Two of a Kind

Carmine settled into the inner palace, a grand structure with towering pillars and intricate marble floors, where a handmaiden named Ivory was assigned to her. Ivory was a delicate-looking young girl, no more than 18 years old, with a round face still holding traces of childhood innocence. Her large, expressive brown eyes shimmered with curiosity and uncertainty, betraying her inexperience and eagerness to serve. Her complexion was smooth, her cheeks often tinged with a natural flush, and she appeared to carry herself with maturity and dignity.

Through their few interactions, Carmine quickly sensed that Ivory was naïve, unversed in the complexities of palace life, and perhaps too trusting for her own good. She remained Carmine's only companion throughout the day.

One day, Ivory walked in, her usual composure shattered. "People gossiped that the Emperor hasn't visited you since your appointment. They're saying you begged for this position just to climb the ranks. They're bad-mouthing you," she blurted out, with rage in her voice.

Carmine remained composed and replied, "We cannot change people's thoughts. Just ignore them." She had no desire to defend herself or change the people's perception of her. Her only duty was to fulfil her role as a namesake Consort and remain in the palace until she was sent back. Nothing else mattered.

Yet, this reminded her of the uncertainty of when she would be sent away, which lingered in her mind. Still, she placed her complete faith in the Emperor's words.

Carmine, with little to occupy her time, found solace in her morning routine. After freshening up, she would dedicate herself to sword practice, her determination unwavering even without a real weapon at hand. She settled for a wooden stick, a poor substitute, but it was all she had. Her dedication to this practice was a testament to her resilience.

Despite the limitations, she treated her training with discipline and precision. Her movements were sharp and controlled, each strike carrying the echoes of past lessons ingrained in her body. She practised footwork, quick slashes, and defensive manoeuvres, focusing on maintaining her balance and agility. The rhythmic sound of the wooden stick cutting through the air became a familiar comfort in the otherwise silent palace.

Though her skills had dulled from lack of proper training, she refused to let them fade entirely. This practice was more than just a way to pass the time—it was a piece of herself she refused to abandon.

Afterwards, she would have her morning meal before visiting the library to immerse herself in books.

She occasionally strolled through her garden after evening dinner before retiring to bed. Her days followed this quiet, monotonous routine, each one blending into the next.

One day, the Emperor wished to consult the book "Arthashastra", a revered text on statecraft and governance, before making an official decision. He instructed Butler Leng to bring it to him.

Butler Leng, in turn, sent a servant to retrieve the book from the Royal Library. However, the servant soon returned and reported, "Butler Leng, the book has been borrowed by Consort Carmine."

A bit flustered, Butler Leng quickly said, "Run to the Consort's palace and inform her that the Emperor requires the book."

Noticing the servant's return, Emperor Cyanx asked, "Bring me the book."

The butler hesitated before replying, "Your Imperial Highness, the book has not been delivered yet." After briefly pausing, he added, "It was borrowed by Consort Carmine, so I sent the servant to retrieve it."

Cyanx considered this momentarily before saying, "It's alright, I will ask her personally."

With that, his sedan made its way to Carmine's residence.

The Emperor's arrival was announced, and the palace servants rushed to the gate to welcome him.

However, Carmine was so deeply engrossed in her book in the backyard that she failed to hear the commotion. The space was serene, with trees providing cool shade, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Vibrant flower beds lined the edges, their soft fragrance blending with the earthy scent of damp soil. A narrow stone pathway meandered through the garden.

Without waiting, Cyanx made his way to her location. Butler Leng stepped forward, offering to notify the Consort, but the Emperor raised a hand, signalling him to remain silent.

As he approached, he saw her seated on a wooden swing hanging from a tree branch, wholly absorbed in her reading. The gentle sway of the swing and the soft rustling of pages created an air of tranquillity around her.

Cyanx walked toward her slowly, his presence unnoticed until a shadow fell across her book. Sensing someone standing before her, Carmine lifted her head—and her eyes met the Emperor's.

Startled, she immediately stopped the swing and bowed respectfully before him.

"Your Imperial Highness, please forgive me. I was so engrossed in my reading that I did not realize your arrival," Carmine said hurriedly, lowering her gaze in apology.

For some reason, Cyanx didn't like how her demeanour shifted when she saw him—her posture straightened, her tone formal.

"It's alright," he said, motioning for her to rise.

She gracefully stood and guided him to the guest chamber. As they walked, Cyanx felt an unexpected awkwardness. He wanted to ask how she was—whether she had been well, whether she was adjusting—but the words felt too personal, almost intrusive. Still, he was glad he had come. Seeing her in person reassured him that she was well.

As Carmine busied herself preparing tea and snacks, Cyanx finally stated why he visited.

"The librarian mentioned that you borrowed the book I was looking for. So, I decided to come and ask for it personally."

Without hesitation, Carmine immediately knelt and presented the book with both hands.

"Your Imperial Highness, here you go. I deeply regret borrowing it without knowing you needed it. Had I known, I would not have dared to borrow it. And had I known that you needed it, I would have delivered it to you."

Cyanx waved off her concern. "It's alright. I don't always use it. In fact, I'm glad that the books in the palace library are being studied rather than gathering dust. Have you finished reading it?"

"Yes. My teacher taught me this long ago, so I was simply revising it."

"Oh?" he mused, intrigued.

Curious about her understanding of political science, he probed further. "Then, tell me—what did you take away from it?"

Carmine's explanation was nothing short of remarkable. She spoke with clarity and precision, breaking down the book's key principles effortlessly. Cyanx found himself captivated, drawn into her analysis as she eloquently detailed the book's teachings.

Time slipped away unnoticed. By the time she finished, the sky outside had darkened—it was already evening.

When Carmine noticed how late it had become, she felt obligated to offer, "Your Imperial Highness, would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

To her surprise, Cyanx welcomed the idea.

During dinner, he found himself genuinely enjoying her company. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on art, history, and music. They exchanged ideas, debated perspectives, and discovered a shared appreciation for many subjects.

For the first time in a long while, Cyanx felt a sense of ease—an unfamiliar yet comforting happiness. It was rare for him to converse with someone his age who could match his intellect and engage him in meaningful discussions.

As the evening came to an end, he reluctantly bid her farewell and returned to his palace.

Yet, as he walked away, a thought lingered in his mind.

How he wished every evening could be like this—with Carmine.