The palace woke up the next morning like it had survived a mild war.
Servants whispered. Guards stood straighter. Nobles pretended nothing had happened while absolutely everything had happened.
And in the center of it all sat Aerin, King of Aqura, drinking tea that had gone cold thirty minutes ago.
He stared into it like answers might float to the surface.
"Your Majesty," Lina said gently, "you've been holding that cup for a while."
"I'm trying to absorb wisdom through osmosis," Aerin replied.
"That's not how tea works."
"That's not how kingship works either, but here we are."
Across the room, Elira crouched by the window, eyes scanning the courtyard with the intensity of someone who expected Valessara to rappel down from the sky at any moment.
"She has not struck yet," Elira muttered. "That is concerning."
Cassian leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. "That's what scares you?"
"Yes."
"Good."
The door opened.
Mira walked in.
The room changed.
Not dramatically — there was no gasp, no music swell — but in the quiet way gravity shifts when something important enters.
She was composed. As always. Calm eyes. Steady posture. A woman who refused to let chaos dictate her.
"Aerin," she said softly.
He looked up instantly.
"Hi."
That was all he managed.
She smiled.
"We should talk."
Elira immediately stepped between them.
"I am here," she announced.
"Yes," Mira said politely, "we noticed."
Aerin sighed. "Elira, can you give us… two minutes?"
Elira hesitated.
The Harem Alarm, floating near the ceiling, chimed gently.
Elira frowned at it.
"…Two minutes," she agreed, backing away. "But I will count."
Mira took a seat across from Aerin.
"You look tired," she said.
"I was kidnapped," Aerin replied. "It was emotionally exhausting."
She nodded. "I heard."
Aerin swallowed. "You didn't run to me."
"I knew you'd come back," Mira said calmly. "You always do."
That almost broke him.
"I stood up to her," he said quietly. "Just a little."
Mira smiled faintly. "I heard that too."
Aerin stared at his tea.
"She's planning something," he whispered.
"Yes," Mira said. "And so are we."
Valessara was not idle.
She never was.
In the east wing, she sat with her personal advisors — sleek, dangerous men and women who looked like they had never smiled unless it was profitable.
"The king is becoming inconvenient," Valessara said, sipping wine. "That cannot continue."
"He has popular support," one advisor noted.
Valessara smirked. "So did every ruler before I removed them."
"You intend to—"
"No," she said. "I intend to humiliate him until he begs for structure."
Her eyes gleamed.
"And if he does not?"
"Then," Valessara said pleasantly, "we remind Aqura who really holds their future."
Mira and Aerin walked the palace corridors later that afternoon.
No guards.
No Elira — who had been distracted by a cat.
They moved side by side, not touching, but close.
"I won't cry," Mira said suddenly.
Aerin blinked. "I wasn't expecting you to."
"Good," she replied. "Because she wants me to."
He nodded. "She wants to break everyone."
"She can't break me," Mira said simply.
Aerin looked at her.
"I wish I were like you."
Mira smiled. "You are. You just apologize while doing it."
They both laughed quietly.
At the end of the hall, Cassian waited.
"I've got news," he said. "Valessara's people are spreading rumors."
"What kind?" Aerin asked.
"That you're unstable. Weak. Easily manipulated."
Aerin winced.
Mira folded her arms. "That won't work."
Cassian tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because people have watched him be kind," Mira said. "And kindness leaves deeper marks than cruelty."
Cassian blinked.
Then smiled. "You're dangerous."
"I know."
Elira appeared from behind a statue.
"I have discovered her weakness," she announced.
Aerin and Cassian groaned.
"No murder," Aerin said.
"I was not planning murder," Elira replied. "I was planning exposure."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "That's new."
"She is cruel to servants," Elira continued. "I have collected statements."
Cassian stared. "You've been interviewing people?"
"Yes. I brought cookies."
"…Of course you did."
The Harem Alarm chimed approvingly.
That night, Valessara tried again.
She arrived at a public dinner and loudly announced that Aerin would not be attending because "he finds large gatherings overwhelming."
The nobles murmured.
Then Aerin walked in.
Late.
Calm.
Standing tall.
Mira at his side.
Valessara froze.
Aerin met her eyes.
"I find cruelty overwhelming," he said quietly. "Not people."
The room fell silent.
Mira didn't smile.
She didn't need to.
Elira watched from a chandelier.
Knife sheathed. For now.
The apology basket arrived at dawn.
It was enormous.
