FOUND A FRIEND

Golden light spilled into the imperial hall through sheer white drapes as the morning sun climbed the horizon, but the warmth it brought did little to thaw the chill in the air. A tense silence clung to the marble corridors of the emperor's wing. Servants moved with quiet urgency, heads bowed, eyes lowered, avoiding even the faintest echo of gossip. Word had begun to circulate in whispers—not quite a scandal, but something grave enough that even the palace walls seemed to listen.

In the main audience chamber, Emperor Arvin sat, legs crossed with perfect poise on the carved throne that once belonged to his father. His robes were still undone at the collar, his hair loosely tied, evidence of how early he'd been awoken. Yet his face was calm, serene almost—a striking contrast to the fury emanating from the man standing beside him.

General Kain.

A storm brewed behind Kain's eyes, his jaw clenched tight. He stood rigid in his imperial armor, though the ceremonial plates had been discarded for a leather chest strap and his sword still hung from his belt. He had not slept. There had been no time. Only rage and calculation.

"Whoever did this," Kain began, voice low but trembling with fury, "knew exactly what they were doing."

Arvin glanced up at his older brother, watching him pace like a lion in a cage. "They targeted her directly?"

Kain scoffed, bitter and sharp. "Not just her. They used a maid. One of my fiancée's servants. It's not just treason, Arvin. It's personal."

The word 'fiancée' hung in the air, and Arvin's brows lifted slightly.

He set down the letter he'd been reading and gestured for Heman, the imperial scribe, who stood quietly in the corner. "Send a summon to Crown Prince Kalan. Discreetly."

Heman bowed. "Under what pretense, Your Majesty?"

Arvin thought a moment. "Say I wish to consult him on the new tax proposal for the outer provinces. Something he wouldn't question."

Heman bowed again and swiftly exited, robes brushing silently across the polished stone.

Once the doors closed, Arvin turned to Kain and smiled faintly. His expression was a contrast to the tension that gripped the room. "You barely know her, brother. Yesterday was her first day here."

Kain turned sharply. "And yet she's mine to protect."

Arvin's lips twitched. "Protective already, I see. You're reacting more like a husband than a betrothed."

Kain exhaled sharply through his nose and looked away.

The emperor chuckled under his breath.

Kain shot him a glare. "And you think that's funny?"

Arvin raised both hands innocently, though the amusement never left his face. "No, no. I just find it curious."

Kain grunted, leaning against a pillar. His fingers drummed against his thigh. "If it weren't for Lady Mirha's quick thinking, we wouldn't even know what truly happened. Even the palace physician was stumped."

That wiped the smile off Arvin's face.

"Mirha?" he repeated.

Kain nodded. "Do you know her?"

Arvin leaned back into the throne, frowning. "I've heard of her. One of Empress Nailah's ladies. Daughter of Launi Eden of Bukid. Kind. Quiet. But I never knew she had any training in medicine."

Kain crossed his arms. "She claims her grandparents were herbalists. She said it with enough conviction that I believed her. She even brought ginger roots. Goya's condition improved by morning."

Arvin studied his brother quietly, noting how Kain's voice softened ever so slightly when he said Goya's name.

"So," Arvin mused, "we owe a life…to a lady-in-waiting."

Kain said nothing. His silence was its own answer.

Arvin nodded thoughtfully but said nothing more of Mirha. She was under Empress Nailah's household—beyond his or Kain's direct command. Whatever her talents were, her station would remain untouched unless the Empress herself decreed otherwise.

Kain's jaw flexed again. "She took responsibility. Defended her maid. She could have let the girl hang. Instead, she walked into a chamber full of guards and nobles like a trained medic."

Arvin's curiosity deepened but chose to let it pass. "Keep this quiet. Only you, me, Heman, and the Crown Prince."

Kain nodded.

Then, with a curt bow, he turned on his heel and strode toward the doors.

Arvin called after him. "Kain."

He paused.

"Try not to start a war before breakfast."

Kain didn't smile, but his shoulders relaxed just slightly as he left.

---

After Kain left, the chamber quieted again. Arvin leaned back on the throne, one hand resting on the lion-etched armrest. But his heart began to race.

Mirha.

It echoed in his chest, unbidden. Her name stirred something strange and warm in him, like a sunrise through heavy mist. He closed his eyes and saw her—not in silk or fanfare, but kneeling in a pit, brushing off her skirts, speaking calmly even though she had no idea who he was. She still didn't.

They'd never spoken beyond that one incident. She hadn't known he was the emperor. Yet her voice still lived rent-free in his head. Her calmness. Her hands. Her eyes. There was no logical reason for this feeling, but it was real.

He exhaled deeply.

Perhaps later, when this was all resolved, he might find a reason to speak with her again.

He just hoped she wouldn't recognize the tremor in his voice when he did.

The scent of jasmine lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of incense that had long since burned out. Goya sat upright on the bed, a silk robe drawn over her shoulders, though her fingers fiddled absently with the trim. Her eyes were tired but lucid, lips gently parted as though on the verge of asking questions she wasn't sure anyone could answer.

The soft creak of the door stirred her.

She turned her head just as Queen Mother Raina, regal and calm, gave her a small, reassuring smile from her seat near the open window.

"You'll be fine, child," the queen mother said. Her voice was as gentle as a lullaby, a balm against the tension in the room. "You are stronger than most. That's what makes you worthy of standing beside my son."

