The afternoon light spilled into Princess Zuleika's chamber, painting the pale walls in hues of white and blue. She stood still in front of the mirror while Cess busied herself around her.
The gown laid out for her was nothing short of breathtaking—a deep blue silk threaded with veins of gold, as though sunlight had been woven into fabric. Tiny pearls dotted the embroidery, clustered like stars across the bodice and trailing down the layered skirts. Each movement caused the fabric to shimmer like the waves of Nexus's seas.
Her slender fingers bore two rings—one of sapphire set in gold, another of pure white pearl. On her ears hung simple yet elegant pearl studs, glimmering faintly under the sun.
Her turquoise hair was braided into a fish-style plait, tight at the crown and loosening gracefully toward the tips. Cess worked with care, threading pearls throughout the braid until it gleamed with a quiet majesty. When she stepped back, even Cess's usually calm expression faltered.
"Your Highness…" Cess whispered, awe softening her voice. "You look… ethereal."
Zuleika's lips curved faintly. "Do I? Or is it only your loyalty that makes you see me so kindly?"
Cess shook her head firmly. "No, Princess. This is the second time I've seen you adorned so—first at your coming-of-age, and now. The world itself will bow when it sees you."
Zuleika chuckled lightly, though her eyes betrayed no vanity. "Then let us hope they bow for the right reasons."
Before Cess could answer, a knock rapped against the door.
"Your Highness," came a deep, steady voice. Captain Rhys.
"Enter," Zuleika replied.
The door opened, and Rhys stepped in, clad in formal knight's garb, polished silver and navy trimmed with Nexus blues. For a heartbeat, he froze. His stoic composure faltered as his gaze locked onto the princess. The faintest flicker of awe passed over his usually impassive face before he quickly bowed.
"…Your Highness," he said, his tone betraying nothing, though his grip on his sword hilt seemed tighter than usual.
Zuleika allowed herself the smallest smile at his silence, then gestured with a graceful nod. "Shall we?"
The walk through the Imperial Palace's endless halls was quiet, the only sound the soft click of Zuleika's shoes and the measured tread of Rhys beside her. The maids and servants lining the walls lowered their gazes instantly. None dared whisper, none dared breathe too loudly, though more than one risked a glance—quick, furtive looks of awe at her beauty.
Unlike Nexus, where admiration was spoken freely, Feltogora's silence pressed like stone. Zuleika noticed, her chest tightening with quiet disgust, but her expression remained unreadable.
At last, they reached the grand doors of the council hall. Two knights stood at attention, their armor glinting, halberds crossed in ritual salute. They bowed deeply, then swung the towering doors open.
A wave of silence met her.
The hall was vast and circular, dominated by a single table carved of obsidian and ringed with chairs. At its heart sat His Imperial Majesty, Maximiam Caesar IV, his golden eyes sharp under the crown of silver. To his right, Crown Prince Matthew, posture straight and expression cool. To his left, Prince Althurd, lounging slightly yet smiling with an ease that felt rehearsed. Beside him sat the third Prince, Zejidiah, his mismatched eyes lowered to the table, unreadable.
Around them sat scholars, generals, and ministers—stern men robed in maroon, their faces creased with age and pride.
As Zuleika stepped forward, the hush deepened. Her gown trailed like flowing waves, her pearls catching the torchlight. The princes' gazes shifted—Althurd smirked with thinly veiled interest, Matthew's golden eyes softened with stunned admiration, Zejidiah did not lift his gaze.
Captain Rhys moved first, pulling back a vacant chair with soldierly grace. Zuleika bowed her head toward His Imperial Majesty before lowering herself into the seat opposite him.
The silence broke.
A councilor leaned forward, voice dripping with false honey. "Ah, Princess Zuleika of Nexus. Truly, the stories pale compared to reality. Nexus must be most fortunate to hold such a jewel."
Another added, "Indeed. A jewel that, perhaps, may shine brighter when set into a crown of true power."
Laughter—soft, calculated—passed around the table. The words were compliments, yet every syllable carried a hidden barb.
Zuleika's hands folded neatly in her lap, her face serene. "I thank you for your kindness," she said evenly. "But jewels, as you know, hold no worth without the skill of their craftsman. Whatever radiance you perceive, it is the work of my parents' reign—not my own."
The councilor blinked, silenced, while Althurd's smirk deepened.
Another minister pressed. "Ah, but a jewel unused is wasted. Should not such brilliance serve a greater throne?"
Zuleika's lips curved faintly, though her eyes remained calm. "One must be cautious, Your Grace. A jewel forced into the wrong setting may crack—and then it is lost forever."
This time, the silence was heavier. Even the faintest whisper ceased. Althurd's eyes gleamed in amusement. Matthew's fingers tightened against the table's edge.
