Chapter 58: Dawn’s Asking a Favor

"I visited because I want to see Lady Eiravelle up close—" Dawn tried to explain, but Eiravelle smiled and looked at Dawn directly.

"No, your Highness, it’s just the two of us. You can tell me your judgment."

That was what Eiravelle was waiting for, and it made Dawn almost drop her jaw in confusion, but then she shook her head. The words were caught in her throat, and for a moment, she did not know how to respond.

She had not expected Eiravelle to be so direct and unflinching. The omega was tired, clearly exhausted from everything she had endured, and yet there was a sharpness in her gaze that Dawn had not anticipated.

Eiravelle was not going to let her hide behind pleasantries, and she was not going to allow Dawn to dance around whatever truth she had come here to speak.

Dawn felt the weight of that gaze pressing against her, and for a moment, she almost wished she had not come at all. Almost. But she had spent too many nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling of her chambers while she ran through this conversation in her head until the words had blurred together into meaninglessness.

She could not turn back now, not when she had finally found the courage to come here, and not when she had already come this far.

The room was quiet, the only sound was being the soft hum and the distant chirping of birds outside the window. The afternoon light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the floor.

It was peaceful, almost serene, and yet the tension between the two women was palpable. Dawn could feel it in the way Eiravelle held herself, in the way her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket draped over her shoulders, and in the way her gaze never wavered from Dawn’s face.

"Lady Eiravelle, please let me explain. I did not come here to mock you or judge you," Dawn said, her voice was steadier than she felt.

"Then why are you here, Your Highness?" Eiravelle asked.

The question was simple, direct, and it landed between them like a stone dropped into still water. Dawn could feel the ripples of it spreading outward, disturbing the careful calm she had tried to maintain.

She had known this question would come, and she had prepared for it. But preparation and reality were two very different things, and now that she was here, facing Eiravelle’s tired but unyielding gaze, all her careful preparations felt inadequate.

"I am here because... I want to ask you something..." Dawn answered.

The words came out hesitantly, stumbling over themselves in a way that made Dawn wince internally. She was a princess, and she had been trained since childhood to speak with confidence, to project authority even when she felt none.

But here, in this small room with this exhausted omega who had every reason to distrust her, all that training seemed to evaporate.

Eiravelle paused, then waited for the next words. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things. Dawn could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, and she could feel the weight of what she was about to say down on her chest.

She had rehearsed this moment a hundred times, and she had imagined how it would go, but now that she was here, now that Eiravelle was looking at her with those tired, guarded eyes, the words felt impossible.

She thought of everything that had led her to this moment. She thought of the years she had spent in the palace, smiling when she wanted to scream and nodding when she wanted to run.

She thought of the engagement that had been forced upon her, the marriage that loomed on the horizon like a storm she could not escape. She thought of the person she loved, the one she could not have, the one who was forbidden to her by law, custom, and the cruel expectations of royalty.

She thought of the life she had been forced into, the future that had been decided for her before she was even born, and she felt the familiar ache of resentment settle in her chest.

"I was just wondering... Do you harbor feelings for the sovereign?" Dawn asked. She was trying to soften it, but it didn’t work.

The question hung in the air like a stone thrown into water, and Eiravelle’s expression flickered, with something raw and vulnerable passing through her eyes before she looked away.

For a moment, Dawn thought she had gone too far, that she had pushed too hard, and that Eiravelle would shut down completely and refuse to speak any further. But then Eiravelle sighed heavily, her shoulders are sagging as if the weight of the question had physically pressed down on her.

She had not expected this. She had expected judgment. She had expected the princess to look at her like she was a curiosity, a thing to be studied and discarded.

She had not expected this question, this probing into the most complicated part of her heart. Eiravelle had spent weeks trying to untangle her feelings for Qazaethel, trying to understand what she felt and what she was supposed to feel. She had failed.

The feelings were too tangled, too knotted, and too wrapped up in everything that had happened, including the child, the captivity, and the desperate choices she had been forced to make.

