The world seemed to freeze.
The crowd gasped, murmurs breaking out in alarm, but the only thing Rnzo could focus on was Gina's pale, unmoving body.
Misha was the first to react.
"My daughter!" she shrieked, her voice cracking in perfectly practiced horror. She rushed forward, her skirts billowing, and fell to her knees beside Gina. "My sweet child, what has happened to you? Someone—help her!" Her voice was high-pitched, desperate. But Rnzo saw through it.
Unlike her, Mirha's panic was real.
She had dropped to the ground beside Gina, hands shaking as she pressed two fingers against Gina's wrist, searching for a pulse. Her face paled even further.
"She's not breathing," Mirha whispered, voice strained with fear. Then, louder, "Her corset—it's too tight!"
There was no hesitation. Mirha's fingers flew to the laces, struggling to undo them. But the knots were tight, the fabric stiff from how forcefully it had been tied.
"Help me," Mirha pleaded.
One of the maids hesitated before rushing forward, but Misha placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "That's improper," she said sharply, her voice low enough that only Mirha, Rnzo, and the nearby maids could hear.
Mirha whipped her head up, her normally gentle eyes blazing. "She cannot breathe, Lady Misha! She will die if we do nothing!"
For a moment, the two women locked gazes, a silent battle of will between them. Then, without waiting for permission, Mirha tore at the corset herself. The strings loosened, and Gina's chest finally rose with a slow, shaky breath.
Rnzo, who had been watching in tense silence, finally moved.
"She needs to be taken inside," he said.
Misha turned to him, her tear-streaked face an exaggerated mask of concern. "Duke Rnzo, you are her fiancé, are you not? Please, you must carry her! I cannot trust anyone else with my daughter's safety."
He hesitated.
It was not proper for him to carry her in such a vulnerable state. But Misha's insistence was relentless, and more importantly, Gina needed to be moved now.
Mirha, sensing his hesitation, quickly called for a maid to bring a scarf. When it was brought, she carefully draped it over Gina's chest to ensure her modesty.
Only then did Rnzo step forward.
He bent down, arms sliding beneath Gina's unconscious form, and lifted her with ease. She was too light—far too light for someone her age and stature. His grip tightened slightly, frustration curling in his chest.
Without another word, he carried her toward her chambers.
The moment they reached Gina's room, Rnzo laid her down on the bed, stepping back as Mirha adjusted the blankets.
The physician arrived shortly after, having been summoned by Rnzo himself. He entered with his usual calm demeanor, though his sharp eyes quickly assessed the situation.
"How long has she gone without food?" he asked.
Mirha bit her inner cheek. " the last time i saw her eating was least four days."
The physician sighed, his expression darkening. "Then I will not be administering any medicine."
Misha gasped, hand flying to her chest. "What? But you must—"
The physician 's eyes flashed. "Giving her medication in this state would be no different from poisoning her. Her body is too weak. What she needs now is food and rest, nothing else, look at her..... her breathing is even unsteady."
Rnzo's jaw tightened, his fists clenching. He exhaled sharply, then turned toward the door.
"We wait," he said simply.
And so they did.
Hours passed. The tension in the room was thick, but Mirha never left Gina's side.
Then, finally, Gina stirred.
The first thing Gina saw upon waking was Rnzo's furious expression and Mirha's worried gaze.
Before she could speak, the door swung open, and Misha stormed in, her face twisted into a mask of exaggerated concern.
"My darling!" she cried, rushing to Gina's bedside. "You frightened me so much! If I had known you were this unwell, I would have never let you—"
Rnzo turned on his heel and left.
Mirha hesitated for only a moment before following him. She saw it—the way Gina's body stiffened at her mother's voice, the distress hidden beneath her tired eyes.
Mirha ran to catch up with Rnzo. "Your Grace!" she called breathlessly.
He was already approaching Emperor Arvin's study when he finally stopped and turned. His face was unreadable, his eyes cold.
"She's sorry," Mirha said, still panting. "She had no choice. Please… accept her."
Something in Rnzo's expression shifted. His jaw unclenched slightly, and for a moment, his hardened gaze softened.
