The morning sun spilled its golden light across the marble floors of the east wing, casting long, warm streaks through the tall, arched windows.
The polished stone shimmered gently beneath it, reflecting faint glimmers of light that danced along the floor.
Outside, the birds had already begun their gentle chorus, chirping from the fruit trees lining the terrace, their songs weaving into the soft hum of the breeze that floated through the open archways.
That breeze carried with it the sweet scent of ripening plums from the orchard and a faint trace of roses blooming in the palace gardens below.
Joana sat quietly near the open archway, her back resting lightly against a carved pillar. Jaehaerys, still drowsy from his morning nap, lay on her lap with his cheek pressed against her chest, one tiny hand tangled in the embroidery on her gown's sleeve. She hummed a soft lullaby under her breath, one she remembered her own mother singing long ago.
The boy's eyes fluttered open and shut in lazy intervals, his thumb brushing absently across the edge of her fabric as he clung to the comfort of her warmth.
The chamber was calm, wrapped in the kind of peace that rarely lasted long within the palace walls. Joana had grown to treasure these early hours when the day hadn't yet pressed its weight upon her shoulders, and the noise of court life still felt far away.
Marra appeared a moment later, moving with the silent grace of someone long trained in palace service. She carried a tray with thinly sliced apples, warm oat bread drizzled generously with honey, and a small cup of mint tea. She set it quietly on the low table beside Joana, careful not to disturb the half-asleep child.
"You should eat something, Consort," she said gently, her voice low but coaxing, like a mother waking her own child. "You've been up since dawn."
Joana offered her a tired smile, her fingers brushing Jaehaerys's curls as she nodded. "I will, thank you." She reached for an apple slice and held it out to the boy. He blinked at it suspiciously, sniffed it once, and then took a slow, tentative bite as if it were a test.
Marra gave a small smile and stepped back to her place, content that her lady had at least tried to eat.
Outside, the garden stirred with the signs of life. The leaves of the fig tree rustled softly, and a pair of butterflies danced just beyond the terrace edge. Joana stood slowly, shifting Jaehaerys onto her hip. He let out a sleepy grunt of protest, but soon settled again with his arms looped around her neck.
She stepped out onto the terrace, letting the sunlight fall directly onto her face. It was warm without being oppressive, the kind of sunlight that made you want to close your eyes and breathe deeply. The garden below shimmered with color, bursting with early summer blossoms and tall grasses swaying gently in the breeze.
Her mind wandered freely, as it often did during quiet mornings. She thought of Roslin—wondered what she might be doing just then. Perhaps finishing her morning prayers, or discussing new drapery choices for the main hall with her husband. The thought brought a faint, wistful smile to Joana's lips.
There had been a time when she and Roslin would've shared a quiet laugh over breakfast or stolen a moment of freedom before the demands of court crept in. That time felt very far away now.
Then, without warning, the calm broke.
A sudden rustling sound disrupted the stillness. Joana turned her head quickly toward the far end of the garden. A palace messenger had appeared, rushing through the winding path that cut through the hedges and flowerbeds.
His stride was brisk, his arms full of scrolls and tightly folded letters. His uniform was slightly wrinkled from haste, and a sheen of sweat glistened faintly on his brow.
He was likely taking a shortcut to reach the concubines' wing—this garden path was a lesser-used route, tucked away and easy to overlook.
As he passed by a thick hedge near a rose bush, one of the envelopes slipped from his bundle. It fluttered to the grass like a dying leaf, pale and unnoticed. The messenger didn't see it fall. His pace never slowed, and within moments, he had vanished around the bend.
"Wait!" Joana called out instinctively, raising one hand. "You dropped something!"
But her voice reached no ears. The man was already gone.
She stood still for a heartbeat, then glanced down at Jaehaerys—who had managed to wriggle down and was now far more engrossed in poking a bright yellow flower with a stick. Joana stepped toward the letter.
