---
It was over three hours into the ball, and people were finding it hard to keep their bearings as wine flowed endlessly.
Mahalia was sober, though—she made it a point to stay away from such things due to her peculiar situation, and also because she was still speaking with delegates from other nations. They hadn't left since the impromptu global coalition meeting earlier.
"Where is His Majesty?" a delegate from Kusuk asked.
Mahalia looked around. When it seemed like Awin was nowhere to be found, she answered, "He's probably resting in his office. He'll come back once he's recovered—the atmosphere tends to get to him at times."
The Kusuk delegate nodded and walked away. Mahalia tried her best not to smirk. She was thankful he had left; she didn't need one of Awin's loyalists here for the conversation she was about to start.
"King Awin is a rather peculiar man," the delegate from Arayle noted, breaking Mahalia from her thoughts.
She smiled at the older woman. "It appears that way. The king has a rather peculiar way of ruling."
They nodded. The tension suddenly thickened—they all seemed to be thinking the same thing: Awin was inept. No one expected him to be a sage king, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he was not the leader he ought to be.
"There's something I've been wanting to discuss with all of you, though I anticipated it would happen under formal arrangements."
They all straightened, eager to hear what the Queen of Easteford had to say.
"We'd like to strengthen our diplomatic relations with all of you; we'd like to join the Northern Continent Coalition."
"Is that the intention of the king?" one delegate asked, rightfully skeptical.
Mahalia gave a sly smile. "It's the intention of the throne."
They were quiet again. Somehow, they seemed to understand what she meant. She hadn't confirmed that Awin wanted this—but that the throne did. It seemed a great revolution might soon happen.
"I take it you want us to back you should you go on with your plans. You want us to say you're not guilty of treason," said the delegate from Arayle. Everyone knew she was straightforward, never minced words, and was extremely brutal in her honesty.
"I assure you, it will not get to that. I'm not asking you to do anything against our core principles. When the time comes, you will understand what I mean."
The woman nodded thoughtfully. "You are a strong woman. I do not have a problem with your plans. King Awin's involvement with Kusuk and the slave trade has always irked me. I also think it's about time he's put in his place. I especially empathize with you, knowing the circumstances surrounding your marriage."
She paused when she saw Mahalia flinch.
"I'll be cheering you on. I'll discuss this with the leadership of my people. I assume the other delegates will be doing the same." She turned to look at them, and they nodded.
Mahalia smiled and gave a small, respectful bow. "Now, I shall leave you be."
She walked giddily toward Jaslin, Rivan, and Milton, who had just joined the function.
"How did it go?" Milton asked.
"I'd say—successful."
They all smiled, then Mahalia looked around. "Where's Zachary?"
---
Eileen's Room
"Oww."
Zachary groaned as he was clumsily heaved onto the bed. He let out a puff of air as his back landed—violently yet softly—on the mattress.
Eileen cursed under her breath as she stretched out and muttered something about the lengths she was going to in order to become queen.
She took one look at the inebriated Zachary, a bit spiteful. Never in her life had she had to resort to these methods, and it wounded her pride. Men usually saw her and began pining instantly. That he didn't care for her cut deep. Now she knew why—but that didn't irritate her any less.
"Your Highness?" she said in a singsong voice, gently touching his face. She was now in her nightdress, having discarded any sense of the societal propriety expected between unmarried youths.
Zachary incoherently mumbled something and opened his eyes. "Mahalia?" His voice was small and curious.
Eileen rolled her eyes. This man really knew how to wound her ego.
"Yes, it's me." She inched closer, cupping his cheek.
"Oh, then no."
"What?" Eileen was flabbergasted. "Why?"
He sheepishly shook his head and turned away from her, shyly. "I want to remember."
At first, she didn't understand. But when she did, she had a tinge of admiration—still, she was going to do her job. "You really are a gentleman, Your Highness. But don't worry—even if you forget, I'll just create another memory."
Zachary shook his head again and mumbled another string of incoherent words that ended with, "Zach."
"What did you say?"
"Call me Zach. I liked it when you did it earlier."
"I will," she whispered, inching closer—only to be stopped in her tracks.
"Eileen?"
Zachary suddenly seemed somewhat sober. He blinked to confirm—and it was Eileen.
As if he had just touched hot sewage, Zachary recoiled from her in disgust and anger.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Wha–? How is that even possible? The drug's not supposed to wear off for another two hours!"
