The palace felt colder than usual.
Though the torches lining the walls of Taico flickered warmly and the scent of rose oil still clung faintly to the halls, Kanha felt none of it. Her steps were slow, deliberate—like someone walking barefoot on glass.
Her chambers waited for her at the far end of the corridor, quiet and untouched. A maid curtsied low upon seeing her approach, but Kanha didn't respond. She walked past the girl, unblinking, her face unreadable, her back upright like porcelain that hadn't cracked—yet.
Once inside, she shut the door with a soft click.
The air was still. The room was dim, the only light coming from a pair of lanterns lit in anticipation of her return. Everything was as she had left it: the velvet canopy draped over her bed, the soft green curtains fluttering slightly with the night breeze, her brushes aligned on the vanity, untouched and gleaming.
She stood there, just inside the door.
Still. Silent.
And then, as if something inside her finally gave permission—her knees buckled.
She caught herself against the edge of a chaise and sank down slowly, pressing her hand to her chest. Her breath came sharp and shallow now, as though her lungs had forgotten how to hold air.
That voice.
"You were worried about how easily the Duke's eyes found her across the room."
The words replayed over and over again, not with the malice she might've expected—but with the calm of a woman who didn't need venom to be dangerous.
Kanha leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, both hands gripping each other tightly until her knuckles blanched.
She wasn't crying.
It would've been easier if she was.
Tears could've felt like a release. But no—they didn't come. Instead, she just sat there, frozen in the wreckage of her pride.
She had played the game.
She had smiled and bowed and written her letters, worded just delicately enough to sound noble. She had stitched herself into courtly events, made herself essential to the social fabric of Bukid and beyond. And for a while, it worked.
Until Misha Tiavan—with her silken voice and bottomless eyes—had unraveled it all in the space of five minutes.
Kanha felt something shift in her stomach. A twisting sense of exposure. Of being seen too clearly by someone who'd never once raised her voice.
She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.
How could Gina live under a woman like that?
It wasn't fear she had felt standing there—it was helplessness. Like standing before a calm ocean, realizing it went much deeper than you'd imagined, and if you stepped in too far, it would swallow you whole.
Suddenly the vanity mirror caught her eye.
Kanha turned slowly, meeting her own reflection.
She looked exactly the same. Her hair perfect. Her makeup intact. Her posture composed.
But something in her eyes had gone quiet.
She walked toward the mirror, slow and hollow. She sat down on the padded stool and stared—hard.
"I'm not weak," she whispered.
The woman staring back at her didn't seem so sure.
"I'm not." Her voice trembled. "I just… miscalculated."
She didn't know whether she was trying to convince the mirror—or herself.
Her hands, still trembling, reached for a gold hairpin. She pulled it free. Then another. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She stared at her reflection again, this time letting her face soften, letting the armor fall just a little.
In the quiet of the room, surrounded by silk and perfume, Kanha looked more like a girl than a lady.
And for a brief moment—she hated that.
How did she get the power to speak to me like that… and why couldn't I say a word back?
Her throat tightened.
Maybe it wasn't just about Kaisen. Maybe it never had been. Maybe it was that feeling of always being almost enough. Almost admired. Almost chosen. Almost wanted.
Almost—but never quite.
A soft knock came at the door.
Kanha sat up instantly, the pieces of her poise clicking back into place like well-oiled machinery. "Yes?" she called out.
It was a maid. "Lady Kanha… dinner has been served in the west hall. Would you like me to prepare you?"
Kanha blinked at her reflection once more. The mask slipped effortlessly back on.
"No," she said. "I'll dine here tonight."
"Yes, my lady." The footsteps retreated.
Silence returned.
She sat there for a long time, unmoving.
She couldn't go back to Bukid—not like this. And she couldn't afford another failure. Not in Lamig. Not with Lord Kaisen watching. She had to think. To plan better. To make sure no one—not even Misha—would have anything left to say by the time she was done.
Kanha exhaled slowly, smoothing her dress.
She would rest tonight.
But the game wasn't over.
The knock on the door was light. Hesitant.
Kanha had just unpinned the last of her earrings when she heard it.
She didn't move at first, thinking perhaps she imagined it—her nerves had been playing cruel games with her all night. But then it came again, firmer this time.
She frowned and stood up slowly, her silk robe whispering as it moved with her steps. Her hair was still styled from the day's travel, though wilted now from fatigue and the lingering dust of Malaka.
She opened the door.
And there stood Kiara.
Elegant as ever. Eyes bright. Cheeks flushed with the cool night air. The jewelry around her neck and wrists shimmered even in the low light—a delicate set of gold and sapphire that Kanha recognized instantly as Taico royal craftsmanship.
"Tando?" Kanha asked, before she could stop herself.
Kiara smiled softly, her hand brushing a loose curl behind her ear. "Yes. A surprise gift. He sent it this morning when I arrived. I haven't had the heart to take it off."
Of course he did, Kanha thought bitterly.
She stepped aside and motioned for Kiara to enter, though every bone in her body screamed for solitude. "Come in. It's late, and I suppose you'd already had your fill of smiling faces today."
