When Lord Vharin entered the study, his presence was calm, almost serene. His face, resting in its natural expression, carried a softness that contrasted with the commanding aura of the palace around him. Heman couldn't help but glance at him, noting the quiet authority that didn't need to be announced. Even without words, there was a subtle strength in the way Vharin carried himself.
He bowed respectfully to Arvin, the motion precise and measured, then allowed himself to settle into the seat offered. His movements were smooth, deliberate, like a man accustomed to diplomacy and careful observation.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice even and composed, "it has been a long time."
Arvin returned a warm smile, his own posture relaxed but alert. "Indeed, Lord Vharin."
The room was silent for a brief moment as the weight of history hung between them. Vharin, elder brother of King Jun of Bukid and father to Kanha, represented not just Bukid's royalty but the subtle complexities of political alliances. The very fact that he was here signaled both respect and attention to the delicate matters surrounding the Empress Nailah.
"I have come to attend the yearly banquet," Vharin continued, his tone courteous yet firm. "Jun and Hera wish to be present for Empress Nailah's delivery, so I shall attend on behalf of Bukid."
Arvin inclined his head slightly, his expression calm but thoughtful. "It is alright," he said. "I have no objections. Stay as long as you wish. Èvana is generous to its allies; a man of your stature is always welcome here."
Vharin allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to curve his lips, the kind that suggested both gratitude and understanding. "Very well," he said. "I appreciate your Majesty's kindness."
He rose with the same graceful composure and exited the room, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound marking his departure.
Arvin exhaled softly, almost in relief, and spoke with a hint of admiration. "He is… remarkably soft-spoken."
Kain, leaning back slightly, nodded in agreement, his sharp eyes tracking Vharin's exit. "Indeed. There's a quiet strength in him."
Heman, however, remained still, staring after the departing figure. His expression unreadable, he seemed to study Vharin's every movement, perhaps noting subtleties most would miss. Even as the door closed, the impression of Lord Vharin lingered in the room—soft-spoken yet undeniably commanding.
The three men exchanged a brief glance before returning to their matters, but the aura of Vharin's presence remained, a reminder that appearances can be gentle while intentions are calculated.
As the heavy doors closed behind him, Vharin's sharp gaze immediately found his daughter waiting just outside. Kanha stood poised, a polite smile lighting her face, yet her eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement. Without hesitation, she reached out, and Vharin took her hand gently, feeling the warmth of her small, confident grip.
"So, how does it feel to be back in Taico?" Vharin asked, his voice low but carrying a mix of authority and fondness.
Kanha's smile widened, and she walked alongside him, her steps quick and graceful. "It's… amazing, Father. It's been so long, and everything looks so grand. I almost can't believe I'm here again."
Vharin scanned the palace grounds as they walked, taking in the familiar architecture and the meticulous upkeep of the gardens. It had been many years since his last visit, and he silently noted the improvements, the care taken to maintain both the beauty and order of the imperial seat. Everything reflected the Emperor's precision and the elegance of the court, yet Vharin's mind remained alert—every detail counted when politics and family intertwine.
"Where are the other girls?" he asked, curiosity threading through his tone, though his posture remained stern.
Kanha shifted slightly, rolling her eyes in that subtle, exasperated way only a child of royalty could. "Gina is in Magili at the northern palace, and Kiara… I believe she is in Kamaya. She probably won't be coming here."
Vharin paused mid-step, turning his gaze sharply on his daughter. "And Her Majesty?" he asked, his voice tight, his tone carrying the weight of his authority and expectation.
Kanha's eyes flicked upward, her tone tinged with casual irreverence. "You mean the Emperor's mistress?"
Vharin's expression hardened instantly. The corners of his mouth pressed into a firm line, and a flash of irritation crossed his otherwise calm features. "Be careful when you speak of the Precious Concubine," he warned, his voice steady but edged with warning. The sternness in his tone left no room for argument.
Kanha, seemingly unbothered, shrugged lightly. "I don't know where she is, Father."
Displeased, Vharin released her hand, the gesture abrupt but controlled. He stepped away, his cloak flowing behind him as he made his way toward his chambers. His mind was already reviewing the political implications and the social dynamics—he disliked uncertainty, and the Precious Concubine's mysterious whereabouts left too many questions unanswered.
Kanha watched him go, her smile fading slightly under the weight of her father's displeasure. Though she carried herself with poise, even she could feel the tension left in the wake of his authority—a reminder that in Taico, words and attitudes, no matter how playful, were never without consequence.
Kanha stepped lightly through the grand corridors of the palace, her maids trailing a respectful distance behind her. Every so often, she cast a smile toward the servants along the way; most bowed deeply in return, acknowledging her presence with the kind of deference expected of a princess returned from absence. The familiar sights of Taico brought a strange mix of nostalgia and irritation.
Finally, she arrived at the afternoon table, the one she had often used in these quiet moments, the sunlight streaming through the windows just so. Kanha sank into her seat, smoothing the folds of her gown, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine how delightful it could be to relax here without the constant shadow of the Precious Concubine looming over her thoughts. But the fantasy was quickly interrupted by the nagging sense of oppression she always felt—how could someone like Mirha, a nobody, hold such sway over the Emperor and the palace?
She gripped the edge of her gown tighter, trying to ground herself, when her eyes landed on Suni across the hall. "Suni!" Kanha called.
Suni approached with the slow, deliberate steps of someone who bore no love for the princess. She bowed, her expression carefully neutral, almost indifferent. It was impossible to tell if the indifference was real or a controlled display of superiority.
"Where is she?" Kanha asked, trying to keep her voice even.
Suni's lips curved ever so slightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk, as she replied, "The most precious concubine, Her Majesty Mirha, is in Magili."
Kanha caught the deliberate emphasis Suni placed on "precious concubine," the hint of exaggeration in her tone meant to drive home Mirha's elevated status. She sensed the underlying intent—the reminder of Mirha's superiority—but knew better than to argue. In the rigid hierarchy of the palace, Mirha was untouchable, and Kanha could do nothing but listen, her hands tightening slightly in her lap.
Suni straightened, her gaze unwavering, as if to silently assert, Remember your place. Kanha could feel the invisible weight pressing down, the tension of power and rank between them, and she forced herself to nod, swallowing the bitterness that rose unbidden in her chest.
As soon as Suni left, Kanha's thoughts ran wild, a silent storm of curses and complaints swirling in her mind. That insufferable girl… always flaunting Mirha's importance… why must she make me feel so small? Her fingers clenched the edge of her gown as she tried to calm herself, but the irritation didn't subside.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a carriage approaching. Its polished wood and the crest emblazoned on its side immediately caught her attention—the insignia of the Magili Marquess. Her heart skipped a beat. Kaisen… it must be him, she thought, and she quickened her pace, nearly running toward the carriage.
But when she reached it, her hope faltered. The carriage was empty, the windows dark and quiet, save for the coach who had already jumped down and bowed deeply.
"Where is Lord Kaisen?" Kanha asked, her voice tense, betraying the sudden anxiety clawing at her chest.
The coach's eyes were steady and polite as he replied, "He is in Magili, my lady."
Kanha's stomach dropped. A cold weight settled into her chest. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Magili… with Mirha… and he was already there. The sudden sense of helplessness mingled with her rising frustration. She had been too late—again.