The afternoon sun stretched low across the training grounds, bathing the field in warm gold. The scent of dry grass and polished wood lingered in the air as arrows struck their targets in steady rhythm.
The boys stood in formation—Kilimah, composed and precise; Amir, eager and lively; and beside them, the duke's twins, Zoran and Amar—one measured, the other restless.
A sharp twang echoed.
Kilimah's arrow landed just shy of the center.
Amir followed—his shot wavering before correcting and landing close.
A quiet murmur of approval passed through the instructors.
Under the shade of a canopy, Kain and Yadid watched in silence.
"This is fascinating," Yadid said at last. "How much Amir resembles you."
Kain smirked faintly. "He got the better traits."
Another arrow flew.
"He fits right in," Kain added. "Him and Kilimah—you'd think they were twins."
Yadid nodded, though his gaze lingered thoughtfully.
After a pause, Kain spoke again, more casually.
"When are you getting married?"
Yadid chuckled softly. "I don't know if I will. My heart has already chosen… a rose in a garden I cannot enter."
Kain laughed outright. "So—you love another man's wife? And here I thought you were a great man."
Yadid only smiled and said nothing.
Another arrow struck—dead center.
Neither of them commented.
The quiet shifted as footsteps approached.
Goya arrived, carrying their son, Rowel, who rested calmly in her arms.
"The carriage for the little princess is here," she said.
Kain nodded, then called out, "Boys."
They gathered quickly, discipline fading into youthful ease.
Zoran spotted the baby and waved shyly. "Rowel!"
The child smiled, tiny hand twitching in response.
"He likes you," Amar teased.
"Of course he does," Zoran muttered, grinning.
Kain stepped forward. "Time to head back. Next week—come back better. Especially you, Zoran."
Zoran laughed nervously. "It was the wind, uncle."
The boys burst into laughter.
Kain shook his head lightly. "Go on."
They left in a loose cluster, talking over one another as they disappeared beyond the field.
Yadid set his cup down.
"I'll go with them."
Kain nodded absently, his attention on Rowel.
"Yeah… yeah."
Yadid inclined his head and followed after the boys.
For a moment, he glanced back—Kain beside Goya, the child in his arms, a quiet warmth between them.
Then he turned away.
And walked on.
By the time they returned to the palace, the boys quickly scattered into the halls, their laughter fading behind them.
Yadid made his way quietly to his chambers, the noise of the palace softening with each step. He had barely settled when a knock came at the door.
A maid stood outside, head bowed.
"My apologies, Lord Yadid. Her Majesty requests your presence."
Yadid nodded. "I'll be there shortly."
She left at once.
He closed the door, pausing for a brief moment before a faint, knowing smile crossed his lips. Then he straightened and stepped out—
following the call without hesitation.
The southern garden felt like a dream the world had forgotten.
The evening light spilled softly across the pavilion, turning everything gold—warm, gentle, almost unreal. Clusters of pale blossoms hung low from arching branches, their petals catching the light like tiny lanterns. Some had already fallen, scattering across the stone floor and drifting lazily with the breeze. The air smelled sweet—jasmine, soft rose, something faintly citrus—and every now and then, a petal would brush against skin so lightly it felt imagined.
Mirha sat beneath the pavilion, her gown pooling around her like a second layer of petals. Her fingers absentmindedly played with a fallen bloom, turning it slowly between her fingertips as Arvin rested his head on her lap.
He looked… lighter here.
Not like an emperor.
Just Arvin.
He lifted a hand lazily, pointing toward the far end of the garden where the hedges curved into shadow.
"Right there," he murmured, voice soft with memory. "That's where I first met you… in that hole."
Mirha followed his finger, squinting through the golden haze—then suddenly her eyes widened.
"Wait…" she gasped, turning sharply to him, her voice lifting with disbelief. "That was you?"
Arvin's lips curved, amused, his eyes still half-lidded as if he enjoyed watching her piece it together.
"But that man spoke Madish," she insisted, almost accusing now.
Without missing a beat, he replied in perfect Madish, smooth and teasing—
"And who said I don't speak Madish?"
Mirha froze.
Then slowly, very slowly, she looked down at him, her expression shifting from shock… to realization… to something dangerously close to laughter.
"You knew?" she asked, her voice softer now, but full of disbelief. "All this time?"
He gave the smallest shrug, completely unbothered.
"It never came up."
For a second, she just stared at him.
Then a quiet giggle escaped her—light, helpless, like she couldn't hold it back even if she tried. She shook her head, covering her smile briefly.
"You're unbelievable…"
Her fingers slipped into his hair, brushing through it gently, slower now, more deliberate. The softness of the moment settled around them again, like the garden itself was breathing with them.
A breeze passed.
Petals drifted.
One landed on Arvin's shoulder. Mirha noticed, plucked it off carefully, then absentmindedly tucked it behind his ear.
She paused.
Then giggled again, softer this time.
Arvin opened one eye slightly. "What?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.
For a while, they stayed like that—quiet, close, wrapped in something that didn't need words.
Then Mirha spoke, her voice gentler.
"Queen Mother came to see me yesterday."
Arvin shifted, sitting up just enough to look at her properly, though he didn't move far from her.
"And?" he asked.
"She asked me…" Mirha hesitated for a breath, her fingers still resting lightly against his sleeve, "to allow Amir to become her successor in Kamaya."
Arvin blinked, surprise breaking through his calm.
"What about Kain? Or Rowel?"
Mirha shook her head slowly.
"Kain refused it. And Rowel already carries a crown waiting for him." She smiled faintly. "It wouldn't be fair to give him two."
Arvin studied her, searching her face.
"And you?" he asked quietly. "What did you say?"
Mirha's smile softened—warm, certain.
"How could I say no to Mama Raina?"
There was no hesitation in her voice.
Only trust.
Arvin's gaze lingered on her, deeper now.
"You know what that means," he said.
Mirha nodded, her hand slipping into his, their fingers naturally finding each other.
"I do."
She leaned just a little closer, her voice softer, almost dreamy.
"But I've seen you… you wear the crown, but it doesn't own you."
Her eyes held his, steady and full of something quiet and sure.
"I think Amir will learn that too. That there's life beyond it… beyond duty. I will teach him myself."
For a moment, Arvin said nothing.
The garden seemed to pause with him.
Then he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek.
"I love you."
Mirha smiled, her voice barely a whisper now.
"I love you more."
Arvin pulled back just enough to look at her, a quiet smile forming.
"That's impossible."
Mirha laughed again—soft, bright, like wind through petals.
And as the flowers swayed, and the light slowly faded into evening—
the world felt gentle.
Still.
And entirely theirs.~