"It’s complicated, Your Highness. And I am well aware that everything in this harem is a competition, so I don’t want to treat it that way." Her voice was firm and formal, carefully controlled, and Dawn knew that she was still far away emotionally. She was guarding herself and keeping Dawn at arm’s length, and Dawn could not blame her for it.

Eiravelle’s answer was careful, measured, the kind of answer that gave nothing away while pretending to give everything. She had learned, in her short time at the palace, that words were weapons and silence was armor.

She did not know Dawn, and she did not know what the princess wanted or why she was really here. She was not going to bare her heart to a stranger, no matter how kind that stranger seemed.

Dawn nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in Eiravelle’s words. The harem was a competition. Everyone knew it, even if no one said it aloud. Omegas vied for the sovereign’s attention, for favor, and for power.

They smiled and flattered and schemed, and behind closed doors, they sharpened their claws on each other. Dawn had seen it all before, and she had watched from the sidelines as omegas tore each other apart for a chance at the throne. She had never wanted any part of it, and yet here she was, tangled in the same web despite her best efforts to stay away.

"You’re right... But... I am asking because... It is clear to me that the sovereign harbors feelings for you too, and I am not here to compete for her. I am here thinking that maybe, you can steal her away from me." Dawn said.

Eiravelle gasped, her eyes are widening. "What exactly do you mean by that, Your Highness?!"

The shock in Eiravelle’s voice was genuine, and Dawn felt a pang of guilt for springing this on her so suddenly. But she had come too far to back down now.

She had spent weeks agonizing over this decision, and she had weighed the risks and the consequences a hundred times. She could not stop now. She had to see this through.

"I never wanted to be the future empress of Solkanaia. But within a month, me and Qazaethel will get married. I never liked her... And I have fallen for someone else, which can be a crime if I love that person outside my marriage." Dawn explained.

The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them, raw and honest in a way that she had not allowed herself to be in years.

She had kept this secret close to her chest, and she had hidden it behind smiles and pleasantries and the careful mask of a princess who knew her duty. But now, standing in front of Eiravelle, she felt the mask slipping, and she felt the weight of her secret pressing against her ribs, demanding to be released.

She thought of the life she had been forced into, the marriage she did not want, and the future that had been decided for her before she was even born. And she thought of Eiravelle, the omega who had somehow captured the sovereign’s heart without even trying, and she felt a strange mix of envy and hope.

She gently reached out for Eiravelle’s hand. Her fingers were trembling, and she did not know if it was from fear or hope or something in between. "Lady Eiravelle, if you will do me a favor... Will you steal the sovereign?"

Eiravelle shook her head, pulling her hand back. "I never wanted to steal the sovereign, Your Highness. This is wrong. I don’t even know if I still harbor feelings for his son, Kariv—"

She was gently cut off by Dawn, who leaned forward with an intensity that made Eiravelle’s breath catch. "She loves you. I see it in her eyes. And I am sure she never wanted anyone but you."

Dawn breathed heavily, her voice was dropping to a whisper. "The harem is harsh, but I assure you that you have my full support. Whatever you ask me, if it’s within my power, I shall grant it."

Eiravelle’s breath hitched. She did not know what to say, and she did not know how to process what she was hearing. The princess of Ashrein, the future Phoenix empress, was asking her, a new concubine and a nobody from the Arthion household, to steal the sovereign’s heart.

It was absurd. It was impossible. And yet, there was something in Dawn’s eyes that made Eiravelle believe she was serious.

"Your Highness. I don’t know why you are so desperate, but I get it... I get your emotions. But I am new here. I haven’t adjusted yet." Eiravelle answered, her voice was softer now and less guarded.

She was thinking of Kariv, of the feelings she had once harbored for him, the feelings that had led her to ask Qazaethel’s blessings to marry him instead.

She was thinking of the child she carried, the child that had changed everything, and the child that had forced her to make choices she never wanted to make. She was thinking of Qazaethel, of the sovereign’s eyes, and of the way Qazaethel looked at her sometimes like she was something precious, something worth protecting.

