The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"I will represent the crown," Elowen said at last, drawing herself up with undeniable majesty. She cast a brief, thoughtful look at Mikhailis, then returned her gaze to the map. "Mikhailis and I will attend the banquet."

Her final words hovered in the hush that followed, like an edict set into stone. In that moment, the hush of the chamber and the reverent colors flooding through the windows lent weight to her statement, making it feel almost historic. Mikhailis caught the slight flicker of relief—or was it regret?—in Estella's eyes, but in an instant, her face was composed again. No one argued the decision; it was clear that the queen had taken all angles into account.

Estella placed her hand delicately over her chest, posture impeccable. The subtle rustle of her garments was nearly lost beneath the quiet hum of the conversation-filled chamber. "Then I will represent the brand," she declared, her voice carrying a cool conviction that seemed to reverberate off the high-vaulted ceilings. Her gaze swept the table, taking in each face with a mix of determination and pride. If there was any doubt in her mind about her ability to helm this new venture, it did not show.

She turned to Rhea, a tall woman with warm brown eyes and a bearing that hinted at military discipline lurking beneath her poised exterior. Rhea gave a confident nod in response, though a faint tension lingered around her shoulders as though she were still growing accustomed to the ornate surroundings. The thick embroidered drapes of the estate's private rooms, the sparkling chandeliers overhead—everything exuded an aura of opulence that contrasted her more straightforward style.

"And I'll have two Silvarion court ladies assist," Estella continued, her words thoughtful yet decisive. "They'll act as ambassadors."

At this, Rhea's gaze flicked briefly to Mikhailis, almost as if asking for a silent second opinion. He responded with a subtle inclination of his head. He trusted Estella's instincts; her razor-sharp mind had navigated countless political nuances before, albeit usually in realms far less glamorous than cosmetics. This new path felt fresh and exhilarating, but Mikhailis had no doubts that Estella would orchestrate the showcase elegantly. She was, after all, adept at reading people's desires—even ones they didn't yet know they had.

Elowen leaned back in her seat, the ornately carved wooden chair supporting her with regal grace. She wore a faint, contemplative smile as she regarded Estella, her golden eyes reflecting the daylight streaming through the grand windows. "They will not merely sell blush," she said, tone tinged with both caution and encouragement. "They will carry the dignity of this kingdom's future economy."

For a beat, no one spoke. The weight of Elowen's words rested on the air, underscoring the significance of this venture. In that moment, Mikhailis felt a flicker of pride stir in his chest. What had begun as a whimsical creative project—a little side experiment with Rodion's help—was now blossoming into something that could influence trade routes, alliances, and cultural exchanges. For a kingdom built on alchemical prowess and magical synergy, an innovative cosmetic line could be the unexpected key to forging new diplomatic ties—or further solidifying existing ones.

Estella, evidently sharing some part of that same realization, offered a deep bow. "And they will look damn good doing it."

Her assurance drew a faint smile from Elowen and a soft exhale from Mikhailis, who could feel the tension in the room melting into a united sense of purpose. Indeed, this was more than just vanity or commerce; it was an opportunity to push the boundaries of arcane artistry. From the corner of his eye, Mikhailis caught a glimpse of Rodion's faint spectral glow, as though the AI presence were silently approving of the momentum they had gathered.

Across the room, an impromptu flurry of activity was already underway. Rhea was standing before a tall, silver-framed mirror that leaned against the far wall—one that had been brought in specifically for the purpose of final fittings and cosmetic demonstrations. The mirrored surface caught and refracted the golden sunlight pouring in from the windows, causing the entire reflection to shimmer.

Rhea herself wore a trial gown that, at first glance, seemed a step outside her comfort zone. It was a soft violet shimmer piece, embroidered with delicate silver vine accents that curled around her waist and across her shoulders. Every subtle movement caused the threads to catch the light, giving the illusion of living vines shimmering under moonlight. Though the design was captivating, it was clear from Rhea's rigid posture that she felt somewhat awkward in such finery. Her posture was nearly at attention—like a guard standing for inspection.

Rodion's ever-present, sardonic voice hummed through Mikhailis's consciousness:

<Here's your 30% glow boost. Adjust chin tilt five degrees for maximum effect.>

Rhea rolled her eyes, snapping her gaze toward Mikhailis—who couldn't help but suppress a grin. "Tell your ghost to stop staring at my cheekbones," she muttered, her cheeks tinting the faintest pink, whether from mild embarrassment or latent annoyance.

Mikhailis chuckled softly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I'll let him know," he said, though they both understood Rodion only played at having personal boundaries. For all his intangible nature, the AI was startlingly persistent in performing tweaks and analyses. If Mikhailis had programmed him differently, perhaps he'd be less invasive—but then again, Mikhailis had grown oddly fond of Rodion's brash efficiency.

Meanwhile, the excitement in the room rose like a warm tide. Pages bustled in and out with bolts of richly dyed fabric, trays of shimmering eyeshadows, and small jars of colorless liquid that turned opalescent when stirred. Soft discussions rippled across the space—voices speculating on crowd engagement, marketing strategies, and the best ways to demonstrate the spells woven into each cosmetic item.

