Arrival to the palace

The carriage slowed as the towering gates of Yakthung Palace opened, sunlight glinting off their silver edges. Irina pushed aside the curtain and straightened her posture, ignoring the faint chill left behind from the strange dream that had jolted her awake earlier—a wedding hall and a faceless groom who felt unbearably distant.

She exhaled.

A dream is just a dream.

“Princess Irina of Sammang has arrived!” the herald called.

When the carriage door swung open, a senior butler approached with a deep bow. His posture was dignified, but his eyes warm.

“Princess, welcome to Yakthung,” he said with refined politeness. “His Highness, Crown Prince Carlos, sends his sincere apologies for not welcoming you in person.”

But before she could speak, the butler continued.

“His Highness has ordered me to escort you to the Empress’s chambers. He wishes for you to rest after your long journey.”

Irina paused for a heartbeat.

He wasn’t coming to greet her?

Well… why would he?

This was a political marriage.

They didn’t know each other.

He probably had little interest in playing the role of an eager groom.

But

The Empress’s chambers?

That was the most sacred part of the palace—the heart of Yakthung’s royal quarters. Offering it to her on the very first day ???

She tried to read the butler’s expression, but he remained calm, professional.

She too remained calm as she nodded. “I see. Then I’ll follow you.”

The butler led her through tall corridors lined with portraits of past rulers. Servants bowed as she passed, whispering softly after she moved out of sight. Irina kept her steps measured, composed, refusing to let uncertainty show.

She stepped inside slowly, her voice softer than before. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

The butler bowed. “If you require anything, please ring the bell on the table. I will have maids stationed nearby at all times.”

When he left, quiet filled the chamber.

But the Empress’s chambers surprised her.

Sunlit, serene, fragrant with fresh lilies—far grander and more honored than anything she’d expected for a foreign bride.

She touched the embroidered curtain, thoughtful.

If he didn’t care at all… would he place me here?

Perhaps Crown Prince Carlos simply preferred distance.

Perhaps he disliked showing emotions, even basic courtesy, in public.

Some princes were like that, she’d heard.

Irina set her travel cloak over a chair and wandered deeper into the room. The silk sheets were freshly pressed, the air lightly perfumed, and a tray of warm tea waited on the table—still steaming.

She paused by the mirror and caught her reflection—tired eyes, hair loosened from the long ride, but posture straight and composed.

Irina let out a small breath.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself. “I’ll meet him then.”

Whoever Crown Prince Carlos truly was…

She would judge with her own eyes.

Irina sank onto the cushioned seat by the window. Sunlight, soft and golden, wrapped around her like a warm embrace. For the first time since the journey started, she finally allowed herself to breathe.

The dream faded into the background.

The palace felt calm.

Irina closed her eyes, letting the peace of the Empress’s chambers settle around her, as the sun dipped slowly toward dusk.

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