Two guards struggled to carry it through the palace gates, grunting as if they were hauling a small, offended horse. The basket itself was woven from thick reeds, decorated with ribbons in the colors of the Consortium of Khar—the same Consortium that had kidnapped Aerin, failed to ransom him, and then returned him like a cursed library book.
Aerin stared at it from the top of the stairs, wrapped in a robe, hair a mess.
"…Is that for me?"
Lina squinted at the attached note. "It says, 'Our sincere regrets for the misunderstanding involving your body.'"
Cassian choked on a laugh.
Elira appeared instantly, blade drawn. "It is a trap."
Mira, calm as ever, folded her hands. "It's an apology."
Elira narrowed her eyes. "Apologies are traps."
Aerin stepped forward, curiosity stronger than fear, which was not a trait he possessed often.
"What's inside?" he asked.
A guard pried the lid open.
Aerin leaned in.
Inside were:
three loaves of artisan bread
six jars of honey
a bag of imported tea
a folded silk blanket
a small wooden plaque engraved with the words: PLEASE DO NOT SPEAK TO OUR MEN AGAIN
and, bizarrely, a stuffed toy shaped like a donkey wearing a crown
Aerin blinked.
"…Why is there a donkey?"
Cassian grabbed the note tucked beneath it and read aloud.
"'A symbolic gift to honor your resilience and to represent our leader, who has not slept since the incident.'"
Aerin's mouth fell open.
"That's… kind of sad."
Lina snatched the plaque. "This is the funniest diplomatic artifact I've ever seen."
Elira sniffed the bread suspiciously. "Poison?"
Aerin took a bite.
Elira stared in horror.
Cassian stared in admiration.
Mira stared in quiet resignation, like she'd accepted that Aerin was destined to die in a stupid way.
Aerin chewed thoughtfully. "It's very good bread."
Elira grabbed his face gently but aggressively. "Are you alive?"
Aerin nodded. "Yes."
Elira exhaled. "Good. I approve of this basket."
Lina arched a brow. "You approve now?"
Elira nodded solemnly. "It contains food and regret. Regret is a sign of weakness."
Aerin swallowed. "Please don't hunt them."
Elira blinked. "I will only hunt if necessary."
Cassian muttered, "That's not comforting."
The Council Split (Featuring Halbrecht's Emotional Collapse)
By midmorning, the palace had resumed its favorite activity:
Pretending everything was fine while actively falling apart.
Lady Merrowin called an emergency council meeting. The chamber was packed—advisors, ministers, and the newly emboldened nobles who had decided that oil wealth made their opinions heavier.
Valessara sat near the front, dressed in black and gold, looking bored and superior.
Aerin entered with Mira beside him.
Valessara's eyes flicked to Mira with irritation so sharp it could've cut glass.
"Ah," Valessara said, voice pleasant. "The king brought his… comfort assistant."
The room tensed.
Aerin's jaw tightened.
Mira remained calm, expression neutral.
Lina leaned toward Cassian and whispered, "If I had a poison budget, it would be gone by now."
Cassian whispered back, "If Elira hears that, she'll take it as authorization."
Elira, in the shadows behind a column, nodded approvingly as if she had, in fact, heard it.
Merrowin slammed her staff lightly on the floor. "Enough. We are here to discuss security and sovereignty."
Halbrecht pushed a stack of documents forward like he wanted to throw them at someone.
"Foreign powers are testing us," he snapped. "The Consortium tried to ransom our king. Dravakar is watching. Thryndel—" he glanced at Valessara with contained fury, "—is already inside our walls."
Valessara smiled. "You're welcome."
Halbrecht made a noise that suggested a man dying inside.
Merrowin continued, "We must decide: do we proceed with the Thryndel engagement, or do we renegotiate our diplomatic posture?"
Aerin lifted a hand.
"I'd like to renegotiate my life," he said.
A few nobles laughed nervously.
Valessara didn't.
Merrowin looked at Aerin with sympathy and steel. "Your Majesty… we need unity."
Aerin looked around the room.
And realized something uncomfortable.
There were two groups now:
the nobles and ministers who looked at him like a person
and the ones who looked at him like a resource wearing a crown
He swallowed.
"I want to speak," he said.
Valessara sighed loudly.
Aerin ignored her.
"I know I'm not… impressive," Aerin began. "I don't fight. I don't threaten. I don't enjoy being a symbol."
The room quieted.
"But I do love this kingdom," he said. "And I will not let anyone treat it like a prize. Including… my own fiancée."
Valessara's smile froze.
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
Halbrecht looked like he might faint from relief.
Merrowin watched carefully.