Estella and Elowen, two forces that once threatened to clash like thunder and lightning, now meshed with surprising harmony. Elowen's regal finesse guided them towards an approach that balanced the crown's dignity with playful enthusiasm; Estella's knack for strategy and flair infused the project with showmanship. It occurred to Mikhailis, as he stood there observing the swirl of preparations, that he didn't feel like an intermediary caught in the crossfire of their personalities. Instead, he felt like a contributor to a grand tapestry in which every thread had a place.

The discussions continued, forging detailed plans for the Festival Market Showcase. Courtiers wanted to discuss pricing structures, distribution routes, and how to discreetly lure more affluent visitors to the stall early on—the better to generate buzz. Mikhailis interjected with suggestions on booth layout, aware that foot traffic and product demonstration needed to be carefully choreographed. Rodion, in one of his more helpful moods, mapped out possible vantage points for maximum visibility. By the time the meeting concluded, the atmosphere crackled with ambition and anticipation.

Later, as everyone began to drift away to fulfill their assigned roles, Mikhailis found himself following Elowen to a private balcony overlooking the estate's extensive gardens. A hush fell between them, comfortable yet charged with the remnants of the earlier excitement. The day was quietly succumbing to twilight, rays of gold and pink lighting the horizon, while the greenery below rustled gently in a welcoming evening breeze.

Elowen paused at the stone railing, placing a folded linen cloth on it and gingerly dabbing a bit of the sample blush onto the fabric. Then, with a steady, graceful motion, she touched the cloth to her cheek, blending the color until it seemed to merge seamlessly with her skin. Even in the dwindling light, the subtle shimmer enhanced her already luminous features. Mikhailis watched her, feeling a stirring of fondness. There was something enchanting about seeing the queen—a woman so often burdened by duty—revel in a private moment of curiosity.

"You've been hiding talents from me," she murmured as she turned to face him, her voice low but carrying an undercurrent of playful reproach.

Mikhailis shrugged, shifting his weight against the balcony railing. From this vantage point, the estate gardens extended in a lush tapestry of trimmed hedges, winding paths, and softly glowing lanterns that awaited nightfall to reveal their true charm. "It was just a project," he said, though even he could hear how flimsy that sounded now. Too many people had recognized the significance of what he and Estella had created for him to downplay it.

Elowen's expression grew more reflective, a pensive tranquility settling over her. "Your projects are starting to shape nations," she reminded him. Her voice carried neither accusation nor hyperbole—just simple, straightforward truth. She seemed to weigh this reality for a moment before stepping closer, until she stood close enough for him to catch the faint citrus-herb scent of the blush lingering on her skin.

She lifted her hand, fingers brushing softly against his temple, the touch light as a breeze. "You scare me sometimes," she admitted, "but in the way stars do. Beautiful. Distant. Burning." Mikhailis felt his breath catch for an instant as her gaze locked onto his with unwavering intensity. Though her words could be interpreted as a critique, the warmth in her voice held no malice. It was more of an awed confession, a testament to how powerful—and how alien—Mikhailis's intellect and projects could sometimes seem.

In response, he found his lips curving into a faint smile, a flash of genuine tenderness crossing his features. This woman, who could shift the balance of nations with a single decree, was explaining her fear and admiration in the same breath. "And you ground me," he said softly, his voice dipping. "Like gravity in silk."

His heart pounded in his chest as the confession settled in the warm night air. A stray wind teased the edges of Elowen's hair, lifting stray strands and making them dance around her face. She was silent for a moment, studying him with those penetrating golden eyes, as though uncertain how to respond to something so honest. In that silence, Mikhailis felt his own world tilt just slightly on its axis, a small shift that resonated in the space between them.

<Disgusting. Please continue.>

Rodion's mental interjection cut through the moment with disarming bluntness. Mikhailis almost chuckled. Even now, the AI remained irreverent, always eager to break tension with a roll of digital eyes. Elowen caught the subtle change in his expression, her own mouth twitching at the corners in a near-smile. Rodion's brand of deadpan commentary had become something of a shared inside joke.

But the moment's warmth wasn't lost. They didn't speak more because they didn't need to. Instead, they allowed the hush of dusk to settle over them, a gentle hush broken only by the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves. Mikhailis reached up, covering Elowen's hand with his own. For a heartbeat, time felt suspended—caught between the grandeur of the estate behind them and the inexorable approach of night.

High above, the sky stretched into a twilight canvas of purples, oranges, and blues that bled together in a breathtaking gradient. As Elowen turned back to gaze at the horizon, the last light of the sun dipped below the edge of the gardens, signaling that night was truly on its way. Yet the heavens refused to grow completely dark. Instead, a host of stars began to emerge, each one winking into existence with a near-celebratory glimmer. Perhaps it was the echoes of the day's excitement fueling his imagination, but Mikhailis found them unusually bright.

And the stars above, despite the coming dusk, seemed to glow just a little warmer.