The dressing chamber glowed with soft morning light, filtered through gauzy curtains. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine oil and warmed silk, the quiet bustle of maids stitching, fastening, and smoothing around their mistresses.
Mirha stood before the tall mirror, the deep red velvet gown draped perfectly over her frame. White lace kissed the edges of her sleeves, and the silver stitching at her waist seemed to catch the light with every breath she took the silver set of jewellery on the table as the finishing touches Mirha was just too excited. She smiled, wide and unguarded, turning her head slightly to see the way the gown framed her figure.
Her personal maid, Suni, clasped her hands together with delight. "My lady, you look beautiful, like a jewel the court has never seen."
Mirha laughed, the sound light as the tinkle of bells. "Oh, don't flatter me so, Suni." But her smile only deepened, and soon they were both giggling like young children, their joy echoing softly through the chamber.
Across the room, Kanha smoothed the pale red silk gown over her hips and studied her own reflection she grazed her pearls that made the outfit more elegant. The golden embroidery shimmered like threads of fire, the bell-shaped sleeves fluttering as she moved. She smiled, contentment softening her usually sharp features.
And yet… a pit hollowed quietly inside her. If it were up to her, she would have worn the emerald gown Mrs Tiavan had chosen for Gina. Regal, commanding, exquisite—it would have suited her perfectly. But Gina had been given that honor, just as Gina would soon become Duchess. Kanha let the envy run its course, then swallowed it back with another practiced smile. Beautiful or not, she would not let bitterness show.
At the far side of the room, Gina stood almost still, the emerald gown unfurled across her body like a forest caught in dawn. Tiny pearls traced her sleeves, delicate and deliberate. A heavy necklace of gold and green stones rested against her collarbones, and matching earrings swayed as her maids adjusted her veil.
She lowered her gaze, feeling the weight of it all. The gown was grander than anything she had ever worn, exaggerated in its splendor, almost ostentatious in the way only her mother could arrange. She felt shy, as though the gown itself exposed her.
Then, glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mirha laughing with Suni and Kanha smiling to herself in the mirror. A warmth spread through her chest. Perhaps her mother had been dramatic, yes, but she had been generous too. She had given them all something that made them feel radiant. For that, Gina was grateful.
Her fingers brushed the pearl-embroidered sleeve, and her thoughts drifted unbidden to Duke Rnzo. Would he think it was too much? Would he find her ridiculous in her mother's spectacle of emerald silk? Or would he… like it?
The thought alone sent a flush to her cheeks. She bit her lip and looked away from the mirror quickly, but she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. As her mind fled back to their night at the Inn.
Everyone's thoughts scattered at the sound of a sharp knock against the chamber doors. The laughter, the hush of silk, even the quiet sighs of envy and longing all stilled in that instant.
One of Princess Goya's maids stepped in, bowing quickly. "My ladies," she said, her voice careful, "Her Highness requests Lady Mirha's presence in her chambers."
Mirha blinked, surprised. "Now?"
"Yes, my lady. She asks for you to come alone if you may please."
That made the room shift—subtle glances passing between Gina and Kanha. Alone? It was unusual, more than a little suspicious, though not alarming. Everyone had noticed the closeness between Mirha and the Princess in recent days, so perhaps it was not so strange.
"Maybe she wishes to keep her gown a secret," Kanha murmured, smoothing the embroidered silk over her knees.
Gina nodded, her lips curving. "That sounds like her. She would want to make an entrance no one forgets."
Mirha looked between them, sensing the unspoken questions in their eyes, but chose not to dwell on them. She adjusted the folds of her velvet gown, lifted her chin, and gave Suni a small smile. "I'll be fine. Don't let them wrinkle my skirts before I return."
Her attempt at humor earned a soft laugh from Gina, though the air still felt taut.
With a final glance at her friends at Kanha radiant in red silk, and Gina shimmering in emerald Mirha followed the maid out, the heavy doors closing behind her with a muted thud.
For a moment, the chamber was quiet again, the kind of quiet that left space for unspoken wonder.
Mirha followed the maid down the long corridor, her velvet skirts brushing against the polished floors. The palace was unusually hushed for such a grand morning; even the air felt tight, as though it were holding its breath.
They turned a corner into one of the side halls when, suddenly ,a strong arm pulled her into the shadows of a narrow chamber. A hand clamped gently but firmly over her mouth.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She muffled a startled cry, her body tensing as she struggled to understand what was happening.
But then, through the dim light of the chamber, she saw him.
Duke Rnzo.
He stood with the commanding stillness only he possessed, his dark gaze steady on her. At once, her fear melted into shock and curiosity. She breathed against the hand covering her mouth, but when his man slowly let go, she did not scream. She didn't need to. If Rnzo was here, she was safe.
The duke gave her a slight nod, silent but reassuring, before stepping aside to reveal another figure waiting in the room.
Ruso the royal physician.
His hands were clasped tightly before him, his eyes sharp but filled with unease. The lines on his face seemed deeper than ever, as though the weight of some terrible secret pressed upon him.
Mirha's voice came out low, cautious. " Your Grace, is anything the matter?"