"Why did you bring me here?" He was now on his feet, staggering toward the door.
"What do you think? I was trying to guarantee my being queen."
Zachary scoffed, as though he'd just heard someone claim they were going to steal the sun. "A woman who connives to get men in her bed is not worthy of being my queen."
Eileen rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare try to make it about me not being virtuous enough—when you're the same yourself."
"Excuse me?"
Feigning innocence? You can't deceive me. I know that you're in love with Mahalia, who is married. So how different are we, when you think about it?"
Zachary felt like someone had punched him in the gut with air after suffocating him—it brought both relief and tremendous pain. He loved Mahalia? That was ludicrous… right?
Yes, maybe he had tremendous respect for her, but it was because she was a capable woman. And those times when he had no appetite and couldn't sleep after hearing she was sick—well, that was just worry for a friend, in a non-romantic capacity… wasn't it?
He may have felt a bit sorrowful about her marriage to Awin, but that was because of Awin. And the reason why she was the first person he thought about before everyone else, why he yearned for her during his trip back home, why—when he was seasick—she was the one he wanted to see upon arriving in Easteford… was because…
…he was in love with her.
He didn't know why, or how, or even when—but as Eileen spoke, he couldn't deny it. Not to himself, at least. But he would have to deny it to the world. As Eileen had rightly said, Mahalia was married. It didn't matter that she hated her husband and had been forced into the marriage; he would never do anything to tarnish her public image.
"You can't deny it!" Eileen spat triumphantly.
Zachary scoffed again. She really was pathetic.
"I was going to overlook it and tell you much later, giving you respect as the daughter of the Grand Duke. But you've crossed the line."
Eileen raised her eyebrows.
"Your lover, Colin, has been imprisoned for high treason—for trying to kill my sister, the First Princess."
Eileen gasped. That idiot couldn't wait a few moments—he's ruined all our plans.
"What does that have to do with me?"
Zachary smiled—his head now feeling much clearer. "Did you not hear me call you his lover? There is evidence of your involvement with him. And now you've tried to take advantage of the Crown Prince and heir to the throne. How do you think you will fare?"
Her knees went weak, and she sank to the ground. Without sparing her another glance, he coldly told her, "Pack your things. You will be sent back home to await judgment."
---
Two Days Later
The last of the foreign delegates had left the country as Easteford took on a festive atmosphere—the much-awaited Abunumas was finally here.
Mahalia had her work cut out for her. She had spent almost every waking hour preparing for the festival when she wasn't plotting against Awin.
The Abunumas was a huge celebration in Easteford. It lasted an entire month, but the festivities reached their height during this particular week.
"Ah." Mahalia let out a sigh of relief as she sank lower into the hot springs she shared with her friends.
"You really need it—we all do," Jaslin chimed in. They were joined by Kafka, who simply lay there with her eyes closed.
They had decided to do this before joining the festivities with everyone else.
"Kafka, how's your new office treating you?" Mahalia turned to face her.
Kafka slowly opened her eyes. "It's not what I expected, but I can handle it—with your help, after all."
"Have you had time to read the book?" Kafka was referring to the manuscript her father had authored.
Mahalia stayed quiet. She hadn't read it yet. Considering the intensity with which she had searched for the book, one would think she'd have read it the moment it touched her hands. But every time she tried, an overwhelming nausea hit her, and she would shelve it in favor of easier tasks her mind could handle.
Sensing the unease, Jaslin changed the topic. "What's your plan for today's event?"
They looked at her, a little lost.
"What's that look for?" Jaslin asked, equally confused.
"Why are we supposed to have a plan?" Kafka asked.
"Because today is the fruit-sharing ceremony?" Jaslin prompted.
The fruit-sharing tradition was based on the core principle of Abunumas: abundance. In the early days, people would share their harvest, knowing they had so much it wouldn't affect them. Since others shared with them in return, no one would lack.
Over the years, the celebration evolved to include a formal ceremony in which people shared fruit—customarily between couples or those intending to be a couple.
Mahalia sighed, now understanding why Jaslin was asking. "You're asking what I plan to do about sharing a fruit with Awin?"
Kafka looked between them, baffled. "Is there anything you can do? It's mandatory for the first couple of the land to share a fruit to signal the beginning of the ceremony. The ceremony can't start without it."
