Outside the doors, Zuleika exhaled softly, her composure loosening now that the council's weight was behind her. Captain Rhys inclined his head toward her.
"I will see to your bath prepared, Your Highness," he said quietly, his voice warm but disciplined.
"Thank you, Captain," she replied, her tone carrying both weariness and gratitude.
As he strode away, the sound of boots softened behind her. She turned slightly, and there stood Crown Prince Matthew.
He bowed lightly, his gaze intent. "Princess Zuleika."
Zuleika mirrored the gesture with flawless precision. "Your Highness."
For a moment, silence lingered—thick, but not uncomfortable. His golden eyes studied her with a depth that was not entirely political.
"Forgive me for speaking so boldly," he said at last, his voice low, "but you were… breathtaking within the council. Not merely in appearance, but in how you held your ground. Few would have answered my father so calmly."
Zuleika tilted her head, the faintest of smiles curving her lips, polite but distant. "Your words honor me, though I fear they overpraise. I only spoke as duty required. To falter would have been to shame my kingdom."
"Perhaps," Matthew conceded, though his eyes lingered on her. "Yet not every princess can wear duty as if it were second nature. It is… rare."
Her smile thinned, graceful and deliberate. "Rare things are often fragile, Your Highness. Better not to handle them too closely, lest they break."
A flicker crossed his face—not hurt, but the smallest spark of intrigue. His lips curved into a restrained smile. "Then I will take care not to press too close."
Before Zuleika could shape her reply, a courtier's voice rang out urgently from down the corridor:
"Your Highness—the Emperor requests you immediately!"
Matthew straightened, his jaw tightening in visible irritation before smoothing his expression into calm. He inclined his head once more. "Duty calls. Forgive me, Princess."
"No forgiveness is needed," she said smoothly, dipping her head in return.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second longer, as though unwilling to leave just yet. Then, with a final glance, he turned and strode away.
Zuleika let her polite mask slip at last, exhaling softly. Relief softened her features. At least she had been spared further probing.
She turned, wandering the endless halls alone. The maroon walls pressed close, heavy with portraits of emperors past, each painted with cold, predatory eyes that seemed to follow her. The silence of the palace felt suffocating—too polished, too still.
Then, beyond a carved archway, something unexpected caught her gaze.
Color.
She stepped through, her heels whispering against the stone, and the world shifted.
A garden stretched out before her, enclosed by high walls of pale stone. Sunlight poured in from above, bathing the space in warmth. Roses the color of fire and blood grew in perfect arcs along the trellises. Lilies, white and gold, stood tall and graceful by the fountain, their scent faint yet sweet. Violets and orchids spilled across marble planters, arranged not randomly but with a practiced, almost reverent hand. Butterflies flickered lazily in the air, and the steady trickle of the fountain mingled with the soft rustle of leaves.
It was unlike the rest of the palace—so alive, so delicate, as if it did not belong here at all. Zuleika walked slowly between the flowerbeds, her gaze lingering on the blossoms. She could almost imagine herself back home in Nexus, where the gardens were vibrant and filled with laughter, not guarded by silence and marble walls.
Her hand brushed against a cluster of violets. Cool, soft petals yielded beneath her fingertips. For a brief moment, her expression softened. Here, at least, was beauty unmarred by cruelty.
And then she saw her.
Standing at the far end of the garden, half-turned toward the light, was a figure.
Aquila.
Her light purple hair was loose, cascading in soft waves down her back, faintly threaded with delicate blossoms pinned like stars in her hair. Sunlight caught on the strands, making them gleam like spun moonlight. She wore a gown of pure white silk, the fabric draping flawlessly over her form, reflecting light with the purity of snow. Yet there was nothing fragile about her. She stood straight, still, her head tilted slightly as she regarded a rare white lily between her fingers.
Zuleika stilled. Her breath caught in her chest, though her face betrayed nothing. Slowly, Aquila turned, her gaze shifting from the flower to the intruder who had stepped into her quiet space.
Their eyes met.
Silver against crimson.
To Zuleika, the girl before her seemed carved from cold light—serene, untouchable, as though she herself were a statue given flesh. There was no warmth in those eyes, no spark of welcome, only a quiet, detached curiosity that made Zuleika feel weighed and measured in an instant. Aquila was beautiful, yes—but hers was a beauty meant to unsettle, to keep others at arm's length.
To Aquila, the girl who had entered her garden was nothing like the stiff, painted courtiers she had grown used to seeing. Zuleika's red eyes were sharp yet steady, her posture regal but unpretentious. The turquoise of her hair, braided elegantly with pearls, glimmered in the fading sun like seafoam. There was a composure about her that Aquila recognized, though it irked her—the same kind of composure that said she bowed to no one in her heart, no matter how deeply she inclined her head.
The silence between them stretched, taut as a drawn bow.
At last, Zuleika bowed lightly, her movement smooth, restrained. She did not speak further.
Aquila did not return it. She only turned her gaze back to the flower in her hand, as though the Princess of Nexus were little more than a passing breeze that disturbed the air for a moment and nothing more.
Zuleika's lips twitched, irritation flashing sharp and quick in her chest. Her voice, when it came, was clipped but civil. "Excuse me, Your Highness."
She turned and walked away, her gown trailing in soft silks behind her.
