The night passed heavy with the sorrow of the day before. By morning, the palace felt quieter, as though even the walls were mindful of what had been lost.
Rnzo and Gina departed early. Mirha had prepared herself to see Gina off, but Mayora gently stopped her.
"Let her husband be the one beside her now," she said softly.
Mirha understood. She watched from a distance as the carriage disappeared beyond the gates, then turned away, leaving them their grief and the intimacy of shared healing.
As Mirha stood watching the distance where the carriage had vanished, footsteps approached behind her—quiet, unannounced. She did not notice until a hand slipped around her waist.
She stiffened at first, instinct sharp, but then she breathed in that familiar rosy scent—the Emperor's scent—and her body eased into him without thought.
Arvin leaned closer. "Why do you look so sad?" he asked softly.
Mirha hesitated, then spoke honestly. "I wish I could go with Gina."
"You cannot," he said gently, without cruelty. "But you can come with me today—to the Kilimah estate."
She turned slightly, surprised. "Kilimah?"
"Have you ever been there?" he asked.
Mirha let out a small, nervous laugh, memories rising far too vividly. She remembered going once with Goya—remembered a stream, laughter, and the unfortunate sight of a half-naked Kain and his subordinates cooling themselves in the water.
"Only once," she replied.
Arvin frowned, mildly puzzled by her tone, but whatever thought crossed his mind, he let it go. He loosened his hold and gestured toward the palace.
"Come. Let us have breakfast first."
Side by side, they walked toward the breakfast room, the weight of the morning lifting just a little as Mirha followed him inside.
After breakfast, Mirha returned to her chambers to change. She was pleasantly surprised to find everything already prepared—her garments laid out with care, her jewelry neatly arranged.
Yuma sat nearby, waiting.
Mirha studied her for a moment. Yuma had not noticed her enter; she was lost in thought, staring into the air as if somewhere far away. Up close, Mirha noticed how unusual her beauty was. She looked purely Madish at first glance, yet her hair curled softly instead of falling straight, hinting at Evan blood. Her skin was a warm, sun-kissed gold, her eyes a gentle hazel that seemed to catch the light.
Mirha waved a hand in front of her face.
Yuma startled. "Ah—mama!" she gasped in Madish.
Mirha laughed softly. "What are you?" she asked, still speaking Madish.
Yuma blinked, confused. "I'm… a girl, Your Majesty."
Mirha smiled, amused. "Obviously. I meant—where are you from?"
Realization dawned on Yuma's face. "Oh," she said quickly. "I'm Madish, Your Majesty."
Mirha tilted her head, curiosity softening her features. "Are you half?" she asked gently.
Yuma shook her head quickly. "No, Your Majesty. I'm fully Madish." She hesitated, then added, "I'm Lady Mayora's niece."
Mirha's brows lifted in understanding. Her gaze flicked once more to Yuma's curls. "Then what about your hair?"
Yuma glanced down, sheepish. "That… I don't know either," she admitted with a small laugh. "It must be strange genes."
Mirha chuckled warmly. "Then they suit you perfectly."
After changing, Mirha stepped back out to the courtyard and found Arvin already waiting. He turned the moment he sensed her presence, his gaze lingering for a brief second longer than necessary.
Without a word, he offered his hand. Mirha placed hers in it and entered the carriage beside him. The doors closed softly, and soon the wheels began to move, carrying them away from the palace and toward the Kilimah estate.
When they arrived at Kilimah, the carriage rolled through the grand gates and came to a halt before the estate. Arvin stepped down first, then helped Mirha to the ground. Guards and servants alike bowed deeply as the Emperor and his Precious Concubine passed, murmurs of reverence trailing behind them.
Inside, laughter and the soft slap of cards echoed through the sitting hall. Kain and Goya were seated at a table, mid-game, when Goya looked up.
The moment her eyes landed on Mirha, she let the cards fall from her hand without a second thought.
"Mirha!"
She was already on her feet, crossing the room in a rush before throwing her arms around her. Mirha laughed softly, returning the embrace as if she had been gone for months rather than days.
After the embrace, Goya straightened and offered Arvin a graceful bow, her smile still bright with excitement. Before he could say a word, she caught Mirha by the wrist.
"Come," she said lightly, already pulling her along.
Mirha laughed, glancing back only once as she was dragged from the room, her steps hurried to keep up with Goya's eagerness. The sound of their laughter faded down the corridor, leaving the space suddenly quieter.
Arvin watched them go for a brief moment before turning back.
Only he and his brother remained.
Goya did not stop walking until they reached a quiet veranda overlooking the inner gardens. Only then did she slow, her grip on Mirha's wrist loosening.
"What happened?" she asked softly. "You looked… different."
Mirha drew a breath and told her everything.
She spoke of Gina's laughter at lunch, the sudden dizziness, the blood soaking through silk. She spoke of the physician's room, of cold hands and frantic prayers, of Yuma's trembling voice in Madish. When she reached the word miscarriage, her voice thinned, as though it might break.
"She didn't even know," Mirha whispered. "She kept saying it wasn't possible. That she was never pregnant."
Goya stopped walking.
The color drained from her face as Mirha continued—Ruso's confirmation, Rnzo's disbelief, Gina's quiet sobs when the truth finally settled into her bones.
For a long moment, Goya said nothing. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining.
"That's cruel," she murmured at last. "To lose a child you never even had the chance to love properly."
Mirha nodded. "She blamed herself for not knowing. As if a mother must always feel these things."
Goya turned away, staring into the garden, blinking rapidly. When she looked back, her composure was forced, stitched together by sheer will.
"Gina is strong," she said, though her voice trembled. "But no woman should carry that kind of pain alone."
She reached for Mirha's hands and squeezed them firmly.
"I'm glad she had you there."