"Mirha," he said quietly. "Make sure she eats. Can you do that for me?"
Mirha smiled softly. "Of course, Your Grace."
Just as she turned to leave, Emperor Arvin appeared in the hallway. He caught sight of her back as she rushed off, her dark curly hair bouncing.
Rnzo noticed Arvin's lingering gaze but ignored it.
Back in the room, Gina sat in silence, lost in thought.
Then Mirha returned, her warmth filling the space. Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed beside Gina, settling in comfortably.
"You need to eat," Mirha said gently.
Gina tried to protest, but Mirha picked up a piece of fruit and bit into it herself. "See? Not so bad."
Gina smiled weakly. She took a small bite.
And for the first time in days, she felt at ease.
The moment the doors creaked open again, the warmth vanished.
Misha.
The woman stepped inside with slow, deliberate movements, her expression the perfect mask of a loving, concerned mother. But Gina knew better.
She always knew better.
"Gina," Misha breathed, her voice thick with practiced emotion. "How are you feeling, my love?"
Mirha subtly shifted, placing herself more between Gina and Misha, her fingers lightly brushing Gina's wrist in quiet reassurance.
Gina swallowed, forcing herself to sit straighter. "I feel... better."
Misha clasped her hands together in exaggerated relief. "Oh, thank the heavens. You have no idea how worried I was." She stepped closer, reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Gina's ear. "You should have told me you were feeling unwell. You know I would have—"
Gina turned her face away.
The rejection was small. Subtle.
But Misha noticed.
A brief flicker of something dangerous passed through her eyes. Her hand hovered in midair for a fraction too long before she withdrew it, smoothing her skirts as if nothing had happened.
She turned her attention to Mirha. "Lady Mirha, you have been so kind to my daughter. Truly, I am grateful."
Mirha held her gaze steadily. "It was only right."
Misha smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yes. Of course."
Gina clenched her fingers into the sheets, willing her heart to stop pounding. She knew what this was. The same game they had played for years. Misha would pretend. She would say all the right things, show all the right emotions. And Gina, in turn, would be expected to fall in line.
But something was different this time.
Maybe it was the weight of everything—the humiliation of collapsing in front of the court, the undeniable proof that her body was failing, the way Rnzo had looked at her with such anger, such disappointment.
Or maybe it was Mirha.
Mirha, who had torn off the corset without hesitation. Mirha, who had argued against Misha without fear. Mirha, who sat beside her now, solid and unwavering.
For the first time in a long while, Gina felt like she wasn't alone.
Misha's eyes flicked over her once more before she stepped back. "You should rest. We will talk more tomorrow."
And then she was gone.
The tension remained, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Mirha exhaled first. "You don't have to listen to her, you know."
Gina let out a bitter laugh. "And what choice do I have?"
Mirha turned fully to face her, eyes searching hers. "Rnzo cares. Even if he doesn't say it. And I care. You're not alone, Gina."
Gina looked down at her hands, a lump forming in her throat.
Not alone.
The words felt foreign.
She wanted to believe them.
She really did.
But could she?
Days passed quickly, Duke Rnzo hadn't been to the Imperial castle for a while, Misha had been happy and taking care of Gina as she slowly started to recover from her incident 3 days prior, Mirha on the other hand had been keeping Gina company as she was recovering. Being a ñabia now Gina was relieved of her duties and appearances to the court rather her tradition Spas were set to begin.
In the emperor's study,
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Enter," Arvin called.
The door opened, and Rnzo stepped inside.
The candlelight cast sharp shadows across his face, his expression unreadable. He closed the door behind him and walked toward the desk with measured steps.
Arvin leaned forward, clasping his hands together. " You look disturbed, and you went missing what is the matter?."
Rnzo exhaled through his nose. "I was occupied."
Arvin raised an eyebrow. "Occupied? Or avoiding the Imperial Court?"
Rnzo met his gaze without hesitation. "Both."
A smirk tugged at Arvin's lips. He had always appreciated Rnzo's bluntness. It was a rare trait among the nobility.
Arvin gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Sit."
Rnzo hesitated for a fraction of a second before lowering himself onto the seat.
