The morning air carried the tang of the sea and the faint fragrance of salt and blossoms drifting from the royal gardens. The Nexus Palace courtyard stood unusually quiet, filled only with the muted clatter of armored boots and the shuffle of attendants preparing for the departure. The great black-and-silver carriage, marked with the crest of Nexus, gleamed beneath the pale light, waiting to bear Princess Zuleika toward the Empire of Feltogora.
Eloisa was the first to rush forward, her hands clutching Zuleika's tightly. Her eyes were already brimming with tears though she bit her lip to stop them from falling.
"Sister… I hate this," Eloisa whispered, shaking her head. "Why must it be you? Can't they send anyone else?"
Zuleika leaned down, touching her forehead gently to Eloisa's. "Because no one else can, Eloisa. But I promise you—I'll be back before you've had the chance to miss me properly."
"That's a lie," Eloisa muttered, though her lips quivered into a smile. "I'll miss you the moment you leave my sight."
Before Zuleika could answer, two voices interrupted loudly.
"Don't make it so dramatic, Eloisa!" cried Steven, one of the twins, striding up with his usual boundless energy. Elijah, quieter but no less affectionate, followed closely behind.
Steven puffed out his chest as though giving a speech. "Sister, if the Empire dares treat you poorly, just send word. Elijah and I will storm their walls ourselves."
Zuleika chuckled despite the lump in her throat. "Ah, I feel so reassured now. Two boys barely past seventeen, conquering an empire."
Elijah crossed his arms, shooting Steven a pointed look. "Don't listen to him, Sister. He'd trip over his own sword before reaching their gates."
Steven gawked. "That happened one time!"
Zuleika's laugh escaped, light and genuine, easing the tension around them. She reached out, pulling both twins into a firm embrace. "I'll hold you to your promise. If I ever falter, I'll imagine the two of you charging through the empire's doors to drag me home."
The twins squeezed her tighter, their usual banter melting into silence. When they finally let go, Eloisa threw her arms around Zuleika as well, clinging fiercely.
"You must come back," Eloisa murmured. "Not just for Father or Mother—for us. For me."
Zuleika stroked her hair, voice steady though her heart quaked. "I will, Eloisa. That, I swear."
King Stewart stood at the steps, his imposing figure softened by the heaviness of parting. Beside him was Queen Elisha, her veil fluttering as she fought to maintain her composure. Between them, Zuleika felt the pull of their gazes—the weight of a farewell that neither parent truly wanted to give.
Captain Rhys, the knight who once stood beside her on the fishing pier, adjusted the sword at his waist. He was a man of few words, but his loyalty needed none. Beside him stood Cess, the chosen maid, her head bowed, hands clasped tightly before her.
The King's voice carried across the courtyard. "Rhys. Cess. I entrust to you what is dearest to me. See that she returns home in safety."
Rhys knelt, pressing a fist to his chest. "By my oath, Your Majesty."
Cess trembled slightly under the King's gaze, then curtsied. "I will devote my every breath to her well-being, Sire."
Zuleika tried to lighten the gravity in her smile as she stepped forward. "Father. Mother. You've no need to look as though I march to war. I'll return, and with all my limbs intact, no less."
The Queen clutched her daughter's hands, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay regal. "Do not jest, Zuleika. You are walking into a den of wolves. Promise me—you will guard your heart as fiercely as your duty."
Zuleika leaned forward, pressing her forehead to her mother's. "I promise, Mother."
The King placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing once in an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. "Go, my child. Make them see that Nexus does not bend."
With one last look at them, Zuleika climbed into the carriage. Captain Rhys and Cess followed, and with a snap of reins, the carriage wheels began to turn.
As the carriage rolled through the city, the streets came alive. Commoners and nobles alike stood shoulder to shoulder, waving banners of blue and white, shouting blessings into the air. Children darted forward to toss flowers onto the cobblestones, their petals scattering beneath the wheels.
"Good fortune, Your Highness!"
"Return safe, Princess!"
"We'll pray for you!"
Zuleika pressed her palm against the glass window, her throat tightening at the sincerity etched on every face. Unlike the Feltogoran doctrine of fear, Nexus stood upon trust and love. Here, the people did not kneel until their foreheads scraped stone—they smiled, wept, and reached out with genuine hope.
Cess peeked nervously from the opposite window, whispering, "They love you dearly, Princess."
"They love their Kingdom," Zuleika corrected softly. "And I am but a piece of it."
Rhys shifted in his seat, silent, but his stern gaze lingered on Zuleika's reflection. She knew he disagreed—knew he considered her more than just a piece. But loyalty kept him quiet.
The journey stretched long—five hours of swaying wheels and the steady rhythm of hooves. Meadows gave way to rocky hills, and hills to the borders of a land that reeked of different laws and harsher truths.
·_________·
When the carriage finally crossed into Feltogoran territory, the change was immediate. The air itself seemed heavier, laced with iron and smoke from the sprawling furnaces that dotted the horizon. The architecture rose tall and imposing—gray stone carved into jagged spires, as if the Empire had sculpted its cities to wound the very sky.
Along the streets, Zuleika's brows furrowed as she observed the common folk. They moved briskly, heads down, shoulders hunched as if afraid of shadows. Chains clinked as slaves carried loads twice their size, their ankles bruised raw. Nobles in elaborate attire strutted past, sneering, shoving peasants aside without consequence.
"Disgusting," Zuleika muttered, the word slipping out like venom.
Captain Rhys's eyes flicked toward her, unreadable, but he said nothing.