Valessara stood slowly. "You are emotional."
"I'm human," Aerin said.
Valessara tilted her head. "That is not an advantage."
"It is," Mira said calmly, speaking for the first time.
Every eye turned to her.
Mira's voice was quiet but clear. "A kingdom does not survive on intimidation alone. It survives because people believe their ruler cares whether they suffer."
Valessara's eyes narrowed. "And who are you to lecture me?"
Mira met her gaze without flinching. "Someone who has watched him carry burdens you'd never notice."
Valessara's lip curled. "He is weak."
Aerin's hands clenched.
Cassian shifted, ready.
Elira's silhouette sharpened, blade hand twitching.
Mira remained calm. "Then why are you trying so hard to control him?"
A soft gasp went through the chamber.
Valessara's smile thinned. "Because he's valuable."
"And that," Mira said, "is why the kingdom will never love you."
The silence after that felt like a door shutting.
Merrowin cleared her throat, voice carefully neutral. "This council is split."
Halbrecht raised both hands. "Split? It's shattered."
Aerin exhaled shakily.
Valessara sat back down like a queen at a theater performance. "Proceed with the wedding," she said smoothly. "Or prepare to be devoured."
Merrowin's gaze sharpened. "We will… consider all options."
Aerin glanced at Mira.
Mira's eyes said one thing:
We plan.
Valessara Gets Worse (Because Of Course She Does)
If Valessara had been cruel before, she was now offended.
And Valessara, offended, became a storm with manners.
That afternoon, she toured the palace kitchens and declared half the staff incompetent.
"You," she said, pointing at a terrified baker, "have flour on your sleeve."
The baker stared down. "Y-yes, Your Highness. I bake."
Valessara blinked slowly. "Disgusting."
In the corridor, she snapped at a maid for walking too slowly.
In the courtyard, she criticized the garden arrangement.
"These hedges are uneven."
"They're… plants," the gardener said.
Valessara smiled. "Then make them obey."
Aerin watched from a distance, shoulders sinking a little more each time.
Cassian stood beside him, jaw tight.
"She's pushing you," Cassian said.
"She's pushing everyone," Aerin murmured.
"She wants you to react," Cassian said. "So she can call you unstable."
Aerin nodded faintly.
Mira approached, calm as a lake. "She's trying to provoke chaos."
Aerin gave a weak laugh. "That's my job."
Mira's mouth twitched—almost a smile. "Not anymore."
Mira and Aerin Begin the Plan (Annulment, Not Escape—Yet)
That evening, they met in the library.
It was their safe place now.
Elira was already there, naturally, perched on top of a bookshelf like an extremely judgmental cat.
"I heard you planning," Elira announced.
Aerin startled. "How?"
"I am above you," she said. "In elevation and awareness."
Mira sat calmly at the table and unfolded a map.
Aerin blinked. "Is this a kidnapping map?"
"It's a palace layout," Mira said.
Elira nodded. "For efficient removal."
"No removal," Aerin said automatically.
Mira placed a finger on a document.
"Annulment," she said. "Not escape."
Aerin swallowed. "Is that possible?"
Mira nodded. "Yes. But it must be political, not emotional."
Cassian entered quietly and shut the door behind him.
"I'm in," he said.
Aerin blinked. "You don't even know what 'in' means."
Cassian shrugged. "It means I'll protect you while you do something stupid but noble."
Elira leaned forward. "I will assist."
Mira's gaze flicked up to Elira. "No murder."
Elira looked offended. "This is discrimination against my skills."
Mira remained calm. "It's protection of our future."
Elira considered.
"…Fine," she said, then added, "I will only murder conceptually."
Aerin whispered, "That's not a thing."
"It is now," Elira replied.
Mira pointed to the map again. "Valessara's power comes from the council believing Thryndel's protection is necessary."
Cassian nodded. "So we make them believe it isn't."
Aerin stared. "How do we do that without starting a war?"
Mira said, very calmly, "We show them she is the war."
Elira smiled. "I like this."
Mira continued, "We document her cruelty. Her threats. Her disrespect. We turn public sympathy against her. Then we use the Oil Covenant clauses to demand renegotiation."
Halbrecht's voice suddenly came from behind a stack of books.
"I hate that I understand this."
Everyone jumped.
Halbrecht stepped into the light looking like a man who hadn't slept since the treasury incident.
"I came to find the oil reports," he said defensively. "Then I heard scheming."
Aerin raised a hand. "We're not scheming. We're… planning responsibly."
Halbrecht rubbed his eyes. "The words 'responsible' and 'palace' don't belong in the same sentence."