The room settled into silence, the only sound the distant murmuring of the castle beyond these walls.
After a long pause, Arvin spoke.
"The match," he said simply.
Rnzo's jaw tightened. "What about it?"
"She let you win the last round."
Rnzo didn't answer immediately. His fingers curled slightly against the armrest.
"She threw it," Arvin murmured.
Rnzo's expression didn't change, but the slight shift in his shoulders was enough confirmation.
Arvin sighed, rubbing his temple. "I saw the way she looked before she made that final move. The hesitation. The fear."
Rnzo remained silent.
Arvin studied his cousin carefully. Rnzo was not an easy man to read, but tonight, there was something different in his demeanor. A weight he hadn't carried before.
"This isn't just about a match, is it?" Arvin asked.
Rnzo exhaled slowly. "No."
"It was that woman, was it not?"
Rnzo leaned back. "Her mother?"
A slow nod.
Something in Arvin's chest twisted. He had noticed Misha's cold almost... manic stare at Gina , of course—everyone in court did. But to see Gina so visibly affected, to watch her collapse in front of everyone…
It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"She passed out."
Rnzo's voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. A restrained frustration.
Arvin nodded. "I heard."
"She hasn't eaten in days."
That caught Arvin's attention. His brows furrowed. "What?"
Rnzo's expression darkened. Ruso checked on her. Said giving her medicine now would do more harm than good." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Four days. And no one noticed."
Arvin absorbed the information, his fingers drumming against the desk.
No one noticed… or no one dared to intervene?
Rnzo sighed. "
Finally, he stood. "I should go."
Arvin didn't stop him. "Take care Rnzo. Oh and Kain is in the city will you see him?"
Rnzo stopped in his tracks with a smile creeping up his face.
"Why not"
Then leaving the room.
Heman then walking in a announced their carriage back to Malaka is ready, Arvin got up and soon Heman followed behind him.
Arvin's return to Malaka Castle was met with the usual orderliness of the grand halls, but this time, an unexpected warmth lingered in the air. As he made his way through the corridors, he passed by the tea room, where he caught a fleeting glimpse of Nailah laughing lightly, a sound he hadn't heard in a while. She was seated comfortably, her hands delicately wrapped around a porcelain teacup, while Yadid sat across from her, engaged in pleasant conversation.
Arvin hesitated for a moment, observing them from the doorway. Nailah looked content—relieved even. It made his chest feel lighter somehow. Without interrupting, he continued toward his study, leaving them undisturbed.
Moments later, Elara entered the tea room, her expression composed yet carrying an air of suppressed excitement. She gracefully took a seat beside Nailah, waiting for an opportune moment before speaking.
"Elara, you look like you have something to say," Nailah noted with a smile, placing her cup down.
Elara glanced at Yadid before turning back to Nailah. "Your Majesty, it seems that Gina is now officially a ñabia to Duke Rnzo. The entire Imperial Castle is talking about it."
Nailah's eyes sparkled with delight. "I always knew, she would come around. " she said with a soft chuckle. "The Duke has never been one to pursue anything without certainty."
Yadid arched a brow. "You don't seem surprised in the least."
"Because I am not," Nailah replied smoothly. "It was inevitable."
Elara smiled, relieved to see Nailah's cheerful disposition. The Empress had grown fond of Gina in her own way, and it was reassuring to see her speak of the matter with such warmth.
Once Elara excused herself, the room fell into a thoughtful silence. Yadid sipped his tea before resting his cup down, his gaze settling on Nailah with a quiet intensity.
"Has His Majesty taken a concubine yet?" he asked casually.
Nailah blinked, slightly caught off guard. "No. I haven't selected one for him."
Yadid studied her reaction carefully before leaning back in his chair. "You may not see it as a priority, but others will. If you do not choose for him, someone else will."
Nailah frowned slightly, her fingers tightening around her teacup. "What are you implying?"
Yadid sighed, his voice calm but firm. "If you don't make the choice, Elara will be selected."
A cold feeling settled in Nailah's chest. Her breath hitched, though she masked her unease well. She looked down at her cup, swirling the remaining tea as if the motion would settle her thoughts. "That… would not be ideal."