Kiara chuckled lightly. "I didn't want to sleep without seeing you. It's been four moons, Kanha."
Four moons. Four months since Kiara's wedding to Tando. Four months since Kanha had been left behind.
Kanha watched Kiara's every move as she walked into the room, graceful as ever, her posture relaxed, her perfume warm and floral—the scent of a woman loved completely. She seated herself near the window without invitation, like someone who belonged.
Kanha returned to her vanity and sat down, pretending to adjust her earrings though her eyes subtly traced every shimmer of gold on Kiara's wrist.
It was impossible not to notice.
Tando had always been a romantic, but this? This was obsessive. Worshipful. Not even Enzo—who loved Gina fiercely—had given her gifts like that so early on. Not like Tando.
There was something sacred about it. Something raw and enviable.
Kanha's voice came out cooler than she intended. "Marriage seems to be treating you well."
Kiara looked up at her, eyes calm, searching. "It is. I… I'm happy."
Of course you are.
Kanha tilted her head, trying to play the part of a doting friend. "You're glowing."
"Thank you."
But that glowing—Kanha wasn't sure if it was love or just the reflection of all that glittering gold around Kiara's neck. Her fingers itched to touch it.
She imagined what it would've been like if Enzo had chosen her, if Kaisen looked at her the way he smiled softly when speaking to Mirha, or even—
Tando, she thought, her envy spiking unexpectedly. Even that quiet, devoted Duke had never once looked her way.
And then Kiara noticed it.
The subtle shift in Kanha's eyes.
That single flicker of something unspoken—resentment? longing? defeat?
Kiara straightened slightly, her smile dimming, but she said nothing. She always noticed. Kanha hated that about her. Hated that Kiara's sweetness was never blind.
There was a pause.
Then Kiara stood up.
"Well," she said gently, brushing her gown down. "It's late. I only meant to stop by for a moment."
Kanha rose with her, trying to recover her poise. "It's too late for tea anyway."
Kiara offered a smile—warm, yet distant. "I hope you rest well tonight. We're all leaving for Lamig soon."
There it was again.
That quiet reminder.
They were all leaving. Without her.
Kanha's smile faltered but held. "Safe travels."
Kiara hesitated at the door, as if she wanted to say something else—but thought better of it. Then she left.
And once again, the silence returned.
Kanha stood in the middle of her room, staring at the door that had just closed.
It wasn't just jealousy, she told herself. It was injustice. She deserved this. All of it. Someone to love her like that. A crown. A kingdom. Attention.
But no.
Tando was gone. With Kiara.
Enzo… had never chased her. Not once. Even when she was standing right next to him, he would ask Mirha where Gina was. And that was clear proof she is not even a second opinion.
And Kaisen—oh, Kaisen. Everyone whispered that he'd marry Mirha. The perfect, quiet, graceful Mirha.
If he did…
Kanha felt her knees weaken. She sat down slowly at the edge of her bed.
If Kaisen married Mirha… then what was left for her?
No Duke. No Prince. No Crown. No path forward. Only Bukid, full of leftover suitors and empty echoes.
She let her hands fall to her lap. Her eyes burned, but still, she didn't cry.
Only one voice echoed in her head—Misha's.
"Go back to Bukid. You left a lot of suitors there."
Kanha closed her eyes tightly.
The words hadn't sounded cruel at the time. But now, in the quiet of the night, they sliced sharper than any blade.
And the worst part?
They might be true.
In The Emperor's Study
The scent of old parchment and rosewood lingered in the air as the sun filtered through the wide windows, casting a warm golden hue over the scrolls and ink pots strewn across the desk.
Arvin sat quietly, his brow furrowed as he read through the letter in his hand for the third time. His thumb tapped against the parchment, betraying his unease.
Heman, seated across from him, watched silently, waiting.
The wax seal bore the royal emblem of Malaka—the Empress's personal mark. The letter was short, but the request it carried was weighty.
> "I request Lady Kanha attend the coronation at Lamig in my stead. It will be good for her. She will be among family, and I believe the presence of familiar faces will aid in her healing and confidence."
Arvin exhaled through his nose, his hand coming up to rub at his temple.
"She wants Kanha to represent her?" he muttered, almost to himself.
"Yes," Heman said softly. "And she signed it with her full title. This is not a mere suggestion."
Arvin leaned back in his chair. "It's not that I question the Empress's judgment… it's just—Kanha hasn't exactly earned the trust to stand in her place. Not after what's happened."
Heman hesitated before speaking. "I saw her this morning."
Arvin's gaze shifted.
"She was in the gardens," Heman said, quieter now. "Sitting alone near the hyacinths. Just staring at the pond like it held all the answers. I think she was crying."
The room fell silent.
Arvin's hand stilled.
"She's proud," Heman continued. "But even pride bends under loneliness. Maybe Lamig could give her… something to look forward to. Suitors. Possibilities. A future."
Arvin sighed. "And what if she embarrasses the Empress?"
Heman shook his head. "I don't think she will. Not if she thinks this is her last chance."