Mira remained calm. "Will you help us?"
Halbrecht stared at Mira.
Then stared at Aerin.
Then whispered like it physically hurt:
"Yes."
Cassian nodded approvingly. "Good."
Halbrecht exhaled. "We need evidence."
Elira raised her hand. "I have already collected evidence."
Everyone stared.
Elira produced a small notebook.
Cassian blinked. "You keep a notebook?"
Elira nodded proudly. "Yes. It contains threats and also recipes."
Aerin squinted. "Why recipes?"
"I am learning normality," Elira said.
Mira's lips curved slightly. "Show us."
Elira flipped the notebook open.
It was written in neat handwriting, but the contents were alarming:
Valessara insulted gardener: 'make them obey'
Valessara told maid 'crawl if you must'
Valessara called Aerin 'asset' again
Recipe: honey bread (do not poison)
Plan A: blade (crossed out)
Plan B: blade but discreet (crossed out)
Plan C: emotional assassination (approved)
Cassian stared. "Emotional assassination."
Elira nodded. "No blood. Maximum damage."
Aerin looked weakly at Mira. "Is this safe?"
Mira remained calm. "Safer than Elira's first drafts."
Elira looked offended again. "My first drafts were elegant."
Meanwhile, Elira's New Murder Plan Begins Appearing in the Background
Despite the "no murder" rule, Elira began appearing… everywhere.
Like a recurring omen.
A curtain shifted in the hallway—Elira, watching.
A suit of armor clinked—Elira, inside it.
A flower arrangement trembled—Elira, behind it, holding a blade she claimed was "for peeling fruit."
Cassian caught her under a staircase sharpening that "fruit knife."
"Elira," he sighed, "why are you here?"
"I am protecting," she said.
"From what?"
"From Valessara's face," Elira replied.
Cassian closed his eyes. "That's not a threat."
Elira looked thoughtful. "It is to Aerin."
The Puppet Show Attempt
The next day, Valessara hosted a "community morale event."
Which sounded harmless.
Until it became clear what kind of event it was.
A puppet show.
In the palace courtyard.
For the common citizens.
Aerin stood with Merrowin and Halbrecht as children gathered with their parents.
Valessara stood proudly beside Aerin, hand on his arm like she was showing off a purchase.
"Observe," she whispered. "They adore spectacle."
Aerin whispered back, "I thought they adored oil."
Valessara smiled. "Oil is spectacle."
The puppet show began.
A puppet king with a wobbly crown stumbled onto a stage.
He tripped.
The crowd laughed.
Aerin flinched.
Then the puppet king fell into a puddle of black paint labeled OIL.
The crowd roared with laughter.
Valessara leaned in. "How charming. Your legend, simplified for peasants."
Aerin's face warmed. "That's… humiliating."
"It's branding," Valessara corrected.
Mira stood among the crowd, calm, watching.
Cassian stood beside her, arms crossed.
Elira was nowhere visible.
Which meant she was close.
The puppet show continued.
The puppet king tried to speak, but another puppet—tall, elegant, wearing a glittering crown—slapped him.
The elegant puppet said (in a very unflattering voice):
"Quiet, asset."
The crowd laughed again, uncertainly this time.
Aerin's stomach dropped.
Valessara smiled sweetly.
Mira's gaze sharpened—still calm, but colder now.
Cassian muttered, "Oh she's bold."
Halbrecht whispered, "She's suicidal."
The puppet king bowed and kissed the elegant puppet's hand.
The crowd went quiet.
Aerin swallowed hard.
Valessara's voice was soft beside him. "This is what stability looks like. They'll accept it."
Aerin's hands clenched.
Before he could speak—
A new puppet appeared.
A puppet assassin.
It popped up behind the elegant puppet holding a tiny knife.
The assassin puppet stabbed the elegant puppet in the back.
The crowd gasped.
Then laughed—because it was clearly an accident.
Except it wasn't.
Aerin stared at the puppet assassin.
The puppet assassin looked… suspiciously like Elira.
Cassian's head snapped up.
Mira's calm expression didn't change, but her eyes narrowed.
Halbrecht whispered, horrified, "Oh no."
The puppet assassin puppet then turned to the crowd, bowed, and held up a sign that read:
SORRY.
Aerin whispered, "That's… her handwriting."
Cassian muttered, "She made a puppet."
Mira said calmly, "She made a message."
Valessara's smile vanished.
"What is this?" she hissed.
Merrowin's eyes widened as she spotted Elira behind the puppet booth, crouched low, eyes shining with pride.
