[Eshkaran Empire — Imperial City — Evening — Inside the Carriage]
"Where are we going?"
Seyra sat comfortably on the cushioned seat of the imperial-style carriage, dressed in a beautiful ivory tunic embroidered with delicate golden patterns. A lapis-blue sash circled her waist, and tiny golden ornaments decorated her neatly braided hair.
Mira had spent nearly an hour preparing her for the evening, insisting that the young lady of House Veyrath ought to look presentable when visiting the imperial palace.
Seyra had cooperated; now, however, she was beginning to suspect something. Across from her, Azram Vaerun Veyrath glanced up from the documents in his hand.
"The Imperial Palace."
Seyra blinked, once and twice. Her little fingers slowly tightened around the cushion.
"...What?"
For three whole seconds, the carriage remained peaceful.
Then—
CAWWWW!
. . .
. . .
CAW! CAW!
An invisible crow passed somewhere above the carriage, apparently summoned by the gods to witness the tragedy about to unfold.
Seyra shot to her feet.
"WHYYYYYYYY?"
Vaerun’s eyes lifted.
"Papa! WHY ARE WE GOING THERE?! HOW CAN YOU TAKE ME TO THAT PALACE?! THAT IS THE PLACE WHERE I WAS HURT!"
Her voice struck the carriage walls with enough force to frighten the horses. Outside, one of the guards turned his head toward the window, while the coachman tightened his grip on the reins.
Inside, Vaerun slowly lowered his documents; his daughter stood before him, her violet eyes blazing with righteous fury, her cheeks flushed, and her tiny fists clenched at her sides.
For one brief moment, the Azram of House Veyrath wondered whether he should have brought an additional pair of ears.
She stared at him as though he had personally betrayed every child in the empire. Vaerun gestured toward the empty cushion. Seyra dropped onto the seat with enough force to make the cushions bounce.
Vaerun regarded her for a moment.
"Do you believe avoiding a place simply because it hurt you is the right decision?" Seyra’s expression faltered; he continued, his voice measured.
"You are the next heir of House Veyrath. There will be places you dislike, people you distrust, and situations you would rather avoid. You cannot spend your life running away from every unpleasant memory."
Seyra lowered her gaze.
She remembered the imperial palace too well. The cold stares, the uncomfortable questions, the feeling of being small and unwanted in a place where everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged.
For a moment, the comedy slipped away, then Vaerun leaned forward slightly.
"If someone makes you feel small, you do not have to make yourself smaller to accommodate them."
Seyra looked up; his silver eyes had turned cold, the sort of cold that made seasoned commanders reconsider their life choices.
"You stand straight. You remember who you are, and you make certain they understand that House Veyrath is not a name they may insult without consequence."
He paused.
"Show people their place when they forget yours."
Seyra stared at him.
"...That’s a nice inspiration, Papa."
"I thought so."
"You sound like the final villain in a revenge drama."
Vaerun’s expression did not change. "I have no idea what that means."
She settled back against the cushion, still pouting, and studied him suspiciously. "Then why are we going to the Imperial Palace? And why are you taking me?"
"There has been a disturbance in the empire. The Malik has summoned the nobles to the palace this evening."
Seyra’s expression sharpened. "So you dragged me into a carriage, dressed me like a tiny noblewoman, and brought me toward the most emotionally unpleasant building in the empire without explaining anything?"
Vaerun considered her summary. "I was informed that several noble children will be attending."
Silence, and then she looked at him with deep suspicion.
"What does that have to do with me?"
Vaerun met her gaze.
"I want you to make friends."
. . .
. . .
The carriage went silent.
Outside, the wheels rolled over the sandstone road. Bronze ornaments hanging from the carriage roof jingled softly, and the fading sunlight painted the interior gold.
Seyra stared at her father. Vaerun stared back.
Then—
CAWWWW! CAW! CAW!
. . .
. . .
The invisible crow had returned, apparently; it had unfinished business.
"I don’t need friend—"
"YOU ABSOLUTELY NEED FRIENDS."
Somewhere in the heavens, the gods were undoubtedly recording this historic moment. Vaerun drew a slow breath.
"Seyra, you need to learn how to interact with children your own age."
"I interact with children."
"Who?"
She hesitated.
"...Children I have met."
"Name one."
Seyra looked toward the window.
The sandstone buildings of the imperial city passed outside, their rooftops decorated with bronze suns and banners bearing the emblems of ancient noble houses.
"Ughh..."
"You spend most of your time with Mira, Renn, and me," he said. "You rarely leave the estate."
Seyra folded her arms and looked away.
"I’m happy at home. I have you, Mira, Renn, and the others. Why do I need anyone else?"