Before Goya could respond, the door creaked again.

A tall figure filled the doorway, backlit by the hallway's filtered light—Kain.

He entered with a quiet urgency, but paused when he saw the queen mother already seated at Goya's side. He blinked, visibly surprised, then straightened.

Queen Raina gave him a knowing smile as she rose. "I see I've been beat to the exit," she murmured lightly, placing a hand on his shoulder as she passed him. "You'll do well, Kain," she added in a whisper only he could hear. "She already sees you."

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving a blanket of quiet between them.

Kain's mouth opened, then closed.

So did Goya's.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other—neither quite sure what to say, as if the wrong word would shatter the tentative peace that had settled in the wake of chaos.

Goya looked down first, her voice breaking the silence in a whisper. "Thank you… for helping me."

Kain shifted where he stood, his fingers twitching at his sides. "You don't need to thank me."

There was no harshness in his tone, just a quiet firmness. He moved closer but didn't sit, instead remaining near the foot of the bed, almost as if he feared getting too close.

"I'll find out who did this," he said, his voice lower now—rough with exhaustion, but filled with steel. "And when I do… they'll regret ever trying."

Goya's breath hitched. Not from fear, but from something else—something warmer. She studied him, truly looked at him. He wasn't just the infamous general anymore. He was a man who hadn't slept. A man who had kept watch. For her.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" she asked softly, almost teasing but not quite.

Kain looked away, clearing his throat. "I spent the night… asking questions."

Goya tilted her head. "That's not a no."

"No," he admitted, eyes returning to hers. "And you?"

She gave a small, tired smile. "I couldn't. My mind wouldn't let me."

Their eyes met again. This time, the silence wasn't awkward. It was weighted. A pause filled with questions neither knew how to ask, and feelings neither had the language for.

"I didn't know what was happening," Goya said at last, her voice quieter. "I thought… I thought I was going mad."

Kain's jaw tensed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "It wasn't madness. It was deliberate. The physician confirmed—it was an aphrodisiac. Something strong… something meant to shame or trap you."

"But why?" Goya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know yet," he said. "But I swear I'll find out."

She believed him. She didn't know why—but she did.

For a moment, they both just stood in that delicate silence, staring at each other as if unsure where one breath ended and the other began.

"I…" Goya hesitated, fingers curling against her palm. "If it's not too much… I'd like to see Mirha. Just for a moment. She must be so frightened."

Kain didn't respond right away. Then he stepped closer, finally sitting on the edge of a nearby chair.

"I'll bring her here," he said gently. "It's safer this way. You don't need to be walking around yet."

Their eyes met again. Goya smiled, faint and full of unspoken things.

And for the first time in a long time, Kain felt uncertain.

Not because of weakness. But because something about this girl—this woman—unnerved him in a way no battlefield ever could.

And Goya? She didn't fully understand why her heart felt warm just from looking at him.

But she didn't want him to leave.

**

Mirha was in her chambers, brushing her long curly hair as Suni prepared a tea tray.

"I was thinking of checking on Princess Goya this morning," Mirha said, glancing toward the window.

"You should," Suni replied. "Oh, and—Duke Rnzo and Lady Gina didn't sleep in the palace last night."

Mirha froze mid-motion. "They didn't?"

Suni shrugged. "Not that surprising, right?"

Mirha nodded slowly. "No. I suppose not."

Before she could respond further, one of Kain's personal guards appeared at her door.

"The Princess wishes to see you," he announced.

Mirha stood at once, setting aside her brush. She didn't bother tying her hair—long, dark curls cascaded freely down her back. She followed the guard through the palace halls, her heart beating a little faster with every step.

When she arrived, Goya was seated in front of her mirror, dabbing powder onto her cheeks. She turned, and when she saw Mirha, she smiled.

Mirha smiled back. "You look well," she said softly.

"Please," Goya gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Mirha obeyed, sitting across from her.

"Thank you so much, Mirha," Goya said sincerely. "You were so kind. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Mirha shook her head, embarrassed. "Please. I was only trying to help. And besides, we're even now. Remember when you saved me from Lord Fahit?"

Goya burst into laughter. "How could I forget? I dressed up like a maid, and he nearly dragged me into his chambers thinking I was you!"

They both laughed until their eyes watered. The room, once so tense, now felt like a haven.

Mirha began telling stories about her grandfather's herb garden, describing how he would whisper to the plants as if they were old friends. Goya was fascinated—and a little envious.

"You make it sound so magical," she whispered.

"It was," Mirha replied, then her tone shifted. "They passed when I was seven. After that, it was just me and Mama. It got... dark for a while. But she's the most optimistic woman I know. She found ways to laugh even when we had nothing."

Goya nodded solemnly, sensing the undercurrent of grief. "I know what it's like to lose someone."

They sat in gentle silence.

Then, Mirha said something Goya didn't expect. "Hosha and I practically grew up together."

Goya blinked. The name carried weight.

"I wasn't sure if it was alright to talk about him," Goya said quietly.

Mirha smiled softly. "It's alright. There shouldn't be unspoken tension between us. We're women, not rivals."

Goya felt a mix of gratitude and curiosity. She could see the ghost of affection in Mirha's eyes when she said Hosha's name—and she knew, without needing proof, that Hosha still loved her.

But she also knew something else: she liked Mirha. She genuinely did.

And maybe that was what made all the difference, But now it didn't really matter she has found a Friend.