The palace woke slowly.
Too slowly.
That was the first sign something had gone very, very wrong the night before.
Servants lay asleep on benches, under tables, and in one unfortunate case, inside a decorative urn. A nobleman snored gently beneath a tapestry depicting the founding of Aqura, his head pillowed on a ceremonial shield. Somewhere down the east corridor, someone was still crying about cake.
Aerin stood on a balcony wrapped in a robe, staring at the sunrise like a man who had aged ten years overnight.
"I survived," he muttered.
Behind him, Mira sat calmly at a small table, pouring tea with the steady hands of someone who had already accepted that chaos was now a permanent resident.
"You survived," she agreed. "That's progress."
Aerin glanced back at her. "Is this what kingship is?"
"Yes," Mira said serenely. "You just reached the honest part."
Below them, in the palace gardens, something deeply unnatural was happening.
Elira was watering flowers.
She hummed as she did it.
Aerin blinked.
"…Is she singing?"
Mira leaned slightly to look. "Yes."
Elira wore bright colours — soft yellows and greens instead of her usual blacks and greys. Her hair was loosely tied back. She held the watering can delicately, as though afraid she might frighten the flowers.
"I am married," Elira sang softly, off-key.
"I am married, I am married—"
A gardener stared at her in open terror.
Elira noticed him and smiled brightly.
"I nurture life now."
The gardener nodded very fast.
"Yes. Good. Wonderful. Please don't—"
Elira knelt and adjusted a flower gently.
"You are safe," she told it.
The flower did not respond.
Aerin's shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Maybe… maybe it worked."
Mira smiled faintly. "Marriage has given her something to protect."
Below them, a squirrel popped out of the hedge.
It sniffed.
It dug.
It pulled one of Elira's freshly planted flowers straight out of the ground.
Elira froze.
Her smile did not fade.
It trembled.
"Please stop," she said softly.
The squirrel continued digging.
Elira set the watering can down very carefully.
Mira inhaled slowly.
"Elira," Mira called calmly from the balcony. "Breathe."
Elira did not breathe.
Instead, she produced a knife from somewhere that absolutely did not have a pocket.
Guards screamed.
"ELIRA NO—" Aerin shouted.
Elira took off after the squirrel.
"I AM TRYING TO BE BETTER," she yelled as she sprinted through the garden, dress flaring, knife raised.
The squirrel fled with the instincts of something that had chosen the wrong day to exist.
Servants scattered.
A noble fainted into a rosebush.
Elira vaulted a bench.
The squirrel leapt a fountain.
Elira skidded to a stop, chest heaving.
She stood there, knife still raised, eyes wild—
Then Mira was suddenly beside her.
Mira placed a hand gently on Elira's wrist.
"Elira," she said evenly. "You promised."
Elira's breath came fast.
"I did," she said through clenched teeth. "I promised peace."
"Yes."
"And joy."
"Yes."
"And not murdering wildlife."
Elira squeezed her eyes shut.
Counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
She lowered the knife.
Put it away.
Turned back to the flower bed, smiling too widely.
"Nature is chaotic," she said brightly. "I accept this."
The guards applauded.
Quietly.
Like people who had just watched a bomb choose not to explode.
Aerin sank into a chair.
"I need a vacation."
Mira sipped her tea. "You need breakfast."
Breakfast was late.
Again.
Because half the kitchens were still being inspected by cooks traumatized by the words poison adjacent.
When food finally arrived, the nobles attacked it like survivors of a siege.
Elira ate cheerfully, smiling at everyone.
"I am very happy," she announced to a horrified baron. "Marriage fixed me."
The baron nodded, crumbs on his beard. "Yes. Very… fixed."
Aerin leaned toward Mira. "Do you think she believes that?"
Mira watched Elira hug a passing guard nearly unconscious.
"She believes she's trying," Mira said. "That matters."
Across the hall, Valessara watched everything with cool detachment.
She had changed back into regal whites and golds, immaculate, untouched by the previous night's chaos. She sipped wine like a woman watching a play she already knew the ending to.
Cassian stood beside her.
Too close.
His posture was rigid. His jaw clenched.
Valessara's fingers rested possessively on his arm.
"Come with me," she murmured, not asking.
Cassian hesitated.
Aerin didn't see it.
Mira did.
Valessara led Cassian down a side corridor.
Mira's eyes followed them.
Elira noticed.
She stopped smiling.
Just for a second.
Then smiled again.
In a quiet chamber overlooking the city, Valessara released Cassian's arm and turned on him.
"You're sloppy," she said.
Cassian frowned. "What?"
"You let them see," Valessara replied. "Your discomfort."
Cassian crossed his arms. "I don't like being used as leverage."
Valessara stepped closer.
"That's exactly why you're useful."
Cassian stiffened. "You said this was private."
"It is," she said calmly. "As long as I control it."
"You're married to the king."
"Yes."
"And you're still—"
Valessara smiled coldly. "You don't belong to him. You belong to me."
Cassian's hands clenched.
"You can't force—"
"I can," Valessara interrupted. "Because you care."
She leaned in, whispering:
"And I know who you'd bleed for."
Cassian went very still.
"Be careful," she said sweetly. "Or your precious sense of honor will become… inconvenient."
She turned and left.
Cassian stood alone, breathing hard.
Back in the council hall, envoys arrived.
Lots of them.
The Kingdom of Geb sent three representatives.
All three looked exhausted.
The eldest slammed a scroll onto the table.
"What," he said slowly, "is wrong with you people?"
Aerin raised a hand weakly. "In our defense—"
"No," the envoy snapped. "You have three wives, one assassin, one political queen, one calm one, and a wedding that involved knives and squirrels."
Elira raised her hand proudly. "I am reformed."
The envoy stared.
"…Is she?"
"Yes," Elira said cheerfully. "Mostly."
The council began arguing.
Supporters cheered Aerin's boldness.
Opponents called it madness.
Valessara returned just in time to watch the chaos, her expression unreadable.
Mira stood beside Aerin, calm amid the storm.
Elira leaned over to Aerin.
"Do they accept me?"
Aerin smiled tiredly. "They're terrified of you."
Elira beamed. "Good."
Later, as the sun dipped low, Mira stood alone in the garden.
Elira approached quietly.
"I scared you earlier," Elira said.
Mira turned. "Yes."
Elira nodded. "I am sorry."
Mira studied her. "You stopped."
Elira looked surprised. "…Yes."
"That matters," Mira said.
Elira hesitated. "You are jealous."
Mira didn't deny it. "A little."
Elira frowned. "I do not want to hurt you."
"I know," Mira said softly.
Elira nodded solemnly. "Then I will be careful."
A pause.
"…Except squirrels."
Mira almost laughed.
From a balcony above, Valessara watched the two women speak.
Her grip tightened on the railing.
Below, Cassian passed through the courtyard.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
Enough.
Mira noticed.
Elira noticed.
Aerin did not.
Yet.
And somewhere deep in the palace, the Harem Alarm chimed once — low, ominous, and not amused.
The calm was temporary.
Everyone felt it.