Yet another unworthy one.
Amida sat in a luxurious restaurant in Nkap, her chin resting lightly on her hand as she stared at the man seated across from her—a burly, well-groomed noble with an expensive scent and clothes dripping in gold. He was rambling loudly about his "grand adventures" across Nubia, boasting of being the son of a powerful merchant from Gold Land entrusted with carrying goods across the continent.
Amida pretended to listen, offering polite nods to keep appearances.
Inside, she was unmoved.
It was always the same. Another noble, another liar, another man full of empty stories and hidden intentions, another one pretending interest only because of who her mother was.
She suppressed a sigh.
She was exhausted—tired of the politics swirling around her, tired of the expectations tied to her birth, tired of playing a role she never asked for. These dates were not for pleasure; they were obligations, performances forced upon her by her status.
In her heart, she always believed Rose was better suited for this life. Rose could navigate dishonesty, strategy, and manipulation when needed. Amida couldn't. She wasn't built for it. She didn't have the heart to deceive or scheme or hide daggers behind her smile.
But she had been born to Cynthia Sichom, and that alone sealed her fate.
That alone forced her into the nightmare they called upbringing.
People whispered that she was frivolous—always out on dates with nobles from Nkap.
But none of them understood.
These outings were her escape.
Her breath of air in a suffocating palace.
A temporary illusion where she could pretend to be an ordinary girl and forget the chaos brewing behind the castle walls. She dreamed that one day she might meet a real prince, someone capable of taking her away from all of this. Someone who would let her rest.
But here she was again—facing yet another unworthy man. Another man who came not for her, but for what she represented. Another man trying to use her.
Her hope was fading.
Until the image of him resurfaced in her mind—the unbothered, mysterious young man she had seen yesterday.
The one with the disciplined build, sharp eyes, and quiet, overwhelming aura.
Teleu.
Amida knew how to recognize a great man. Her mother taught her that much, at least.
And she could feel it in him. A strength that was not loud, not boastful, not fake. A strength of someone who had truly seen the world—and survived it.
He wasn't merely handsome.
He felt solid.
He felt real.
For the first time in a very long while, she sensed someone who could actually help her—someone who might bring her peace, someone capable of taking the weight off her shoulders, someone who could protect her from all the shadows closing in.
That was the kind of man she wanted.
And she would have him.
___________________
The morning sun rose gently and bright over the Golden Palace.
Light spilled across tiled roofs the color of burnished dawn, slid between marble columns, and washed over Reloua's private garden—an oasis of sculpted harmony tucked behind the eastern wing of her small palace.
The garden was a masterpiece: trees bent into graceful arcs, flowering shrubs arranged like splashes of paint on a living canvas, and a pond where orange-and-white fish glided beneath floating petals. At the center stood a five-seat pavilion draped in soft shade, its carved pillars shaped like blossoming lotus stems. Dew shimmered on everything, catching the sun like tiny crystals.
Reloua sat at the round table beneath the pavilion, Gyan beside her—still pale from his ordeal from before but visibly steadier. Plates of warm sweetbread, steamed fruits, and herbal tea lay untouched as they enjoyed the quiet.
Teleu stood behind them, silent as a shadow. He blended into the garden as though he belonged in its stillness.
Reloua couldn't explain why, but she felt safer just knowing he was there.
Surely because I saw him in action.
Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path interrupting her thought process .
Teleu moved instantly, stepping forward with quiet precision, blocking the entrance of the pavilion. His expression didn't change—but his posture made his opinion clear:
no one enters without approval.
A familiar voice spoke, delicate and almost musical.
"Move aside… please."
Reloua looked up.
Amida Sichom, her younger stepsister, stood with a hesitant smile. Her silk dress shimmered gold and ivory in the morning light, her hair loosely braided with fine beads. She held her hands in front of her like someone approaching a fragile dream.
"Let her through," Reloua said gently.
Teleu hesitated only a heartbeat before stepping back.
As Amida passed him, she tried to hide the way her eyes lingered a moment too long on his face—drawn by the same mysterious aura that had captivated her at the royal hall. He felt different from the men she usually admired. There was beauty, yes, but also depth… and darkness. Something she wanted to understand.
She sat gracefully at the pavilion, smoothing her dress.
"I wanted to apologize," she began softly. "For what happened yesterday in the hall. I… only wished for Father's words to be respected. Not for you to be hurt again."
Reloua nodded slowly. "It was… difficult, but I know you didn't intend harm."
Amida exhaled, relieved. "I worried all night. You vanished for months, and when you came back—everything felt like it was breaking." Her eyes softened. "I am glad you are safe, Reloua."
Gyan nibbled his sweetbread quietly, watching them.
Amida's attention shifted to him. She leaned forward, her voice tender.
"And you, Gyan… how are you feeling? I was worried about you too."
"I'm fine," he murmured shyly.
She reached out and gently patted his hair, a sisterly gesture that made him relax despite himself.
Teleu observed the exchange from a step behind Reloua. His face remained unreadable, but inside, he watched Amida carefully—her eyes, her tone, her posture.
He saw a girl driven by emotion, but also by desire. That kind of person could be useful.
As the siblings talked, Amida's gaze drifted—again—toward Teleu.
"I have… never seen him before," she said softly. "Your guard. His accent… he's not from Gold Land, is he?"
Her tone was innocent, curious—but her eyes were searching deeper.
Reloua gave a small, diplomatic smile. "He is assigned to me. That is all you need to know."
Teleu remained silent but met Amida's gaze for a second. She inhaled—almost imperceptibly—as though the look itself pulled something out of her.
She wanted to know more.
He intended to give her only what benefited him.
To break the silence, Amida folded her hands elegantly.
"Reloua… in two months, the annual Military Ceremony begins. You know—the duels between the warriors of Gold Land. Father already raised the subject with the generals."
Her eyes sparkled with a carefully measured innocence.
"I wanted to ask if… perhaps… your guard could participate."
Reloua blinked. "Teleu?"
"Yes."
Her gaze flicked toward him again, warm and curious.
"He stands like someone who has seen battles. And the ceremony is important for our nation—and for your standing, sister. A champion under your name would… change many things."
Reloua sighed softly. "It's not a simple matter."
"Oh, I know," Amida nodded. "But it is a thought. And… I would love to see what he is capable of."
Teleu's jaw tightened ever so slightly.
She noticed.
She liked that she noticed.
The conversation wound on gently—soft, emotional, yet intimate in a subtle way. Reloua remained cautious. Amida remained intrigued. Teleu remained unreadable.
Later, the three left the garden for a long walk through the palace grounds—ostensibly to show Teleu around, but in truth to fill the gaps in Gyan's earlier maps.
Marble corridors. Long courtyards with fountains. Guard rotations at each intersection. Storage rooms, kitchens, meeting chambers, servant pathways.
Reloua and Gyan took the lead, explaining names and histories.
Teleu took the shadows, memorizing distances, exits, and blind spots.
As they circled back toward the main wing, Reloua touched his arm lightly.
"Teleu… about the ceremony… I want you to enter."
He looked at her.
"It would help me," she added quietly. "If you win, many elders will shift to my side."
He didn't like the idea of revealing too much about himself.
But he had promised to work for her and he wasn't one to go back on his words. Furthermore he could make use of her influence in the future.
"I will do it," he said. "If we distort the truth about me."
Reloua smiled. "Of course."
At Gyan's other side, the boy nodded vigorously. "He will win. He seems strong."
Teleu gave Gyan a faint, almost invisible smile.