From the corner of her eye, Aquila watched her retreat, expression unreadable. There was something in the set of Zuleika's shoulders, the way she carried herself even as she left, that drew her eye against her will. Only when the figure disappeared beyond the archway did Aquila turn her attention back to the lily, fingertips brushing the petals with feigned serenity.
And yet, behind both masks, the same thought flared sharp and unyielding.
She pisses me off.
·___________·
Zuleika walked briskly back through the maroon corridors, her steps measured, her expression carved into that same calm mask she had worn before the council. But inside, her chest still burned. The audacity of the Revazkerio princess—Aquila, who had not even returned her bow. That cold dismissal lingered in her mind like an ember refusing to die.
By the time she reached her chambers, Captain Rhys was waiting by the door. He bowed as she passed, his face grave, but he did not speak. He knew well enough that silence was the best shield at times like this.
Inside, the chamber glowed softly, golden light spilling through the tall windows as the sun descended beyond the horizon. The warmth of blue and white décor—carefully arranged to suit her—felt like a small piece of Nexus transplanted into hostile soil. It soothed her. Almost.
Waiting within, as always, was Cess. The young maid had already prepared a steaming bath, its surface sprinkled with herbs and faint petals that released a calming fragrance. When Zuleika entered, Cess curtseyed with quiet grace.
"Your Highness," she said softly, her voice respectful yet warm. "Your bath is ready."
Zuleika exhaled, untying the golden clasp of her outer gown. "Thank you, Cess."
The maid moved deftly, her hands practiced as she helped the Princess disrobe with quiet care. Soon Zuleika stepped into the bath, sinking into the warmth with a sigh. The heat enveloped her skin, loosening the tension from her shoulders, though her thoughts remained sharp.
Cess knelt at the edge, carefully pouring warm water down her mistress's arms. She glanced up once, hesitating. "You seem troubled, Your Highness."
Zuleika tilted her head against the rim of the bath, eyes half-lidded. "Do I?" Her lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "Perhaps the Empire's air is heavier than Nexus's. It settles on the chest."
Cess looked uneasy but did not comment. Instead, she continued tending quietly, her hands steady.
After a long silence, Zuleika broke it with a question that sounded casual but was anything but. "Tell me, Cess… would you like to see the capital city of Feltogora?"
The maid blinked, startled. "The city, Your Highness? Forgive me, but… we are not permitted to leave the palace grounds without explicit orders. And even if we were, it would not be safe. For me, especially."
Zuleika's eyes opened fully, her dark gaze curious. "Because you are a maid?"
Cess lowered her gaze to the water, voice soft. "Because I am common."
That word carried weight, the kind Zuleika had already begun to notice since her arrival. She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the bath's edge. "In Nexus," she said slowly, "commoners and nobles may walk the same streets. They may speak, trade, and greet without fear. Is it so different here?"
The maid's lips pressed together before answering. "Here, Your Highness, a commoner's life is… fragile. Nobles may strip it away with a word. Even a glance, if they are displeased. They are taught never to meet their eyes. Never to draw attention. To bow so deeply we become part of the floor."
Zuleika's hands clenched beneath the water. She masked the reaction with a sigh. "Disgusting," she murmured, echoing the same word she had whispered upon seeing the streets.
Cess hesitated, then said timidly, "You must be cautious, Your Highness. The people here admire your beauty already… but admiration quickly turns to jealousy, or to fear. And the royals…" She trailed off, her throat tightening around words unspoken.
Zuleika regarded her silently, then softened her tone. "You speak bravely, Cess. I chose you to accompany me for that reason. You are loyal, but you do not hide the truth."
Cess's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering there. "Y–Your Highness remembers me?"
"Of course," Zuleika said simply. A true smile touched her lips now, faint but sincere. "You were always the one who carried trays without spilling a single drop, even when the twins tried to play their tricks. I do not forget faces—or loyalty."
The maid flushed with both pride and embarrassment, bowing her head quickly. "You honor me far more than I deserve, Princess."
Silence fell again, but it was warmer this time, filled with a fragile ease. Zuleika leaned back in the water, her eyes drifting toward the high ceiling. Steam curled upward, carrying with it the faint fragrance of herbs.
After a long pause, she spoke once more, her voice thoughtful. "The Emperor himself has granted me leave to walk the capital tomorrow. He calls it a gesture of goodwill."
Cess's hands stilled, the cloth slipping slightly between her fingers. "Your Highness—truly?" Her eyes widened with a mixture of awe and worry. "That is… an honor. But also a risk. The capital may be grand, but it is not gentle. Not for outsiders."
Zuleika's lips curved, faint but deliberate. "All the more reason to see it with my own eyes. If I am to spend two months in this Empire, I cannot remain caged within its cold walls. To understand Feltogora, I must see its heart—its people, its streets, its pulse."
The maid's brow furrowed, torn. "I fear what might happen, Princess. Crowds can turn. And nobles… they watch."
Zuleika tilted her head, studying her reflection in the rippling water. "Then let them watch. Let them see that Nexus does not bow timidly in foreign courts." Her voice softened, steady as stone. "The people should be seen—not as shadows in the streets, but as lives."
Cess swallowed, heart caught between admiration and dread. At last she bowed her head, whispering, "Then I will walk at your side, no matter what awaits."
This time, Zuleika's smile reached her eyes. A quiet laugh, low and graceful, stirred the steam. "I expected no less."