Later that night, Arvin held Mirha in his arms, their bodies still warm from the long day. The palace was quiet, the only light coming from a single low lamp.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face and asked again, voice soft with curiosity.
"Wait… I know I've asked you this a lot, but you mean to say your step-brother tried to marry you, and your father sent him away to Lamig?"
Mirha looked at him, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. "You really enjoy this, don't you?"
Arvin shook his head innocently, though the glint in his eyes gave him away.
Mirha laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. Arvin kissed her back, deepening it slowly as he rolled them so he was on top of her. His hands slid under her nightgown, lifting the silk higher with deliberate care. He kissed down her neck, then lower, savoring every inch of her as he pushed the fabric aside.
When he finally entered her, it was slow and deep — a smooth, unhurried slide that made Mirha gasp and arch beneath him. He moved with gentle dominance, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that had her moaning softly into his shoulder. There was no rush tonight. Just the quiet, burning connection between them as the night deepened around them.
They made love slowly, bodies moving together in perfect sync, whispers and soft gasps filling the space between them. When they finally came down from the high, Arvin held her close, kissing her temple as their breathing slowed.
Afterward, they bathed together — warm water, gentle touches, quiet laughter as they washed each other. When they returned to bed, Mirha curled against his chest, already drifting.
But then she hissed sharply, a small sound of discomfort.
Arvin's eyes opened. "What's wrong?"
"It's just a sharp pain," she murmured, shifting slightly. "It's alright. It's been happening a lot lately."
Arvin furrowed his brows, concern cutting through the afterglow. "Why didn't you tell Yadid?"
Mirha yawned, already half-asleep. "He's been busy lately. I'll tell him tomorrow."
Arvin nodded, though worry lingered in his eyes. He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. "Sleep, my love."
They both drifted off, the palace quiet around them.
Some time in the middle of the night, Arvin woke to the sound of Mirha panting.
He opened his eyes and saw her curled on her side, sweating, one hand clutching her lower belly tightly. Her face was twisted in pain.
"Mirha?" he said, alarm rising in his voice.
She didn't respond, only whimpered softly, breath coming in short, labored gasps.
Arvin sat up instantly, heart hammering. "Yadid!" he shouted toward the door, voice sharp with panic. "Call Yadid now!"
He pulled Mirha into his arms, trying to comfort her as she trembled against him, the pain clearly worsening.
The guards outside rushed to fetch the physician.
Arvin held her tighter, fear tightening his chest as he whispered against her hair, "Hold on, my love… just hold on."
The guards rushed out immediately to fetch Yadid.
They first went to his chambers, but the room was empty. They hurried next to Heman's quarters. Mayora answered the door, her face paling when she heard the urgency.
"I'll go to Lady Mirha right away," she said, already grabbing her shawl.
Heman nodded and went in search of Yadid himself.
He found the physician walking calmly from the direction of the Empress's wing. Yadid looked completely normal — composed, nothing suspicious in his posture or expression.
"The prince was having a slight fever," Yadid said smoothly, which was partly true. "I was just checking on him."
Heman's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his voice even. "Lady Mirha needs attention immediately."
Yadid nodded without hesitation. "Alright."
He turned and headed toward Arvin's chambers, Heman following close behind.
When they entered the room, the atmosphere was heavy with worry. Mirha was already asleep, curled tightly in Arvin's arms. The Emperor looked up, relief flickering across his face at the sight of the physician.
Mayora was already by the bed, checking Mirha's pulse with gentle fingers. She leaned toward Yadid and whispered so only he could hear:
"Her Majesty is pregnant."
Yadid's eyes widened the moment Mayora whispered the words.
Realization hit him like a cold wave.
He leaned closer to Mayora and whispered urgently, "This should not be happening. The concubine's tea has caused so much damage to her womb… completely. And that is the best-case scenario."
Mayora couldn't argue. She knew every detail — the long-term effects, the irreversible harm, the quiet warnings she had given before. Her face remained composed, but her eyes betrayed deep concern.
Yadid's voice dropped even lower. "We have to abor—"
Heman interrupted sharply, his tone low but firm. "I think this is neither the time nor the place to talk about this."
Yadid froze, then bowed his head slightly. "I apologise. We will come back tomorrow. Good night."
Heman and Mayora quietly excused themselves, leaving the room in heavy silence.
Arvin remained seated on the bed, still holding Mirha's sleeping form protectively against his chest. His jaw was tight, eyes dark with unspoken worry as he stared at the closed door.
The weight of what he had just overheard settled over him like a shadow.
------------>
Mirha woke in the late morning, her body heavy and her mind still foggy.
She opened her eyes to find Yadid, Mayora, and the elderly Ruso standing near the bed. Arvin sat on the other side, silent and tense, waiting.
Mirha looked at them, confusion turning quickly to dread.
Yadid spoke first, voice gentle but serious. He explained everything — the long-term damage from the Lotus Veil Tea, how it had weakened her womb, the risks of carrying the pregnancy, and the very real possibility that continuing could endanger her life.
Mirha listened in silence. When he finished, she let out a small, shaky chuckle.
"My baby will live," she said softly.
Yadid's expression tightened. "And you?"
Mirha met his eyes. "Why not? This is a miracle baby. They are already showing resilience by existing."
Mayora stepped closer, voice filled with quiet worry. "The baby is not the issue here. They will be okay. It's you we worry about."
Mirha's jaw set with quiet determination. "I am keeping my baby."
Arvin's voice cut through the room, firm and immediate. "No. You are not."
He turned to Yadid. "Go prepare the abortion herbs."
Mirha's eyes flashed. "No!"
She sat up straighter, voice rising. "We don't have a baby, Arvin."
Arvin's tone sharpened with fear and frustration. "Èvana already has an heir!"
Mirha's voice cracked as tears filled her eyes. "You may have a child… but I don't. I don't have my heir."
The room fell silent except for Mirha's quiet sobs. Arvin's heart broke at the sound. He moved instantly, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly against his chest.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice rough with regret. "I just don't want anything bad happening to you."
Mirha didn't respond. She simply clung to him and kept crying, the tears soaking into his robe.
Ruso finally spoke, his old voice calm but grave.
"I think there is a way to keep both of them safe. But that only means we have to focus on damaging the womb even more… and the baby must be born before its time."
Yadid sat quietly, already doing calculations in his mind on how to execute such a risky plan.
Mirha wiped her eyes, voice trembling. "Won't that hurt the baby?"
Ruso looked at her steadily. "You are ready to gamble, right?"
Mirha paused, then nodded slowly, eyes still wet.
Arvin looked hopeless. All he could do was agree, but his voice was heavy with command when he spoke.
"It will be a secret. No one should know of the Consort's pregnancy. She will move back to the Golden Estate immediately. Preparations will be made."