"Exactly," Mahalia replied. But even as she said it, she loathed the thought of sharing anything with Awin. It made her skin crawl—not just because of who he was, but because of the significance of the ceremony itself.
Fruit-sharing symbolized oneness forever. To do that with Awin? Mahalia would have preferred doing it with a possum. She subconsciously winced, and Jaslin noticed.
"I have an idea—that's why I asked in the first place."
Mahalia turned sharply to her cousin. "And what is this idea?"
"Shift the fruit-sharing to the last item on the program—"
"All of a sudden? You know how much thought I've put into this. The celebration is literally today."
"Calm down, May. You're the queen—and basically the king—of Abunumas. You can do anything. If you schedule the singing, dancing, and a visit to the straw market first, you'll be away from the palace and close to the king. By the time the fruit-sharing comes up, nobody will care if you skip it—they'll probably be too drunk to notice. And the act will have lost its significance."
Mahalia thought it over. Jaslin really was a genius. Doing this would remove the need for any symbolic 'end' to the festival today, since the celebrations weren't meant to end tonight anyway.
"I'll do it," she said, stepping out of the spring. The others followed suit.
---
Later That Day – The Straw Market
"I can't believe the fruit-sharing was made the last event at such short notice," one merchant laughed to his group.
"You know what? I think it's a wise decision," another said. "Better to have it last—when you think about it, the ceremony takes too long and eats into the time for other festivities."
The others nodded in agreement.
"I'm just happy we're allowed to drink in the afternoon," one joked, and they all laughed.
Zachary, standing nearby, listened absently. He knew the real reason for the change—it was his and Jaslin's idea. At the time, he thought he was just being a considerate friend. But after his recent revelation, he wasn't so sure.
"But I can still be a friend, right? Not all my actions are driven by… corrupt intent?"
The giggle of a child broke his thoughts. "Uncle, why are you talking to yourself?"
Before Zachary could answer, the boy grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the procession.
"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't have the things for the procession."
The boy looked at him as if he'd just said something ridiculous. "That's true. Give me money—I'll get them for you."
Zachary let out a breath of amusement and handed over a few coins, waiting as the boy rushed to a nearby stall.
He glanced around, feeling as though someone's eyes were on him. He shook off the thought—this was a festival, after all.
The boy returned with a straw hat and a large basket filled with assorted fruits. Zachary accepted them with thanks, put on the hat, and followed the boy into the procession.
"Uncle, why didn't you bring anything?" the boy asked as they danced along—well, the boy danced; Zachary awkwardly walked.
"I didn't think I'd stay this long for the festival. I live on the Occident Coast, you see."
"So you're not from around here?" The boy's eyes lit up. "Then you probably don't know the legend about this procession."
Before Zachary could respond, the boy launched into an animated retelling of how farmers once shared their harvests, and how the straw hats honored them. Zachary listened politely, only realizing they'd reached the front of the procession when it was almost too late.
"Do you think we could slow down? We're too clo—"
He bumped into someone and quickly turned to apologize.
"Mahalia?" he breathed, shocked.
They both froze, while the procession continued on—oblivious, or perhaps unconcerned, that the queen was no longer in it.
Zachary cleared his throat. "My apologies, Your Highness."
"Zachary? I didn't expect you to be here… in the procession."
He raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"You seemed like you just wanted to get something and leave," she explained.
Zachary stayed quiet, expression unreadable. Had that lingering gaze he'd felt earlier… been hers? He pushed the thought away.
"You were watching me?"
Mahalia's face flushed, but she quickly recovered. "Why not? It was amusing—how you seemed so naïve with that young boy. I found it hard to keep my composure, you know."
"I'm flattered to have been amusing to you," he said flatly.
"I'm sorry if I offended you, I was just—"
"As you correctly noted, I had no intention of joining the festivities. I only wanted to humor the boy. I'll take my leave now."
Mahalia scoffed, her tone turning sour. "I'm sorry—I must have kept you from your guest. My regards to Eileen."
Zachary stopped. "Eileen has been sent home to the Occident Coast. And she was not my guest, per se—she was thrust upon me, that's all."
"Oh," Mahalia said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Now that I've clarified… I'll take my leave."
She watched his retreating figure. It was unsettling how cold he had suddenly become toward her—but at least she was glad Eileen was no longer in the picture.
What? She was glad? Why?
---
To be continued