When Princess Zuleika and Princess Aquila pushed through the creaking door at the top of the basement stairs, the sight that greeted them was almost disappointingly plain. Wooden floorboards stretched across a small room, the walls bare except for a single table shoved against the side. On it rested two folded black coats. The only other detail was the wooden exit door, left slightly ajar, the night air slipping through the gap.
Zuleika's eyes lingered on the coats. She strode over, snatched them up without hesitation, and with a flick of her wrist tossed one toward Aquila. The princess of Feltogora caught it against her arm, glaring like Zuleika had just thrown her something filthy. Zuleika ignored her entirely, scanning the rest of the room. It was stripped clean, too bare to be an actual dwelling. Was this place built only for this moment? she wondered, lips pressed tight. Whoever orchestrated this had been deliberate—planned every detail down to the exit.
Aquila adjusted the coat in her arm without putting it on. She walked to the door, each step deliberate, and paused at the threshold as the breeze stirred her hair. The forest outside stretched into shadows, unfamiliar in its density and shape. Her eyes narrowed. This was not Feltogora.
Zuleika joined her, her gaze falling to the ground first. She crouched slightly, fingertips brushing the soil. No wheel tracks, no hoofprints. Nothing disturbed. Her brows furrowed. "No carriage," she murmured to herself. "So… either they carried us, or used another way entirely."
Aquila shot her a side look, unimpressed. "You sound far too comfortable speculating about criminals' methods."
"Better than being blind to them," Zuleika countered smoothly, then straightened, brushing her palms against her skirt. She gestured vaguely at the trees. "If you're ever lost in a forest, the first thing to do is find high ground. It gives you a sense of direction. But for now…" Her eyes returned to the shadowed house behind them. "…we're better off staying inside until sunrise. We don't know where we are, and wandering in the dark will only get us killed."
Aquila held her with a cool, distant stare, her face unreadable, as though debating whether to trust the words of someone she loathed.
Zuleika noticed, and her lips curled into a sharp smile. With a mocking arch of her brow, she added sweetly, "Her Imperial Highness, I advise you to step inside—unless, of course, you'd prefer to freeze to death under the stars."
Aquila's glare hardened, but she said nothing. Instead, she stormed past Zuleika with an irritated sweep of her dress, shouldering open the wooden door as though she owned the place.
Zuleika twitched at her behavior, her jaw tightening. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Brat," she muttered under her breath.
Then, before following, she tilted her head to the sky. The moon hung clear, bright enough to leave a silver path between the trees. She traced its position carefully, noting direction. Whatever this place was, she intended to remember. Only then did she step back inside, the door closing behind her with a quiet thud.
Princess Aquila sat rigidly in the lone wooden chair, her elbows resting on the armrests, eyes locked on the empty table before her. Her posture screamed restraint, as though she refused to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation by breaking composure.
Across the room, Zuleika gave her a cursory glance before walking to the far corner. She slid down against the wall and plopped onto the floor with an unceremonious thud, skirts crumpling around her legs. Her head tilted back against the wall as she exhaled loudly, like someone finally discarding a heavy mask. Not very princess-like—but she hardly cared.
If this isn't Feltogora's territory… then we're in real trouble. Her thoughts swirled darkly. The absence of familiar landmarks gnawed at her. If the forest belonged to another kingdom or empire, danger was already high. But worse—if it was an unclaimed territory, a no-man's land—that meant savage tribes or lawless factions might lurk nearby. Places like that swallowed outsiders whole.
Her brows knit. Let it not be that. Not tonight.
The silence stretched, broken only by the faint creak of the old chair as Aquila shifted. Then, her cold, clipped voice cut through the air like glass.
"How very regal of you, Princess of Nexus," Aquila sneered, her gaze sliding to where Zuleika sat sprawled on the floor. "Slouched against the wall like some drunk tavern wench. Is this how your kingdom raises its royalty?"