The question was quieter this time.
Vaerun watched her.
He understood that she was not simply being difficult. Since the incident at the imperial palace, Seyra had become more reluctant to let unfamiliar people near her. She laughed, played, and clung to him without hesitation, but whenever the possibility of new friendships arose, she retreated behind jokes and stubborn refusals.
He would not force her to trust anyone, but he also would not allow her to believe that the world consisted only of the people who already loved her.
Vaerun reached over and straightened the lapis sash at her waist.
"I want you to have people who will laugh with you, play with you, and stand beside you when I cannot."
Seyra’s fingers loosened around the cushion.
"I am your father; I will protect you for as long as I live, but I cannot be the only person you ever allow into your life." He looked directly into her violet eyes. "You are my only daughter, Seyra. My only family. I want you to have a life beyond this house, too."
For once, he had no command to give her and no threat to make.
"I hope you will listen to your father."
Seyra stared at him; her expression shifted from suspicion to disbelief, then to the unmistakable look of a child who had just discovered that her father possessed a secret weapon far more dangerous than his sword.
Emotional manipulation, the kind that involved a frighteningly handsome father looking at his daughter with sincere affection.
Utterly unfair.
She dragged both hands down her face.
"FINE!"
Vaerun waited.
"I WILL MAKE FRIENDS! LOTS OF FRIENDS! I WILL MAKE SO MANY FRIENDS THAT YOU WILL REGRET EVER ASKING ME!"
"An excellent plan."
"STOP BEING SO REASONABLE!"
Vaerun’s lips twitched, and Seyra leaned forward, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"FOR THE GODS’ SAKE, PAPA! STOP BEHAVING LIKE A POOR MAN WHO IS SUFFERING BECAUSE HIS DAUGHTER WON’T PLAY WITH OTHER CHILDREN! "
The carriage fell silent.
Outside, one of the guards abruptly turned his face away, the coachman coughed, and together, the Azram of House Veyrath and his deeply unreasonable daughter entered the Imperial Palace.
Neither of them noticed the imperial attendant waiting beneath the golden archway, whose expression changed the moment he saw the child in Vaerun’s arms.
The Malik had summoned the nobles for a reason, and tonight, Seyra Veyrath was about to discover that the imperial palace held far more than unpleasant memories.
It held people who remembered her, too, and...some old fresh scars will start healing today.
***
[Imperial Palace — Eshkaran Empire — Evening]
The carriage door opened, revealing the grand staircase of the Imperial Palace, its golden sandstone steps illuminated by rows of bronze oil lamps. Towering pillars carved with celestial beasts flanked the entrance, while crimson-and-gold banners bearing the imperial crest fluttered beneath the evening sky.
Captain Ishtar Khaelis stepped forward and offered her hand.
Seyra accepted it and carefully climbed down from the carriage. Vaerun followed immediately, his attention fixed on his daughter as he adjusted the lapis-blue sash at her waist.
"Careful. Do not fall again."
Seyra looked up at him. "Papa, you worry too much."
"You fall too often."
"That happened only once!"
"Once was enough."
Seyra huffed and turned toward the palace, and then she saw it. The towering gates, the familiar sandstone walls, and the golden balconies overlooking the courtyard.
Her smile disappeared. From the balcony above, she noticed someone watching them.
Malik Zayrakh Azrath stood beneath the gilded arches, dressed in imperial robes of crimson and black, gold ornaments catching the light against the dark fabric. His amber eyes were fixed on the little girl beside Vaerun.
Seyra looked up; their gazes met, and for a moment, the noise of the courtyard seemed to fade.
Zayrakh’s expression remained composed, but guilt lingered in his eyes, a rare crack in the carefully maintained mask of the Malik.
Seyra looked back at him with cold, wounded eyes. She remembered and so did he, then Seyra abruptly turned her head, slipping her small hand into Vaerun’s.
"Papa," she murmured, tightening her grip, "don’t leave me alone for too long."
Vaerun’s gaze shifted toward the balcony.
He met Malik’s eyes for a brief, silent moment before looking down at his daughter. His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"I will return as soon as I can. Until then, behave yourself...and do not act like an old woman."
Seyra groaned.
"Fine..."
Vaerun turned toward Captain Ishtar, and the warmth vanished from his expression. "Nothing must happen to her this time. I will not forgive another failure."
Ishtar immediately bowed her head.
"Yes, Azram."
Vaerun gave Seyra’s hand one final squeeze before releasing it.
Above them, Malik Zayrakh remained beneath the golden arches, watching as Vaerun turned toward the palace entrance.
Seyra did not look back at him and in a very long while, the Malik found himself standing before someone who would not even grant him another glance.