Rnzo's man gestured for her to remain quiet. Rnzo himself did not speak yet, his gaze heavy with meaning, as though words would carry too much risk outside these walls. Instead, he inclined his head toward Ruso.
The physician stepped forward, his tone urgent but measured. "Lady Mirha....How fast and efficient are you herbal skills."
Whatever passed between her, Duke Rnzo, and the royal physician was left unspoken when Mirha was quietly dismissed. The duke's man guided her back toward the main hall, making certain she rejoined the path as though nothing had happened. By the time she reached the corridor that led to Princess Goya's chambers, her heartbeat had steadied, her face composed.
The doors opened, and there she was Princess Goya.
The room was drenched in golden light, silken drapes swaying faintly as if even the wind bowed to her presence. Goya stood in the center, her maids fussing with layers of fabric, arranging jewels that caught the light like tiny stars.
Her gown was breathtaking. A cascade of ivory silk embroidered with threads of silver, each fold glittering with an almost ethereal glow. The bodice hugged her slender form, delicate crystal beading tracing her collarbone, and the long train pooled around her like a river of moonlight.
Mirha froze at the threshold, breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she forgot the secret chamber, the physician's grave expression—forgot everything except the vision before her.
"Mirha," Goya said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of trust. She turned, her dark hair pinned in a jeweled crown, eyes shimmering with both excitement and nerves. "You came."
Mirha found her smile again, stepping inside with a small curtsy. "How could I not? You look… like a dream."
The princess's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. "Stay with me a while. I would rather share this moment with you than anyone else."
And just like that, the weight of secrets slipped into the background. For now, Mirha was exactly where she was meant to be.
The soft glow of the morning light wrapped around the princess like a halo. Mirha stood still, the faintest smile touching her lips as she admired the breathtaking vision before her.
Princess Goya turned, her long silk gown shimmering like moonlight over still water. Every thread of embroidery seemed to hum with care — silver vines twining around faint blue petals, an ode to grace and restraint.
For all her regal poise, Goya's expression was quietly uncertain. Her eyes drifted down to the folds of her gown, and then to Mirha, searching her face as if for an answer only she could give.
"What do you think?" she asked softly. "Is it… too much? Too simple?"
Mirha blinked, surprised by the hesitation in the princess's tone. "Too much?" she echoed, smiling faintly. "Your Highness, you look radiant. This gown was made for you. No one could wear it better."
Goya's lips curved into a small, unsure smile, but her gaze lingered on her reflection. "All I needed was to hear that. It's foolish, isn't it? I shouldn't be this nervous — not for my brother's coronation, and certainly not for General Kain."
Mirha's smile softened. "It isn't foolish to want to be seen — especially by the one who holds your heart."
For a moment, the princess looked almost fragile — the woman beneath the crown. "Kalan says the coronation will mark a new era," she murmured. "But for me… it feels like the end of something. After today, everything changes."
Mirha stepped closer, her voice gentle. "Change doesn't always take things from us, Your Highness. Sometimes, it simply shows us what was meant to stay."
The princess met her eyes, and the tension in her shoulders eased, just slightly. "You always know what to say, Mirha."
Mirha lowered her head humbly, though part of her still felt the echo of Rnzo's grave eyes in that shadowed chamber. Whatever he had meant to tell her, it still weighed at the back of her mind — a whisper behind the beauty of the morning.
But for now, she smiled again, letting herself be present — for Goya, for this moment, for the fragile peace before the coronation truly began.
Mirha stayed with the princess a little longer, helping fasten the final clasp on her sleeve and adjusting the veil that flowed like water from her jeweled crown. When Goya finally smiled — truly smiled — Mirha knew it was time to go.
She gave a respectful bow. "Your Highness, you'll outshine every light in the hall today."
Goya's laughter was soft but warm. "Go on then, before the others start fretting. I'll join you all shortly."
With that, Mirha excused herself, stepping back into the long corridor. The palace was alive now — music swelling faintly from the courtyards, the air humming with whispers of guests arriving from distant lands. The scent of sandalwood and rose petals followed her every step.
When she entered the ladies' dressing chamber, she found them ready.
Kanha stood near the mirror, straightening her delicate earrings, her smile confident though her eyes flickered toward Gina more than once. Kiara had just arrived with her husband Tando, her gown perfectly fitted in rich sapphire silk. Gina was radiant — her gown shimmering under the sunlight, her nervous excitement making her cheeks glow.
"There you are!" Gina breathed with relief. "We were beginning to think Princess Goya kept you hostage."
Mirha laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, she only needed a moment."
"Then let's not keep His Highness waiting," Kiara said, taking Tando's arm with a sparkle in her eyes.
The ladies gathered, the soft rustle of gowns filling the chamber as they began their walk toward the grand hall. Through the tall arched windows, the palace courtyard was already glittering with nobles and banners — the insignia of Lamig fluttering alongside Èvana's golden crest.
Today would mark the crowning of Prince Kalan of Lamig,
And as they made their way through the corridors, Mirha's gaze lingered ahead — the light spilling over the marble floors, the distant hum of trumpets, and somewhere deep inside her, that faint echo of unease from her encounter with Duke Rnzo and the royal physician.