It was then that His Imperial Majesty finally spoke.
"Enough."
All voices stilled instantly. The Emperor's golden eyes turned upon Zuleika, sharp as blades, glinting with a predator's amusement. The silence was suffocating, and yet he wielded it like a weapon.
"You speak with wit, Princess," he said at last, his voice smooth and low, carrying across the vast chamber. "Rare, for one so young."
Zuleika's lashes lowered, her hands folded neatly atop her lap. "I only speak as Nexus has taught me, Your Imperial Majesty. We are instructed to wield our words carefully, as one would wield a sword."
The Emperor leaned forward, elbows resting on the grand armrest, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His gaze did not waver. "Tell me, then. If Nexus were offered an alliance… forged not through mere treaties, but through blood… what would you say?"
The question hung like a blade suspended above the council table. The air shifted; the council leaned forward, their aged faces bright with anticipation, as if vultures waiting for a carcass to fall.
Zuleika did not flinch. Her breath remained steady as her voice laced the silence.
"Blood may bind, Your Imperial Majesty. But it also stains. Treaties, however, can be renewed, re-forged, polished as circumstances demand. Surely, an Empire as wise as Feltogora would choose the path that does not risk spillage."
A ripple moved through the chamber. Stifled coughs. The creak of an old chair. The faint shifting of silken robes. The Emperor's lips curved into something like a smile—thin, unreadable, dangerous.
"You answer like a queen," he murmured, leaning back.
Zuleika inclined her head once more, offering no further comment.
But the Emperor was not finished. His golden eyes narrowed, locking onto her like a hawk eyeing prey. "Yet, a queen cannot rule without a king. A bird may fly on its own for a time, but even wings tire. Would you not agree that strength is multiplied when bound together?"
Zuleika's lips softened into the faintest of smiles, courteous yet careful. "That may be true, Your Majesty. But wings bound together too tightly may break. Balance must be preserved, else both fall from the sky."
Several council members exchanged looks, some suppressing their smirks, others frowning at her audacity. Prince Althurd's lips twitched upward into a shadowed smirk, while the Crown Prince's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving Zuleika.
The Emperor's voice deepened. "And yet, Princess, one cannot deny that certain bonds—say, a marriage—may prevent kingdoms from… falling." He paused deliberately, his gaze flickering toward his eldest son, then back to Zuleika. "Tell me, would Nexus not prosper under the protection of Feltogora's Crown?"
A lesser woman might have faltered beneath the weight of that unmasked provocation. Zuleika did not. She shifted her gaze briefly to the golden goblet before her, as if pondering its reflection, before speaking.
"Protection, Your Majesty, is a noble gift. But a true kingdom does not prosper by being sheltered beneath another's wing—it prospers by standing firm beside its allies. Nexus does not seek protection. We seek mutual strength."
The words rang with clarity. It was no insult, but no submission either.
The Emperor's fingers drummed against the armrest, slow and deliberate. "You evade with grace," he said, a hint of amusement threading his tone. "But surely you understand that such bonds are inevitable. History favors them. Empires are built upon them."
"History, Your Majesty," Zuleika answered smoothly, "is also built upon wars begun by the same unions. A marriage can unite… but it can also suffocate." Her eyes lifted to his, cool and steady. "Surely a ruler of your wisdom knows when a blade is better left sheathed."
The council erupted in murmurs, quickly hushed when the Emperor's hand lifted lazily, silencing them without a word. His smile had vanished now, replaced by a look harder to read—half respect, half irritation.
"You are bold," he said at last. "Boldness in a princess can either save her people… or doom them."
Zuleika bowed her head lightly, her turquoise hair falling like a veil over her shoulder. "Then I pray my boldness serves to save them."
The Emperor chuckled, low and humorless. "Your tongue is sharper than most swords I've seen on battlefields. But I wonder, Princess… will it remain so sharp when pressed with a crown upon your head?"
Her gaze flicked upward, unyielding. "So long as it is a crown I choose to wear, Your Majesty."
The words struck like arrows, not loud, not defiant, but precise. The chamber fell into a tense stillness. Even the Crown Prince's eyes widened faintly, while Althurd's smirk deepened, his fingers brushing his chin as if savoring the spectacle.
For the first time, the Emperor leaned back fully, golden eyes narrowing in consideration. He said nothing more on the matter, though the weight of his silence spoke volumes.
The tension broke only when she herself spoke again. "If I may, Your Majesty… while I remain in your Empire, I would ask permission to walk among its streets. To see with my own eyes what lies within Feltogora."
A murmur swept the council, scandalized, but the Emperor merely lifted a hand. "Granted. Walk as you wish. You will find much to… reflect upon."
The meeting continued, the sun sinking lower until crimson light spilled into the chamber. At last, it ended.