As the carriage wound its way toward the Vast Imperial Palace, Zuleika's heart grew heavier. The palace itself loomed larger than life, a monstrous edifice of maroon stone, lined with towering statues of past emperors glaring down upon intruders. Golden banners whipped in the wind, their sigil—a blazing crown surrounded by thorns—proclaiming Feltogora's creed of dominance.
The carriage rolled to a halt.
The door swung open, and Captain Rhys extended his hand with grave solemnity. Zuleika took it, stepping down onto the polished stone courtyard. The instant her heels touched ground, she froze.
Before her, an entire line of maids knelt, their foreheads pressed to the floor. Across from them, armored knights bent one knee, heads bowed low, not daring to breathe too loud.
"What is this…" Zuleika whispered, eyes wide.
Rhys leaned slightly, his voice a hush meant only for her. "Your Highness. This is how they treat Royals in the Empire."
Zuleika's chest tightened, pity and disgust wrestling within her. "This is cruelty," she murmured back.
"Yes," Rhys agreed, his face hardening as he straightened. "But take care—mask yourself. The second prince approaches."
Footsteps clicked against the stone—measured, deliberate. Prince Althurd emerged in all his ostentation, his robe embroidered with gilded patterns that seemed almost absurd in excess. His smile was practiced, polished, the kind meant to disarm but never truly warm.
"Princess Zuleika," he greeted with a bow that was just shy of genuine respect. "The Empire welcomes you with open arms."
Zuleika dipped her chin in return, her expression composed. "Prince Althurd. Your courtesy honors me."
"Ah, but I assure you," Althurd's lips curled, "it is I who am honored. The jewel of Nexus gracing our halls? Even the walls themselves seem brighter."
Before Zuleika could respond, the air shifted. Heavier footsteps approached quickly—hurried, forceful. Althurd's smile widened, wicked amusement flickering in his eyes as he turned.
It was Crown Prince Matthew. His face was carved in stern lines, his eyes sharp with disdain as he leveled a glare at Althurd.
"Brother," he said coldly. "Could you not restrain yourself for once? To snatch the welcome that is not yours?"
Althurd's bow was mocking in its perfection. "Dearest Matthew. I merely sought to fill the void left by your absence. Would you rather the Princess stood unattended, wondering if the Empire's heirs had forgotten her?"
Matthew's jaw tightened. "Better forgotten than greeted by you."
Their eyes locked—fire and venom exchanged in silence.
Althurd only chuckled softly, turning his gaze back to Zuleika. "Pay no mind to brotherly squabbles, Princess. The Crown Prince has always had a flair for dramatics."
Matthew exhaled sharply, but when his gaze shifted to Zuleika, it softened with courtly grace. He bowed deeply, voice steady. "Princess Zuleika, allow me to apologize. It should have been I who welcomed you first."
Zuleika regarded him coolly, though her lips curved faintly. "The road was long, Crown Prince. A few moments' delay has not lessened my resolve to be here."
Matthew's eyes flickered, as though measuring her words. "Even so. As the heir of Feltogora, it is my duty to see that you are received with dignity. If you will permit it, I shall escort you to your chambers."
She hesitated only briefly before inclining her head. "Very well."
As they turned to enter the palace, Matthew cast one last glare over his shoulder at Althurd. Althurd, in turn, only smiled wider, teeth glinting like a predator savoring the game.
·_________·
The air grew colder as they stepped inside. The Vast Palace lived up to its name—maroon walls stretched endlessly, lined with oil portraits of emperors long dead, their painted eyes sharp and unyielding. Every corridor echoed with silence, save for the measured footfalls of guards. Gold filigree laced the ceilings, but the grandeur felt hollow, as though the palace itself was a cage gilded in splendor.
Matthew walked beside Zuleika, hands clasped neatly behind his back. "I trust the journey did not exhaust you too greatly, Princess?"
Zuleika's gaze lingered on a portrait of a grim-faced emperor with a crown of iron. "Exhaustion I can manage. Disillusionment is another matter."
Matthew's eyes slid toward her, his lips twitching at her boldness. "You speak your mind freely. That is… refreshing."
"Or reckless," she countered evenly.
He allowed himself a small chuckle. "Perhaps both."
They reached a tall, ornate door framed in crimson and gold. Matthew paused, bowing slightly. "Your chambers, Princess. I had them redecorated to reflect the colors of Nexus. I thought… familiarity might ease the transition."
Zuleika gave him a small, cheap smile—polite, but unreadable. "Consideration noted, Crown Prince. I thank you."
Matthew's expression flickered with something unspoken before he straightened. "Rest well, Princess. Tomorrow, the Empire's court will expect to meet you." With that, he excused himself, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Inside, Zuleika paused. The room was warm, softened in blue and white drapery, a stark contrast to the maroon severity outside. It almost felt like home—almost.
Captain Rhys and Cess followed her in. She turned, her tone commanding but gentle. "Captain Rhys, you may rest. I will call if I require you."
He hesitated, frowning. "Your Highness, I would prefer to remain—"
"That is an order, Captain."
He bowed, reluctant but bound by duty. "As you wish, Princess." He left the chamber.
Zuleika turned to the maid, her eyes warm. "Cess. Will you see to the baggage?"
Cess stiffened, eyes widening. "Y-Your Highness… how did you know my name?"
Zuleika's smile softened. "I know the names of all who serve our palace with loyalty. Did you think you were unseen?"
Cess's lips trembled, and she lowered her head. "I… I am honored, Princess."
As Cess busied herself, Zuleika lay back on the bed. Her body ached from travel, her mind heavy from the sights of the Empire. Yet, as her eyelids fluttered, she clung to the faces of her people waving her off, to the warmth of her parents' parting.
Sleep claimed her at last, the chamber quiet save for the rustle of Cess arranging the baggage in silence.