Long tables stretched across the chamber, brimming with steaming platters of food that drew murmurs of delight from nobles and commoners alike.
A rich aroma of freshly grilled fish, shellfish roasted in butter and herbs, and baskets of golden-fried oysters filled the air. On a raised centerpiece, a colossal platter of sea bass glazed with honey-citrus rested, its skin glistening as if it still shimmered beneath the ocean. Bowls of seaweed soup laced with ginger warmed the cold of the evening, and pearl-colored dumplings stuffed with shrimp were carried by attendants on silver trays.
As plates were filled, it did not take long before laughter, compliments, and clinking goblets echoed throughout the hall.
"This—this is unlike anything I've ever tasted!" a noble from the West gasped, lifting a spoonful of crab bisque.
"Indeed," another chimed in, "the Nexus Kingdom knows how to tame the sea itself."
The King smiled at their words, his broad chest swelling with quiet pride. He leaned toward the Queen and whispered, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "It seems our daughter's… unorthodox fishing trip has borne fruits after all."
Queen Elisha chuckled, dabbing her lips with a silk napkin. "Zuleika's recklessness does have its charms. Who else would think to fish personally for a feast meant for hundreds?"
"Stubborn child," the King muttered, though his eyes softened, betraying pride beneath the grumble.
·________·
While the celebration carried on, Zuleika had quietly slipped away, seeking the cool night air beyond the balcony. The moon hung like a silver coin above the ocean, casting its glow across the waves. She leaned against the railing, letting the salty breeze calm her thoughts—until the sound of measured footsteps drew her gaze.
A tall figure stepped into the lantern-lit balcony. His hair, pale as morning frost, gleamed beneath the soft light, and his silver eyes shone with practiced warmth.
"Ah," he said smoothly, inclining his head. "So it is true. The famed jewel of Nexus prefers the whisper of waves to the roar of music."
Zuleika blinked, straightening with practiced poise. "Your Highness." She bowed slightly, confusion flickering across her face. "Forgive me—I did not expect to meet the Crown Prince of Revazkerio so soon."
Althurd's lips curved faintly, though the smile never touched his eyes. "Ah, I fear you've mistaken me. My brother holds that title. I am but the second prince, Althurd Max Lavezki Revazkerio."
A flush of embarrassment brushed Zuleika's cheeks, but she recovered quickly, lowering her head in a graceful nod. "Then forgive my error, Prince Althurd. In a hall so crowded with strangers, it is easy to misplace a crown."
He chuckled softly, intrigued by her ease. "No harm done. Still, I cannot fault you. My brother and I share… certain similarities. Though I daresay I hold myself with a lighter touch than he."
Zuleika tilted her head, polite yet measured. "Perhaps. Though I have always found that the weight of a crown is not lightened by how one carries it, but by whether the one beneath it can bear it at all."
Althurd's smile deepened, sharp with amusement. "A clever tongue, Princess. Tell me—does Nexus raise all its daughters to spar with words as deftly as swords?"
Her lips curved, unbothered. "Only those expected to defend what is theirs."
For a moment, their gazes held, silver clashing against crimson. Then Althurd leaned a fraction closer, lowering his voice until it hummed like velvet.
"Peace," he said softly, almost mockingly. "Yes, your kingdom wears it well. But peace is fragile. Should the Crown Prince of Feltogora fail to earn your favor… you may find another path waiting. One that leads not to uncertainty, but to me."
Zuleika let silence settle before she answered, her expression serene, her tone gentle but unyielding. "Your Highness, paths that must be offered in whispers under the moon are seldom the ones that endure in daylight."
He stilled. For the first time, his charm faltered.
She continued, her words smooth as silk, edged with quiet wit. "If I ever seek another path, I would hope it is one paved in truth, not shadows dressed as kindness. After all, even the most radiant light loses meaning if it does not reach the shore."
The corner of Althurd's mouth twitched, surprise flickering before he masked it again.
Zuleika dipped into a graceful bow. "Forgive my candor, Prince Althurd. But I find honesty far more flattering than poetry. Enjoy the evening."
With that, she turned, the soft rustle of her gown fading as she disappeared back into the hall.