Before Arvin could respond, the door burst open, startling both men.
"You two look like you're plotting a war instead of planning a trip," came the familiar voice of Queen Mother Raina, her laughter trailing behind her.
She stepped in with the grace of someone who owned the space, her arms wide open.
"I came to surprise my little pumpkins!"
Arvin stood, startled but smiling. "Mother! You weren't expected till this evening!"
"That's the point of a surprise, Arvin," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek before turning to Heman. "Look at you! Thinner than the last time I saw you. Are you eating or just arguing with scrolls?"
Heman laughed, rising to kiss her hand. "A bit of both."
Raina turned toward the window, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Now where is—ah!"
Kaisen entered then, tall and broader than before, his stride smooth and assured.
The room shifted.
He wore a dark travel robe, the collar open just enough to show a thicker neck and stronger build. His jaw was square now, shadowed by a full but well-kept beard, and his hair was longer, pulled back into a simple ponytail that made him look older—manlier.
Raina beamed. "Look at my boy! Kamaya has turned you into a warrior."
Kaisen chuckled, stepping forward to embrace her. "Or just gave me too many hills to climb."
Even Arvin blinked at the change in him, though he quickly masked it with a nod.
Raina glanced between them all, settling herself near the fire. "Well, what's this serious air about? Did someone die or are you all just pretending to be statesmen again?"
Arvin handed her the letter. "The Empress of Malaka requested Kanha attend Lamig in her place."
Raina's eyes flicked over it quickly, then she nodded. "Then it's settled. Kanha will go."
"You approve?" Arvin asked.
"I do. Why not she is Nailah's cousin after all. ," Raina said
Heman smirked. "Exactly what I said."
At that, a servant entered with two more letters—sealed and urgent.
Heman opened one, scanning it.
"It's from the palace at Lamig," he announced. "A formal invitation to the coronation of Prince Kalan—directed to the royal family of Èvana."
Arvin opened the second letter and whistled. "We're the last to arrive. Everyone else is already gathered."
Raina clapped her hands together. "Then let's not delay. Have the carriages prepared."
Kaisen looked over at Arvin. "Are we taking the full procession?"
Arvin nodded. "Yes. It's time Lamig sees the strength of Èvana's legacy."
Raina smiled proudly, resting a hand on Kaisen's arm.
"They'll see more than that. They'll see the Five, Six finest sons of this nation. As she turned to Heman.
"I'm married, your Majesty" Heman stated
And everyone bursts into laughter.
Meanwhile.
The early sun glimmered over dew-dusted petals, but Kanha barely noticed the colors. She stood by the koi pond, her arms folded over her silk shawl, staring blankly at the water. Her eyes were dry now, but puffy—her face painted into a quiet, blank expression she'd practiced far too well.
A light voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Lady Kanha," said a servant girl, bowing politely, "the ladies-in-waiting request you to join them for breakfast in the East Courtyard."
Kanha blinked, startled from her haze. "Now?"
"Yes, my lady."
She gave a slow nod, smoothing down her sleeves and lifting her chin. Don't show them anything. Not now. Not ever.
The chatter at the table floated in the breeze—light laughter, the clinking of porcelain, the rustle of silks. The long table, set beneath flowering vines, glowed in the morning light. Every lady of rank was already seated.
Kanha approached slowly. Then she saw it—only one empty seat remained.
Her breath hitched.
Misha Tiavan. Gina's mother.
Elegant. Regal. A woman carved of ice and sharpened experience.
The older woman glanced up just as Kanha neared, her gaze unreadable—but piercing.
Kanha hesitated only a second before stepping forward, keeping her posture graceful, every step a performance.
She slid into the seat beside Misha, offering the most polite nod she could manage.
"Mistress Tiavan."
"Lady Kanha," Misha replied coolly, eyes drifting back to her teacup. "A pleasant morning, isn't it?"
Kanha smiled stiffly, lowering her gaze to the table as the conversation resumed around them.
But the silence between them held more weight than the words of the others.
---
A messenger approached from the archway, bowing low.
"Forgive the interruption," he said. "Lady Kanha? His Grace, Lord Arvin, and the Queen Mother request your immediate preparation. You will be joining the royal party in attending Prince Kalan's coronation in Lamig."
The entire table went quiet.
Kanha's eyes widened—but only briefly. She offered a slow nod, trying to contain the blooming smile that threatened to reveal too much.
"Understood," she replied smoothly, though her heart was racing.
The moment the messenger left, soft murmurs buzzed through the table. Surprise. Speculation. Thinly veiled disbelief.
Then Misha turned her head ever so slightly toward her.
Her voice was low. Sweet.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, dear."
Kanha froze.
Misha's lips curled just faintly, the way one might when speaking to a child who failed to learn a lesson.
"Those leftovers you keep running from" she murmured, just for Kanha's ears. "They're your fate now."
She sipped her tea without looking back at her.
Kanha sat perfectly still.
The taste of victory had turned bitter in her mouth. And yet, she would not allow her mask to crack. Not now.
Not ever.