a frown crossing her face. "I have to get back to the Academy. My afternoon lecture starts soon."
"Of course," he said. "I'll have the Agojie escort you to the gate."
"Thank you."
As she turned to leave, she paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
"Servitor Supreme."
"Yes?"
"The Aetherblooms." Her smile softened. "They're truly beautiful, you know. You should spend more time with them."
And then she was gone, walking down the gravel path with that same unhurried stride.
He had the Agojie escort me! She realized. He didn't invite me for a gardening consultation. He…!
She shook her head, a smile spreading across her face.
---
The Tohunga's Council Chamber — That Evening
Bura Busara watched the entire exchange through his System's interface. The blips that were Ahia Senan and Libaax Akoma had intersected in the Celestial Garden. They had talked. They had laughed. They had connected.
Again.
"Host, the probability of a narrative spark has increased by 5%. This is becoming... statistically significant."
Bura leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his wrinkled face. And you said I was meddling.
"You ARE meddling."
I'm not meddling. I'm just... opening doors. They're the ones walking through them.
"Semantics."
The best kind of semantics.
He closed the System interface, his eyes gleaming in the dim lantern-light.
Now I just need to keep Sirocco Ahau from finding out about her. If he learns that the Servitor Supreme has taken an interest in marriage...
He frowned. That would be bad. Very bad.
"Do you have a plan?"
I always have a plan, System.
"Care to share?"
Bura chuckled. Not yet. Let's see how the next few days play out.
The Sky and the Earth are getting closer. And the rain is coming.
One way or another.
---