Mirha got dressed carefully, steadying her breath as she headed toward the dining room. Her heart thudded a little too loudly in her chest. She wasn't ready to face Arvin—not after the way the night had ended, not after him carrying her back to bed like she weighed nothing at all. The memory alone made her cheeks warm.
But when she stepped inside, it wasn't the Emperor waiting for her.
It was Duke Rnzo.
Mirha paused, then gave a slight bow. "Your Grace."
Rnzo turned, surprise flickering before softening into a smile. He approached her, took her hand with practiced ease, bowed, and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles.
"Your Highness."
Mirha hesitated only a second before asking, "How is Gina doing?"
Rnzo didn't answer right away. He studied her face—really looked at her—then said evenly, "Why don't you go and find out yourself?"
Mirha's eyes widened just a little. "You… allow it?"
"Why not?" he replied simply.
Her face lit up. "Oh—wait. Let me tell His Majesty first."
Rnzo caught her wrist gently. "I'll tell him. Your carriage is already outside."
Mirha's happiness was instant and unguarded. She leaned forward without thinking and pressed a quick peck to Rnzo's cheek. "Thank you."
Before he could even react, she was already turning away, skirts swaying as she hurried out. Yuma scrambled after her, trying to keep up.
Rnzo watched them go, then lifted his gaze to find Heman standing nearby, staring at him in open disbelief.
Rnzo laughed, raising both hands. "She kissed me."
Heman's expression remained flat. Unimpressed. Judgmental.
Moments later, Rnzo strode into the study with Heman right behind him. Without bothering with greetings, he announced, "Mirha has left for Magili."
Arvin looked up sharply, eyes narrowing. "Without saying anything?"
"I sent her," Rnzo replied casually. "And she—"
"She's with Lady Gina," Heman cut in smoothly. "She needs a friend."
Arvin's expression shifted at once. The tension eased from his shoulders, understanding settling in. He nodded once and returned to his work, already dismissing the matter.
Rnzo chuckled under his breath. "Anyways," he said lightly, as if nothing of consequence had happened at all.
Mirha's carriage rolled steadily toward Magili, the road unfamiliar beneath the wheels. She leaned slightly toward the window, taking in the view with quiet wonder. The air felt cooler here, fresher, and in the distance the great lake stretched like a sheet of silver beneath the sky. It was calming in a way she hadn't expected.
She turned to Yuma. "Have you ever been here before?"
Yuma nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. A few times."
Mirha smiled and settled back against the cushions. For a moment, her thoughts drifted—uninvited, persistent—to the Emperor. To his towering presence, his careful hands, his gentleness that always seemed too deliberate to be accidental. A soft sigh escaped her before she could stop it.
I really should have told him goodbye, she thought. The realization came with a small ache of guilt. Running off like that felt careless, almost childish.
She looked out the window again, but her mind betrayed her, slipping instead into memories of the late night hours—of his quiet authority, the way he guided her every movement as if the world narrowed to the space between them alone.
Mirha shook her head quickly, cheeks warming. "No," she muttered to herself, pressing her lips together as if that might chase the thoughts away.
The lake drew closer, its surface glinting softly, and she forced herself to focus on the present. Magili awaited, and Gina needed her. Whatever lingered behind her—gentle emperors, restless nights—would have to stay there, at least for now.
When the carriage finally came to a halt before the Imperial Northern Palace of Magili, Yuma stepped down first and offered her hand. Mirha accepted it and descended gracefully.
She froze for a moment.
The palace was breathtaking—ancient stone softened by creeping vines, tall palms swaying gently, the air warm and fragrant. It felt tropical, timeless, as though history itself had chosen to rest here. The place carried a quiet dignity, different from the sharp grandeur of the Imperial Palace, yet no less powerful.
The staff hurried forward and bowed deeply in unison.
"Welcome, Your Highness."
Mirha returned their greeting with a nervous but sincere smile.
Then a familiar voice cut through the formality.
"Your Highness, welcome to Magili."
Mirha turned, eyes widening. "Taji?"
The guard bowed, a wide grin breaking across his face. "It's good to see you again."
She laughed softly. "I never thought I'd see you again, Taji."
Before he could reply, a young woman stepped forward and bowed politely.
"Your Highness, I'm Ona—one of Her Grace's ladies."
Mirha's expression softened as remembrance returned, along with the ache that had brought her here. "Where is she now?"
Ona lowered her gaze. "Her Grace went to the lakeside. She wasn't expecting visitors… it will be dark soon. Please allow me to get you settled while we fetch her."
Mirha shook her head gently but firmly. "No. I'll go to her."
Ona hesitated, clearly torn. She wanted to protect Gina's solitude, the fragile quiet she'd claimed for herself. But Taji, who knew both women well—knew they were more sisters than friends—intervened.
"I'll have a horse brought," he said, already signaling the stable hands. Then, glancing at Mirha with a raised brow, he added, "You do know how to ride, right?"
Mirha giggled. "Of course. Bring it."
Taji frowned slightly. "Aren't you tired, Your Highness?"
"I am," Mirha admitted softly, "but I want to see Gina."
That was answer enough.
Moments later, the horses were brought out. Mirha mounted easily, confidence settling into her posture. Ona and Yuma followed suit, and together they rode toward the lakeside—where dusk was gathering, and where Gina waited, unaware that comfort was already on its way.
Gina was by the lakeside, laughter spilling freely as she played with Yamir, one of her ladies. For the first time in days, she looked light—unburdened, almost carefree.
From a distance, Mirha saw it and slowed her horse.
She dismounted quietly, slipped off her shoes, and let her bare feet touch the cool earth. Each step toward the lake felt careful, reverent—like approaching a memory she didn't want to break.
Gina hadn't noticed a thing.
Yamir did.
Her laughter faltered as she spotted Mirha. She straightened instantly and bowed.
"Your Highness—"
The sudden stillness made Gina turn.
She froze.
Then, slowly, disbelief melted into a grin. "Hello, Your Highness," she said, faking a bow with exaggerated elegance.
Mirha didn't answer.
She simply lifted her shoe and threw it.
"HEY—!"
The shoe barely missed Gina's shoulder.
Yamir gasped. Ona and Yuma stiffened in panic, eyes wide, unsure whether to intervene or faint.
Gina shrieked, then laughed—pure, unrestrained laughter—and lunged forward, tackling Mirha into the grass. They tumbled together, giggling like children, Mirha squealing as Gina tried to pin her down.
Mirha twisted, flipped Gina over with surprising agility, and bolted toward the lake.
Gina snatched the discarded shoe and hurled it after her.
"GET BACK HERE!"
Mirha screamed, half laughter, half mock terror, splashing into the shallow water as the shoe landed with a pathetic plop nearby.
The lakeside echoed with laughter—loud, messy, alive.
Just two girls, barefoot and laughing, exactly where they were meant to be.