The palace that morning was strangely hollow. The golden corridors, polished to the sheen of still water, carried the echoes of servants rushing with trays, of ministers whispering behind pillars, of pages running to and fro with sealed scrolls. Yet for all the noise, one presence was missing—hers.

The young emperor walked slowly down the hall, the sunlight falling through the high lattice windows catching strands of his pale blond hair, making them burn like threads of fire. His amber eyes, molten and restless, slid from face to face. Each servant bowed low, trembling, as if the very weight of his silence might crush them. He did not ask. He did not need to. The emptiness beside him, the absence of the one who should have been trailing after him, was already an answer.

"Where is she?" one handmaiden whispered behind her sleeve, her voice barely audible. "Shh! If His Majesty hears—" another hissed, pulling her back.

Kaelith's lips curved faintly, though the smile was wrong - stretched too still, too controlled. The gold of his hair gleamed beneath the slanted sun, his amber eyes glowing as if swallowing the light whole. Beneath the surface of that boyish grace, his teeth clenched with quiet violence, but when the doors at the far end of the corridor finally opened and she stepped in—ah, how swiftly the mask slid into place.

The emperor's pace slowed, deceptively languid, almost childlike. He lifted a hand in greeting, the sun catching on the jeweled rings adorning his fingers. The gilded hem of his black robe whispered across the marble as he approached, tilting his head with an air of feigned innocence. His smile was honeyed, sweet enough to rot.