Eiravelle did not know what she felt anymore. She did not know if she was capable of the kind of love Dawn was asking her to pursue.

Dawn nodded, and there was understanding in her eyes, a deep, bone-weary understanding that spoke of years of struggle and loneliness. "Take your time. And I know, you’re the only omega I can trust within this harem. Everyone was cunning. They’re all after the Phoenix throne. I do not mind that, but the sovereign will surely won’t allow them to even sit on it." Dawn explained and sighed.

She paused, her gaze drifted to the window as if she could see something beyond, something that only she could perceive. "Take your time, Lady Eiravelle. We still got plenty of opportunities." Dawn added.

Eiravelle nodded. She was trying to process what she just found out, but it was a bit hard. The information sat heavy in her chest, tangled with her own complicated feelings about Qazaethel, about Kariv, and about the child she carried.

She did not know what she felt anymore. She did not know if she was capable of the kind of love Dawn was asking her to pursue.

But then Dawn reached into her bag and took out a gift, a beautifully bound book of poetry. The cover was soft leather, embossed with golden lettering, and it smelled faintly of ink and old paper. It was the kind of book that had been cared for and cherished.

"This book came from the eastern poets. I hope you will like it." Dawn said, holding it out.

Eiravelle slowly accepted it, her fingers are tracing the embossed letters on the cover. She opened it to the first page, where a poem was written in elegant script, and she read the first few lines.

They spoke of hope, of resilience, and finding light in the darkest of places. They spoke of a heart that refused to break, no matter how many times it was wounded.

They spoke of love, not the easy kind, but the kind that endured, the kind that fought, and the kind that refused to let go.

She looked up at Dawn, and for the first time since the princess arrived, she smiled. It was a small smile, tentative and fragile, but it was genuine. It was the kind of smile that came from being seen, from being understood, and from finding a kindred spirit in the most unexpected of places.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Eiravelle said.

Dawn smiled back, and there was something in her expression that looked almost like relief. She had done what she came to do. She had planted a seed, and now she could only hope that it would grow. She stood up, smoothing the front of her dress, and prepared to take her leave.

"I should go. You need your rest." Dawn said.

Eiravelle nodded, though she found herself reluctant to see the princess go. There was something about Dawn that made her feel less alone and less afraid. She did not know if she could trust her, and she did not know if she could trust anyone, but for the first time since she arrived at the palace, she felt like she had an ally.

"Will you visit again?" Eiravelle asked, and the question came out before she could stop it.

Dawn’s face lit up with a smile so bright that it seemed to warm the entire room. "I would like that very much. If you’ll have me, I’ll come every day."

Eiravelle laughed softly, a sound that surprised even her. "Not every day. I need time to rest, Your Highness."

"Then every other day. Or whenever you ask for me. I’m not picky." Dawn replied, and there was a playful note in her voice that had not been there before.

Eiravelle shook her head, but she was still smiling. She walked Dawn to the door, her steps were slow and a little unsteady, but steadier than they had been before. She opened the door to find Saye and the other servants waiting outside, their expressions were a mixture of curiosity and relief.

Dawn turned to face Eiravelle one last time. "Take care of yourself, Lady Eiravelle. And remember—you are not alone."

Eiravelle nodded, and she watched as Dawn descended the stairs, her servants are falling into step behind her. The princess climbed into her carriage, the coachman urged the horses forward, and Eiravelle stood in the doorway watching until the carriage disappeared from sight.

When she finally closed the door, she leaned against it, her eyes are closed and her heart was full. The book of poetry was still clutched to her chest, and she could feel its warmth against her skin.

She did not know what the future held. She did not know if she could trust Dawn, or if the princess’s offer was genuine. But she knew one thing with absolute certainty: for the first time since she arrived at the palace, she did not feel completely alone.

She walked back to her bed and sat down, opening the book of poetry once more. She read a few more lines, letting the words wash over her, and felt something loosen in her chest.

It was not hope, not exactly. It was something smaller, quieter, a tiny spark in the darkness. But it was there, and for now, that was enough.

That was the start of their blooming friendship.