Elira waved.
Merrowin inhaled sharply and whispered, "Oh no."
Valessara stormed toward the puppet booth.
Elira panicked—then did the most Elira thing possible.
She threw a smoke bomb.
In a courtyard full of children.
It puffed up in a harmless gray cloud that smelled like cinnamon.
The children cheered. "MAGIC!"
Elira coughed violently. "I did not plan for the scent."
Cassian ran forward and yanked Elira out by the collar.
"No murder. No smoke. No puppets," he snapped.
Elira looked genuinely hurt. "It was art."
Aerin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Elira, why?"
Elira blinked innocently. "Emotional assassination."
Mira, calm as ever, stepped closer.
"Elira," she said, "was this meant to help us?"
Elira nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. Everyone saw she is stab-able."
"That is not… the point," Aerin groaned.
Valessara's eyes were wild with fury.
"You disgusting creature," she hissed. "You belong in chains."
Elira's smile disappeared.
Cassian shifted, hand on his sword.
Mira's calm voice cut through the tension.
"No," she said.
Valessara turned. "Excuse me?"
Mira looked directly at her, expression composed. "You do not threaten people in this kingdom like that."
Valessara laughed. "And who will stop me? You?"
Mira's voice didn't rise. "The people."
The crowd had gone quiet.
Not laughing anymore.
Watching.
And for the first time, Valessara realized she had pushed too far—publicly.
Halbrecht leaned toward Merrowin and whispered, "We can use this."
Merrowin whispered back, "We will."
Aerin stared at the crowd.
They weren't laughing at him now.
They were staring at Valessara.
Judging.
Measuring.
The tide was shifting.
Because she had revealed herself.
The Private Scene: Aerin Detached, Mira Calm, The Plan Solidifies
That night in the library, Aerin looked exhausted.
Mira sat across from him, calm, hands folded.
Cassian leaned against a shelf.
Halbrecht paced.
Elira sat on the floor, proudly sewing something with a knife—embroidery, apparently—while also listening.
Merrowin entered quietly and shut the door.
"I saw today," she said.
Aerin whispered, "I'm sorry about the children."
Merrowin ignored that. "Valessara exposed herself."
Halbrecht nodded. "Public cruelty. Public threats. Evidence. We can move."
Aerin looked at Mira. "Are you sure?"
Mira's calm gaze held him steady. "Yes."
Elira held up her embroidery.
It was a crude image of Valessara being stabbed by a puppet.
Mira glanced at it. "Elira—no."
Elira frowned and flipped it over.
The other side was honey bread recipe notes.
"Better," Mira said.
Elira nodded proudly.
Cassian cleared his throat. "What's our next move?"
Merrowin answered. "We split the council further."
Halbrecht groaned. "It's already split."
Merrowin smiled slightly. "We make the split visible."
Aerin swallowed. "And if Thryndel threatens war?"
Merrowin's eyes sharpened. "Then we show the world that Thryndel is the aggressor. Oil makes everyone watch. We use that."
Aerin exhaled slowly.
Mira reached across the table—not grabbing his hand, not dramatic—just resting her fingers near his, calm and steady.
"You don't have to win by force," she said softly. "You win by making the truth impossible to ignore."
Aerin nodded.
The Harem Alarm hummed quietly above them, not screaming for once—almost approving.
Elira whispered, "May I stab her symbolically again?"
Everyone said "No" at the same time.
Elira sighed. "Fine."
Then, after a pause, she added:
"I will find a non-violent method of ruin."
Cassian muttered, "That sentence should not be legal."
Mira remained calm. "We'll supervise you."
Elira smiled. "I love supervision."
Aerin groaned. "That doesn't sound real."
"It is," Cassian said. "Welcome to your life."
End Beat
As they left the library, Aerin walked with Mira through the corridor.
Quiet.
Dim lanterns.
No crowds.
No Valessara—yet.
Aerin looked at Mira.
"You're very calm," he said.
Mira nodded. "Someone has to be."
Aerin gave a small, grateful laugh. "How do you do it?"
Mira glanced at him. "Because panic doesn't help."
Aerin sighed. "I'm mostly panic."
Mira's lips curved faintly. "Then I'll be calm enough for both of us."
They continued walking.
And behind a curtain, Elira watched them with a blade in one hand and embroidery in the other.
She whispered to herself, proud and ominous:
"I am normal."
The curtain rustled.
Aerin flinched automatically.
Mira didn't.
That was the difference.
And it might be the reason they survived what was coming.