Althurd remained rooted where he stood, silver eyes glinting with something keener than amusement. His lips curved once more—this time slower, sharper, almost predatory.
"Interesting," he murmured into the night air, the echo of her words lingering. "Very interesting indeed."
·________·
Inside, the ball pulsed with life once more. Zuleika was immediately surrounded, nobles and festively dressed commoners greeting her with bows, thanking her for her kindness and praising her father's reign.
"You honor us all, Your Highness."
"The seafood tonight—it was divine!"
"Princess, your presence alone brightens this hall."
She responded to each with grace, her smile warm, her words measured. Yet as she dipped her head to another noble's greeting, her gaze drifted beyond the shoulders of the crowd.
For the briefest instant, a flicker of silver-violet hair cut through the sea of jeweled gowns. Zuleika's breath caught, her spine straightening before she even realized it.
The Princess of Revazkerio.
Aquila's figure moved with poise, every step measured, her gown shimmering like water caught beneath moonlight. The nobles near her bowed as she passed, creating a small current in the tide of bodies, yet her expression did not waver—cold, unreadable, untouchable.
Time seemed to slow, the chatter dimming to a dull echo in Zuleika's ears. And then Aquila turned her head, almost absently, as if following some shift in the air.
Their eyes met—silver against crimson.
The moment lasted no longer than a blink. There was no flicker of recognition in Aquila's gaze, no shift of expression. Her eyes passed over Zuleika as if she were no more than another face in the crowd.
And then the swell of guests surged again, blocking the view.
Zuleika exhaled quietly, returning her focus to those around her. Her lips curved into another polite smile, her words steady as she thanked a cluster of commoners who praised her father's reign. Yet beneath the smooth cadence of her voice, she felt the faint weight of what she had just seen.
She had not seen clearly, but she knew. That presence, those rare silver eyes—there was no mistaking them. The only Princess of Revazkerio.
And yet, it seemed, neither had reason to look twice at the other.
·______·
Meanwhile, back on the balcony, Aquila found her brother still lingering, his gaze fixed on the moonlit ocean. His posture was at ease, but there was something in the stillness of his figure that made the air feel heavy.
"Brother," she called softly, suspicion threading through her voice. "What are you doing out here?"
Althurd turned, silver eyes catching the lantern glow. Whatever polished warmth he wore before had slipped, revealing something sharper beneath. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though it did not reach his eyes.
"Ah, sister," he said, voice low, almost conspiratorial. "I was merely… entertaining the thought of stealing Princess Zuleika from my dear brother's grasp."
The words hung in the air like smoke. Aquila's spine prickled, the chill cutting deeper than the night breeze. She narrowed her gaze. "You speak as if the Princess were a prize to be claimed, like a jewel from a vault."
Althurd's smirk widened. "And is she not? A jewel kept on display, admired by all, but bound by duty. The sort of treasure that tempts men to test how tightly the glass case is locked."
Aquila folded her arms, her tone dry but wary. "You forget that jewels cut, brother. Mishandle them, and you bleed."
He chuckled, soft and humorless, tilting his head in that oddly deliberate way of his. "Ah, but what is a little blood, if the prize is worth it?"
For a moment, silence stretched, broken only by the distant strains of music from the ballroom. Aquila studied his face, the gleam of something unsteady in his eyes. He wasn't jesting—not truly. His fascination was real, and it unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
She forced a light shrug, brushing a strand of hair from her shoulder. "Games can be dangerous, brother."
"Of course," Althurd murmured, straightening as if shaking off his darker musings. His smile softened back into its usual polish, though the shadow behind it remained. "But isn't danger half the fun?"
Aquila said nothing, only pressed her lips thin. She turned her gaze back toward the hall, though her thoughts betrayed her composure.
Princess Zuleika.
She had not seen her face—not clearly. Only the graceful sweep of her gown, the turquoise shimmer of her hair, and the way she had moved across the floor with Princess Eloisa, light and sure, like music made flesh. Even from behind, the poise had been striking enough to draw the eye.
And now, hearing Althurd speak of her with such intent, that image took on a weight Aquila did not like.
A jewel, he had called her. But something in Aquila's chest warned her that jewels, once disturbed, could shatter.