The ride back to the Revazkerio Palace was quiet. When they reached her chamber, the sun had begun to sink, scattering streaks of gold and crimson across the maroon walls. Zuleika dismissed Rhys with a soft word, and though he hesitated, he obeyed. Cess helped her out of her simple dress and into something lighter for the evening. Yet Zuleika's mind was elsewhere—already on the letter she would write.
At last, with only a single lamp burning beside her desk, she sat with parchment before her. The quill rested in her slender fingers, the inkpot reflecting a fragment of her face. For a long moment she simply sat, staring at the page, her thoughts tightening into threads that refused to untangle.
Then she began.
To my dearest family, Father, Mother, and my beloved sisters and brothers of Vasiliou,
Three days I have lived within the walls of Feltogora's capital, Revaz, currently residing at the Revazkerio's palace and still I find myself grasping for words to describe it. Yet describe it I must, for you deserve to know the world I now walk in, a world so different from the one we hold dear.
Her quill moved smoothly, though her thoughts swelled heavier with each line.
The Empire's grandeur cannot be denied. Its streets are paved with stone polished so brightly that even the light of dusk clings to them. Shops rise tall and proud, their banners embroidered with gold thread, their windows filled with jewels, silks, and perfumes. Yet beneath this wealth lies something I cannot ignore. Only nobles walk here. The commoners, the lifeblood of a nation, are pushed away, hidden down streets too far for my eyes to see. It is as though their very existence offends the glittering pride of Feltogora.
Zuleika paused, the quill hovering, her lips pressing together. She remembered Lady Solemn's sneer, the way she had raised her hand against Cess simply for standing beside her.
Here, cruelty is not whispered—it is displayed as fashion. Nobility carries its arrogance as if it were a crown, and those beneath them bear the weight without question. Even the laughter of these nobles feels sharpened, a dagger disguised as a smile.
Her hand slowed. The ink bled into the parchment as she let her thoughts deepen further.
I know now why His Imperial Majesty pushes so fervently for bonds of blood between our houses. He sees Nexus as fertile ground—a place where warmth still exists, where people and royals share a bond beyond fear. It unsettles him. Perhaps even threatens him. And so, they seek to consume us, to gild our freedom in chains of marriage and mineral mines.
Zuleika set the quill down for a moment, leaning back in her chair. Her turquoise hair, still braided with pearls, caught the lamplight like fragments of the sea. She pressed her fingers lightly against her temple, her mind burning with quiet fire.
She thought of the Emperor's piercing gaze, of Crown Prince Matthew's heavy eyes studying her with both admiration and calculation. She thought of Prince Althurd's sly smile, of Aquila's cold indifference in the garden. Each encounter left an imprint, weaving a map of dangers she would have to tread carefully.
Do not worry for me, my beloved family. I will endure this trial. But I cannot—will not—forget who I am, nor what Nexus stands for. Every word I speak here, every breath I take, is for the sake of preserving our way of life. If I must smile in the face of venom, I shall. If I must bend without breaking, then so be it. But I will never let them mistake me for something less than what I am.
Her hand trembled slightly at that line, not from fear but from the weight of her own vow. She closed her eyes briefly, breathing deeply.
Finally, she signed the letter.
With unwavering love,
Zuleika Livia Yekosta Vasiliou.
When the ink dried, she folded the letter carefully, sealing it with the wax bearing the Vasiliou crest. Her fingers lingered over it as though it carried more than words—as though her very heart had been pressed into the parchment.
Zuleika leaned back, her eyes fixed on the faint flicker of the lamp. She thought of her father: If you do not want to, you need only say it, and I will decline their proposal. She smiled faintly at the memory, even as her chest ached. She had already chosen. To protect Nexus, she would walk this path alone, no matter how thorned.
The sound of Cess moving about quietly in the chamber drew her back. She turned, her expression softening as she saw her maid folding the garments they had bought earlier.
For now, at least, the letter would be sent. Her words would fly across borders, carrying truth to those she loved. And she, in turn, would remain here in the cold marbled palace of Revazkerio, a lone flame against endless stone.