Mayora's announcement settled over the garden like a sudden storm.
For a moment after Kanha was carried away, no one moved.
The soft rustle of leaves and distant birdsong felt strangely loud against the stunned silence left behind. Mirha, Gina, and Yuma remained exactly where they were, as if their bodies had forgotten how to respond.
Mayora had acted quickly—too quickly for anyone to question her. She had already called for attendants, ordered them to carefully lift Kanha, and began guiding them toward the palace. Her voice had remained calm, professional.
"The pregnancy is early," she had said quietly while examining her. "She likely experienced a heat flash. She should rest."
And with that, she followed them toward Kanha's chambers.
Now the garden felt emptier.
Gina was the first to break the silence.
She leaned back slowly in her chair, folding her hands together in her lap as if weighing her thoughts.
"Well," she said after a moment, her tone measured, "I wonder if she will like the news… considering how it was conceived."
Mirha didn't answer.
Her teeth pressed into the inside of her lower lip, the small sting grounding her as she stared down at the untouched tea before her.
Yuma, standing just behind Mirha's chair, bit her tongue hard enough to stop herself from speaking. The thoughts racing through her mind were far too sharp to be voiced without sounding cruel.
The silence stretched again.
Then Mirha stood.
"We should go check on her," she said quietly.
Neither Gina nor Yuma argued.
They rose together and left the pavilion, the three of them walking back toward the palace corridors where the atmosphere had already begun to shift—servants whispering, footsteps quicker than usual, word spreading faster than anyone could contain it.
When they reached Kanha's chambers, attendants stood outside the door, speaking in hushed voices.
Mirha stepped forward first and entered.
Inside, the room was dim and quiet.
Kanha lay resting on the bed, pale but awake, propped slightly against embroidered pillows. Mayora stood beside her, finishing her examination with the calm focus of someone accustomed to delicate situations.
The moment the others entered, Kanha's eyes shifted toward them.
For a brief second, something unreadable flickered across her face.
Then it vanished behind composure.
Mirha, Gina, and Yuma entered Kanha's chambers quietly.
The air inside was calm but heavy, the kind of quiet that came after sudden commotion. The curtains had been drawn partially to soften the light, and Kanha sat propped against embroidered pillows, a glass of water in her hands.
Mayora stood beside the bed, still watching her carefully.
For a moment, everything seemed almost normal.
Then the door opened again.
Kaisen stepped inside.
The timing was so perfect it felt almost staged.
He paused just past the threshold, clearly not expecting to find the room filled with people. His eyes swept across them—Mirha, Gina, Yuma—before settling on Kanha.
Kanha had just lifted the cup to her lips.
The moment she saw him, she jolted upright with sudden energy, the water nearly spilling.
"Kaisen!" she said breathlessly.
Everyone turned toward her.
Her eyes were bright, almost glowing with excitement.
"I'm pregnant, my love."
Kaisen froze.
The room went completely still.
Mirha instinctively held her breath. Gina's hand tightened slightly on the back of the chair beside her. Even the attendants seemed to shrink against the walls, as though any movement might draw attention they did not want.
Kaisen blinked once.
"Pardon?" he asked slowly.
Kanha suddenly seemed to remember herself.
Their encounter had not been… planned. And her excitement, displayed so openly, could raise questions she did not want asked.
Her expression softened quickly, her tone shifting.
"I mean…" she said, placing a gentle hand over her stomach, lowering her voice into something more delicate. "I will be a mother. And knowing that I can bring light into this… situation… makes me feel less blue."
Kaisen said nothing for a moment.
His face was unreadable.
Finally, he asked, "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine," Kanha replied smoothly. "Truly."
He nodded once.
Without another word, he turned slightly and bowed politely to Mirha and Gina.
"Ladies."
As he straightened, his gaze moved—briefly, almost unintentionally.
It met Yuma's.
Only for a second.
Then he looked away and walked out of the room.
The door closed behind him.
Yuma turned her head back toward Kanha.
And that was when she saw it.
Kanha was staring at her.
Not politely. Not calmly.
Her eyes were fixed on Yuma with a quiet, burning intensity that felt almost physical.
Yuma met the stare without flinching.
Then she gave a small, indifferent look—as if the entire situation bored her—and turned toward the door.
Without a word, she left the room.
The dismissal only made Kanha's anger burn hotter.
But she forced it down.
Because beneath the irritation, beneath the jealousy and suspicion, something far stronger pulsed inside her.
Triumph.
She placed her hand gently over her stomach again, unable to stop the small smile curling at her lips.
Now she was carrying Kaisen's child.
His heir.
Whatever doubts lingered between them, whatever complications existed—this changed everything.
