The court dissolved with a sweep of the king's hand, his fingers cutting the air with the same authority he wielded in his voice. Advisors bowed and retreated, their silken robes rustling like a sea of waves pulling back from shore. Guards stomped into formation, their armor clinking in rhythm, and the throne room, once buzzing with voices, emptied until only the royal family and a handful of soldiers remained.
Two guards stepped forward. Their faces were hidden beneath polished helms, but their eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered over me. My crimson dress, too fine for my frame, swished softly as I shifted on my feet. The silk felt foreign, heavy, as though it didn't belong to me any more than I belonged here.
"Take him—" the king began, then corrected himself with a faint curl of his lip, "—take her to her quarters. She will stay in the west wing until I decide what is to be done."
The guards bowed their heads. "Yes, Your Majesty."
I felt my stomach twist. Until he decided. My fate hung by a thread thinner than spider silk.
We left through tall arched doors, the air outside colder, quieter, yet somehow heavier. Every step echoed, swallowed by the stone walls that rose high above us. Long tapestries lined the corridors, woven with scenes of blue-haired kings and queens, water dragons cresting over cities, and rivers flowing endlessly into oceans.
"This way," one of the guards said, his tone curt, though not unkind.
Behind us, the queen's voice carried. "Show her the wings of the castle. Let her know where she belongs."
I dared a glance back. She stood beside the king, her green hair gleaming under torchlight like polished jade. Her gaze met mine—calm, thoughtful, unreadable. Did she see me as a stray animal? A curiosity? Or something more dangerous?
The guard cleared his throat and began to explain as we walked, his voice practiced, almost rehearsed, as if he had spoken the same words to dozens of envoys before me.
"This castle is divided into three great wings. The north wing belongs to Their Majesties, the king and queen. No one enters without invitation or summons."
We turned a corner, and I glimpsed it through a wide archway: towering doors of ivory and gold, guarded by men with spears tipped in silver. The air itself felt heavier, as though it carried the weight of generations of rulers. The lanterns here glowed brighter, the floors shone as if polished daily, and silence pressed down, demanding reverence.
My breath caught in my throat. I had never seen such grandeur. And yet, instead of marvel, unease coiled tighter in my chest. This was not a place built for the likes of me.
We moved on, my heart thudding faster with each step.
"The east wing," the second guard said, his tone lighter, "is reserved for the royal heirs. Their studies, chambers, and training grounds are all within. Only those chosen by them may enter freely."
Before I could even wonder what it looked like, the answer presented itself.
A ripple of laughter, light and graceful, floated down the corridor ahead. Then they appeared—three figures in gowns of silk and jewels, their presence so commanding that the servants trailing behind them seemed almost invisible.
The princesses.
My pulse hammered.
Two of them bore the unmistakable mark of their bloodline—hair the color of the sea beneath sunlight, long and shimmering, swaying with each elegant step. Their resemblance to the king was undeniable, every strand proof of their heritage. But the third—she was different. Her hair was black as midnight, a stark contrast to her sisters, framing her pale face like the ink strokes of an artist's brush.
They stopped when their eyes found me. The air thickened, and even the guards seemed to straighten unconsciously. Their laughter died away, replaced by silence heavy enough to weigh on my shoulders.
The older blue-haired princess tilted her head. Her eyes, sharp and curious, swept over me with the precision of a blade. "Who is this?" she asked. Her voice carried no warmth, only command, though beneath it, I thought I heard a note of intrigue.
The guards bowed quickly, their tone deferential. "A… guest, Your Highness. By order of the king."
The three princesses exchanged a glance, silent words passing between them in an instant.
The black-haired princess took a step closer, her gown trailing like ink spilling over the marble. She studied me without blinking, her gaze sliding from the short red hair at my temples to the crimson dress I wore. Her lips curved—just slightly—into something between a smile and a smirk.
"Strange…" she murmured, her voice low but clear enough for all to hear. "Very strange."
The younger blue-haired sister leaned toward the elder, her whisper soft but not soft enough. "Her hair… like fire."
"Shh," the elder said sharply, though her eyes never left me.
I lowered my gaze, unable to meet their stares. Heat rose to my cheeks—not from shame, but from the raw intensity of their scrutiny. It was as if they could peel away my skin and see the truth of me underneath.
"Come," one of the guards ordered quietly, nudging me forward.
I obeyed, my footsteps quick and uneven, though I could still feel their eyes on me. Their presence lingered, pressing against my back, until I turned the corner and they were gone. Yet their whispers clung to me like smoke.
We walked in silence for several long moments before reaching a quieter, darker hall. The windows here were narrower, letting in little light, and the lanterns were fewer. The air was cooler, emptier, as though the very walls remembered fewer footsteps.
"And this," the first guard finally said, pausing before a tall door of dark wood, "is the west wing. It is where visiting nobles and foreign envoys stay. You will remain here for the time being."
He hesitated, then added with a flicker of his gaze toward me, "Those without a place elsewhere are also housed here."
The words stung, even though his tone held no cruelty. Still, I understood what he meant: I did not belong to this kingdom, nor to its royal line. I was a stranger, a possible threat. A fire smoldering in a house of water.
The guards opened the heavy door and gestured for me to step inside.
I obeyed, though my heart was still racing. My thoughts tangled with the images burned into me: the queen's calm, unreadable eyes. The king's sharp dismissal. And above all, the three princesses—their beauty, their whispers, their scrutiny.
Even now, I could hear the black-haired one's voice echoing in my mind.
Strange.
Yes. Strange. That was what I was to them. A puzzle. A question. A danger, perhaps.
And in this castle, where every glance carried weight, I knew being "strange" might be as perilous as being guilty.