Yadid exhaled slowly, realizing he might have spoken too bluntly. "I didn't mean to unsettle you. I only wanted to warn you."
Nailah remained quiet for a moment before offering a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Yadid. I will take your words into consideration."
She appreciated his honesty, even if it left her feeling more unsettled than before. Nailah soon left Yadid alone
Yadid's mind shortly started to drift far as he thought to himself.
As Yadid sipped his tea, he found himself lingering on the conversation he'd had with Nailah. The mention of Arvin taking a concubine had been little more than an idle comment, yet the way her face paled at the mere thought unsettled him. He hadn't meant to frighten her. In truth, he had only spoken the reality of court politics—if she did not choose a concubine for the Emperor, the court would do it for her. And that was dangerous.
But the more he thought about it, the more unrealistic the idea seemed.
Arvin was a man of principle. More than that, he was a ruler who carried himself with dignity and discipline. He wasn't one to seek out women for pleasure, and Yadid doubted he ever would. A concubine wasn't just about companionship in the Emperor's position—it was a power play, a tool for influence, a statement of alliances.
And Arvin? He had never once shown an inclination for such things.
Yet, if Nailah didn't act, the court wouldn't wait for her decision. Elara was the most likely candidate.
Elara was… safe. She was steady, unassuming, and had a warmth to her that allowed people to be vulnerable around her without fear of judgment. If Arvin ever sought a confidante, Elara could easily become that person. And that was what worried Yadid.
Because Nailah was not like Elara.
Nailah was soft-hearted, easily swayed by the opinions of those she trusted. A woman like her, if not careful, could be influenced into making decisions that weren't truly her own. And if she let the court dictate Arvin's concubine, they would not choose a woman like Elara—they would choose someone with ambition, someone who knew how to manipulate power to her advantage.
Yadid sighed, placing his cup down.
It wasn't his place to interfere. But he had spent enough time observing Arvin and Nailah to recognize what Nailah herself could not—Arvin did not love her.
He cared for her, certainly. He treated her with kindness and respect. But love? No.
That much had been obvious from the moment Yadid arrived at Malaka.
Arvin fulfilled his duties as a husband, but there was a certain distance between them, a restraint that Nailah either did not notice or chose to ignore. If she was aware of it, she never spoke of it. Perhaps she believed, as so many wives did, that love would come with time.
But Yadid had his doubts.
And if Nailah continued to let herself be swayed so easily… she might find herself watching another woman rise beside her in ways she could not stop.
Yadid brushed those thoughts away quickly. It was dangerous to dwell on them for too long. His loyalty to Arvin was unquestionable, but his concern for Nailah had grown into something he could no longer ignore. He had been at Malaka long enough to see the truth: Nailah was hopelessly devoted to a man who, despite his kindness, did not love her.
And yet, Yadid found himself wanting to change that.
It wasn't just sympathy. Somewhere along the way, he had started falling for the Empress.
He hadn't meant to. He hadn't wanted to. But watching her, seeing her smile even when she was alone, witnessing the way she clung to hope despite everything—he couldn't help it.
So, he vowed to help her win Arvin's heart.
Keeping Arvin from being pushed into taking Elara as his concubine was the first step. If the court forced a woman into Arvin's life, she wouldn't just be a concubine; she would be a rival to Nailah. And Nailah, with all her gentle heart, would lose that battle before it even began.
Yadid exhaled deeply, rubbing his temple as he considered his options.
Should he ask for Elara's hand? If he married her, she would be eliminated as a candidate, making it harder for the court to push her onto Arvin.
But as soon as the thought came, he dismissed it.
It would be pointless.
If Elara was removed, the court would simply appoint another woman—a new personal maid, a noblewoman with the right connections, someone even more dangerous. He couldn't just pluck one threat away; the system would create another.
No, that wasn't the solution.
He needed to be smarter about this. He needed to strengthen Nailah's position, make it impossible for the court to push a concubine on Arvin.
And to do that, he had to get close to the Empress.
His heart clenched at the thought.
Not as a man in love.
But as her ally.