Now he was bound to her.
Mirha and Gina exchanged a quiet glance before offering polite farewells and leaving her to rest.
And as the door closed behind them, Kanha leaned back into the pillows, her smile widening in the privacy of the room.
Mirha returned to her chambers with slower steps than before. The walk from Kanha's rooms had been quiet, almost thoughtful, and the moment the doors closed behind her she exhaled softly, as if finally allowing the tension of the morning to settle.
Yuma followed, closing the doors gently.
Mirha moved toward the window first, then turned back toward the room, clearly still processing everything she had just witnessed.
She looked at Yuma.
"Was that reaction… normal?" she asked quietly.
Yuma blinked once, then slowly folded her arms.
"Finally," she said, almost with relief. "You can see it."
Mirha frowned slightly.
"I beg you," Yuma continued, her voice lowering, "believe what Princess Goya said. This was planned. Lady Kanha trapped Lord Kaisen."
Mirha shook her head almost immediately.
"She was truly broken that morning," Mirha said softly. "I saw it. I feel like it would be wrong to assume otherwise."
Yuma sighed, walking a few steps closer.
"Your Highness," she said carefully, "you don't know the lengths people are willing to go to get what they want."
Mirha looked down at her hands.
"I don't know, Yuma," she replied after a moment. "That would be unfair… to someone as kind as Lord Kaisen."
Yuma's lips pressed together.
"Exactly," she said.
Before Mirha could ask what she meant, the chamber doors opened.
Both women turned.
Arvin stepped inside.
The room shifted instantly. Yuma straightened at once and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty."
Without waiting for instruction, she slipped quietly out of the room, closing the doors behind her.
Mirha stood and bowed as well.
Arvin remained where he was for a moment, watching her with an expression that was difficult to read—something between concern and restraint.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
Mirha didn't answer with words.
Instead, she walked straight toward him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly before he could even react. She lifted her face and kissed him softly.
"I'm sorry for storming out earlier," she murmured against his lips. "I just… hated the idea of being so naïve."
Arvin's arms slid around her waist instinctively, pulling her closer. He kissed her again, slower this time.
"I'm sorry for being too brutal with the truth," he admitted.
Mirha pulled back slightly and looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"The Emperor apologizing?" she teased softly.
Arvin chuckled, the tension between them easing.
"It appears miracles do happen," he said lightly.
Yuma pushed open the door to her chambers, already loosening the ties of her sleeves as she stepped inside. The day had been too long, too full of tension and whispers.
But the moment she crossed the threshold, she stopped.
Kaisen was standing in her room.
For a heartbeat she simply stared at him, startled. He stood near the window where the light fell across his shoulders, his expression serious, almost impatient—as if he had been waiting far too long.
Yuma closed the door slowly behind her.
She expected herself to feel anger first. Or perhaps the urge to throw him out.
But instead, she only sighed softly and leaned her back against the door.
"You really have no sense of boundaries," she said.
Kaisen didn't answer.
He crossed the room in two long steps and pulled her toward him.
Before she could protest, his lips were on hers.
The kiss was sudden and firm, all the frustration he had clearly been holding back poured into it. For a moment Yuma stiffened in surprise, her hands hovering uncertainly between pushing him away and holding onto him.
Then she stopped resisting.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his robe as she kissed him back.
The tension between them—Days, perhaps longer—seemed to snap all at once. The argument they never finished, the truths neither of them had spoken, the anger and the pull they both kept denying… it was all there in the silence between their breaths.
When they finally paused, they were still standing close enough to feel each other's heartbeat.
Yuma looked up at him, her voice quieter now.
"It's not your fault," she murmured.
Kaisen pressed her harder to the wall and deepen the kiss like he needed her breathe.
For a moment after the kiss ended, he remained close, his forehead almost touching Yuma's as both of them caught their breath. The room felt smaller somehow, quieter than it had before.
Yuma searched his face, trying to read the storm that always seemed to live behind his eyes.
Then he spoke, his voice low.
"You make me less blue."
The words were simple, almost careless—but the way he said them made them feel heavier than they should have.
Yuma blinked, clearly caught off guard. She tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"Is that a confession?" she asked softly.
Kaisen's expression shifted.
For the briefest moment something vulnerable flickered across his face—something honest that he seemed to regret revealing.
He stepped back.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
Before Yuma could respond, he turned and walked to the door. His hand paused on the handle for half a second, as if he might say something more.
But he didn't.
He opened the door and left.
The chamber fell silent again.
Yuma remained standing exactly where he had left her, staring at the door long after it closed, the echo of his words lingering in the stillness of the room.