It lay half-hidden among the grass, slightly creased, its red wax seal still intact. There was no name on the front. Just a strange symbol—something like a spiral, or perhaps a snake coiled into a tight ring. Joana frowned slightly, crouching to pick it up. She turned it over in her fingers, examining the seal more closely.
She should have left it where it lay. Called one of the maids to retrieve it. Given it to the stewards, who handled such things with routine precision.
But the letter held her in place.
Something about that symbol... it was unfamiliar. It didn't match any of the common crests used in the court.
Her gaze flicked back toward the path. The messenger might return any second. She had only a moment.
Joana pressed her nail under the wax and broke the seal with a soft snap. The letter inside was thin and neatly folded. She opened it carefully and read.
The handwriting was deliberate, too neat. Almost strained. As though the writer had forced themselves to write slower, more carefully—perhaps to disguise their usual hand.
"You've missed your last appointment, and that cannot continue. The life liquid loses potency if not replenished regularly. You know this. I understand your caution,
But you must come to take the life liquid soon. Enter through the back door again. No one must see."
She blinked. Then read it again, slower.
The words made no immediate sense. Life liquid? Potency? Appointment? At first glance, it seemed medical—but the phrasing was strange. Clinical, yet veiled. And the secrecy... No one must see. That line chilled her more than the rest.
A sound broke through her thoughts.
Footsteps.
The messenger was returning. He came rushing back down the same path, his arms lighter now, face slightly flushed from exertion. He hadn't noticed the letter was missing.
Joana reacted quickly. She slipped the parchment back into the envelope and pressed the wax closed with her thumb as best she could. It didn't look perfect, but it might pass at a glance.
She walked calmly toward the path, holding the letter up in one hand.
"Messenger," she called out softly, "You dropped this."
He stopped, looking up with surprise. "Oh—thank you, my lady," he said, bowing as he accepted the letter. "Must've fallen from the stack. I appreciate your kindness."
Joana gave him a gentle smile. "Be careful with those. Some letters are not meant to wander."
"Yes, my lady." He bowed again and turned to go, but Joana's voice stopped him.
"By the way... whose letter is this?"
He glanced at it briefly, then answered without much thought. "Oh, as usual, it's for the Gracious Mother. Probably another invitation from the Grand Healer for her next appointment."
Joana raised a brow. "Hmm? How do you know that?"
The messenger shifted slightly, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, it's not the first one. Every time a letter comes from the Grand Healer, the Gracious Mother goes to see him. People say he has some kind of miraculous medicine… something to keep her looking young, I think."
"I see," Joana said quietly. "You may go."
He bowed once more, then turned and continued down the path, his steps fading into the distance.
Joana remained standing in the grass long after he'd disappeared, her gaze unfocused. The words of the letter echoed again and again in her mind.
The life liquid loses potency... No one must see.
What did it mean? She didn't know exactly.
But she knew who it was for.
"Well... whatever, it's not my business. I shouldn't concern myself with this... whatever it is."
She sighed and forgot about the contents of the letter.
She looked down at Jaehaerys, who had now discovered a fat green caterpillar crawling over his palm. His eyes were wide with innocent fascination, his mouth slightly open in awe.
Joana knelt beside him, gently scooping him into her arms and pulling him close to her chest. She held him there for a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his tiny breath against her.
"You little troublemaker... don't go touching strange things like that," she scolded softly, her voice more amused than stern.
But alas, the boy was still a toddler—far too young to understand what she meant. He simply blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips, still fascinated by the caterpillar he had just held.
Joana let out a soft sigh and turned her head toward Marra. "Marra, bring some water, would you? I need to wash his hands before he tries to eat something again."
"Yes, my lady," Marra replied, already moving with practiced speed.
After a few moments, Marra returned with a basin of fresh water and a soft cloth. Joana carefully took Jaehaerys's small hands and wiped them clean, making sure no trace of garden dirt—or caterpillar slime—remained.
Once she was satisfied, she stood, cradling him against her shoulder. Without another word, she walked back through into the quiet comfort of her chambers, ready to rest at last.