Zuleika cracked one eye open, her lips twitching into a smirk. "At least my kingdom doesn't teach us to sit frozen like dolls on display. Tell me, is that stiffness natural, or do you practice it in front of a mirror?"
Aquila's glare sharpened. "I practice discipline. A word you clearly don't comprehend."
"Discipline?" Zuleika scoffed, straightening slightly. "You mean arrogance wrapped in silk. It's a wonder your empire hasn't crumbled already with all the hot air you people breathe."
Aquila leaned forward in her chair, her voice dropping like frost. "You're alive only because of my empire's hospitality. Without it, you'd still be some irrelevant pawn in a backwater court."
Zuleika's laugh was sharp, ringing. "Hospitality? Is that what you call kidnapping proposals and dragging my kingdom into your political games? You've got a strange definition of courtesy."
Aquila's jaw clenched, her hand tightening against the chair's armrest until her knuckles whitened. For a moment, it looked as though she might actually strike her rival. But then, with a sharp breath, she sat back down with exaggerated grace.
"Enjoy your floor, savage," she hissed. "I'll stay where I belong."
Zuleika chuckled, her voice dripping with mockery. "Yes, yes. Stay on your throne, Your Imperial Highness. Don't let the wood give you splinters—your ego might not survive."
The two princesses glared at each other across the dimly lit room, sparks of rivalry crackling even in captivity.
Zuleika shifted further against the wall, tugging the black coat around her torso. She leaned her head back, half resting against the timber, eyes half-lidded but thoughts running fast. Inevitably, her mind drifted to that strange man's words from earlier—the talk of monarchy, of liberation, of something beyond the order of crowns and thrones.
Her gaze flickered, unbidden, to the other side of the room. Aquila sat by the window, her chin resting elegantly on her palm. The moonlight caught her features in fragments—silver eyes turned outward, glimmering coldly, detached. Distant. That look… Zuleika frowned. It was too familiar. The same the third prince Zejidiah, always wore—as if his body was here but his mind forever trapped somewhere else.
Her eyes lingered a moment too long.
Without turning her head, Aquila's lips curved. Her voice came smooth, laced with mockery.
"Stare at me much longer and you might fall in love. Though I suppose I can't fault you—perfection is difficult to ignore."
Zuleika nearly choked, her fingers twitching beneath the coat. By the gods, if I could smack her smug face— But instead, she forced a small smile, her brows twitching.
"Well then, 'perfection,'" Zuleika said evenly, "tell me something. What do you think would truly happen if that man's words came to pass—if the monarchy were torn down, and people chose their rulers themselves?"
The question hung in the air. For a moment, only the forest winds seeped through the cracks of the wooden house.
Aquila did not turn, did not shift her gaze from the moonlit trees. Her voice was cold, precise.
"Don't be ridiculous. Strip away monarchs and crowns, and what remains? A mob, divided by their own petty desires. One side shouting for one leader, another for someone else. Who would settle the dispute? Who would command loyalty? No—without a throne to bind them, they would tear themselves apart."
Zuleika tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh? So the Imperial Princess does possess a mind. Remarkable."
That made Aquila glance at her, silver eyes narrowing. "You mistake my patience for indulgence, Princess Zuleika. Don't."
But Zuleika's smirk only grew. "For once, I actually agree with you. It would be chaos. At least at first." Her tone sharpened, curious and mocking at once. "Still… if that man's idea were ever polished, refined—perhaps by those wiser than us—it might not remain impossible. Not now, no. But somewhere in the future, perhaps."
Aquila scoffed, folding her arms, though the flicker of her eyes betrayed thought. "You sound like a child daydreaming of fairy tales. The world has no place for such naïve experiments."
Zuleika gave a low laugh. "Fairy tales, maybe. But so were empires once, weren't they? A mere thought in someone's head, until blood and stone made them real."
Aquila's lips pressed into a thin line. She turned back to the window, hiding the slight crease in her brow.
Zuleika watched her a moment longer, satisfied that her words had struck deeper than Aquila would admit.