The walk toward the river was unusually quiet. No sharp words cutting the air, no muttered insults between them. Only the symphony of the forest—branches swaying under the morning breeze, the rustle of unseen creatures, and the distant rush of water guiding their steps.
When they finally reached the riverbank, its steady current glittered under the sun. Princess Zuleika wasted no time, kneeling down and plunging her hands into the cold stream. She splashed her face, then her feet, sighing in relief at the bite of the water against her skin.
"Ahh," she exhaled, leaning back on her heels. "Finally, something decent in this cursed forest."
Across from her, Princess Aquila crouched with poise, only dipping her hands into the stream. She moved with the same elegance she carried everywhere—washing away the dirt without disturbing the water too much. When her pale reflection wavered back at her, silver eyes catching the sun, she tilted her head ever so slightly, gaze locked on her own likeness. Then, with a quiet sigh, she rose and settled herself gracefully on a nearby rock, chin in hand.
Zuleika returned not long after, a few round fruits cradled in her palms. She knelt once more at the water, rinsing them before carelessly tossing a couple into Aquila's lap. "Eat," she said simply, dropping onto the grass a few paces away and biting into one without hesitation.
Aquila's brows furrowed at the offering. She looked from the fruit to Zuleika, whose mouth was already full, then back again. Her lips curved into a tight line.
"Do you even know if these are edible?"
Zuleika glanced at her with half-lidded eyes, chewing noisily for emphasis. "I'm eating it, aren't I? Unless, of course, Her Imperial Highness prefers to die of starvation. In that case, by all means—starve."
Aquila's lips pressed into a thin smile, her teeth showing faintly in a gesture far more cutting than warm. "How considerate. Poisoning yourself to set my mind at ease—truly, your devotion to my survival is unmatched."
Zuleika snorted, waving the fruit in her hand. "If I collapse foaming at the mouth, feel free to use that rock you're perched on to write my epitaph. Short and sweet: Here lies Zuleika, the princess who saved a bratty imperial from hunger."
With deliberate slowness, Aquila picked up one of the fruits. She studied it as though it were an enemy scheming against her, then, without breaking eye contact with Zuleika, took a bite. The sweet, fresh juice spread across her tongue, surprising her more than she cared to admit. She turned her head away to hide the faint shift in her expression.
Zuleika caught the motion anyway, smirking. "Thought so. It's not poison, it's just fruit. Amazing, isn't it?"
Aquila ignored her, taking another quiet bite.
The silence stretched a while longer, broken only by the murmur of the water. Then Zuleika groaned, tossing the remains of her fruit into the river. "Damn it. I don't know where we should go next. This isn't my territory—these lands around Feltogora, I've never set foot in them. For all I know, we could be wandering in circles."
At that, Aquila shifted, her chin lifting ever so slightly as her silver eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. "Oh, how delightful. The great Princess of Nexus, finally admitting ignorance."
Zuleika arched a brow, unimpressed. "Enjoy it while you can. I'll think of something."
"I imagine it will be as reckless as everything else you've done," Aquila said smoothly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Charging headfirst at bandits, tearing dresses apart, shoving questionable fruits into your mouth…"
Zuleika leaned back on her palms, smirk tugging at her lips. "And yet here you are, alive because of every single one of those decisions. You're welcome."
Aquila gave a short, sharp laugh—humorless, biting. "Alive, yes. But don't expect gratitude for recklessness dressed as bravery."
Zuleika's smirk only widened. "Didn't expect it. Gratitude would ruin your whole icy persona."
The river's murmur filled the silence until Aquila suddenly straightened on her rock. Her lips moved, forming words in a low, fluid whisper—syllables unlike any language Zuleika had ever heard. The air shifted faintly, as though the trees themselves hushed to listen.
From Aquila's open palm, a soft glow bloomed, and with it emerged a delicate white butterfly. Its wings shimmered faintly in the daylight, like it was spun from threads of moonlight instead of flesh.
Zuleika's lips parted in astonishment. "...That thing again," she muttered. "The same butterfly I saw in the garden the night I tried to sneak out." She tilted her head, brows furrowed in disbelief. "Tell me—what can a butterfly possibly do for us now? Should I clap when it lands on the bandits' noses?"
Aquila turned her head slowly, fixing her with a gaze sharp enough to slice. Her silver eyes gleamed, cold and condescending. "You truly have the imagination of a dull pebble. This butterfly carries my magic—it can guide us back to the Empire's borders."
For a heartbeat, Zuleika only stared. Then the realization hit, and her hands clenched at her sides. "You mean to tell me…" she began, voice tight with fury, "you could have done this—this whole time? And you let us wander like fools?"
Aquila's lips curved upward, not in warmth but in a predatory, almost sadistic amusement. She leaned forward ever so slightly, her voice smooth as velvet and just as cutting.
"Oh, but it was far too entertaining watching you pretend. Charging into fights, gathering your little fruits, speaking so confidently… only to finally admit defeat."
The smile widened. "You really do crumble beautifully, Princess Zuleika."
Zuleika's face twitched, a tremor of anger flashing in her eyes. She forced her lips into a smile that was more like a snarl in disguise. "How gracious of you, Imperial Highness. Next time, perhaps you should sell tickets—you'd make a fortune out of watching people suffer."
Aquila rose to her feet, movements unhurried and deliberate, every gesture steeped in royal poise. The white butterfly fluttered from her palm, drifting forward before circling once in the air, then gliding into the dense stretch of forest.
"Come," Aquila commanded, stepping after it without a backward glance.
Zuleika followed reluctantly, her broken heels crunching over fallen leaves and twigs. The forest closed in around them, shafts of light breaking through the canopy above, scattering golden patches across the moss-covered ground. The butterfly's faint glow ahead served as their only compass.
As they walked, Zuleika's muttering began, low but venomous. "Arrogant… sadistic… smug little—" She kicked at a root, nearly tripping, and cursed louder. "I swear, one of these days, I'll strangle that silver-eyed witch with her own royal ribbons…"
Without turning her head, Aquila's voice drifted back, smooth and maddeningly calm. "I can hear you."
Zuleika froze for a fraction of a second before scoffing and quickening her pace, pretending not to care. "Good. At least then you'll know exactly how much I despise you."
Aquila's laugh was soft, almost inaudible, but it carried in the hush of the forest like a silver bell. "Despise me all you like, Princess Zuleika. It changes nothing."
The butterfly floated on ahead, leading them deeper into the trees, its glow steady—a fragile light in the vast, uncertain wilderness.
...…
Hours of trudging through the forest, with only the faint glow of Aquila's butterfly as their guide, finally led them out of the endless trees. The dense canopy broke, and sunlight poured down in full as the towering wall of Feltogora Empire loomed into sight. Its stone ramparts stood proud and unyielding, banners fluttering in the wind.
The two princesses emerged from the treeline, their silhouettes visible against the light. At once, the guards on watch stirred. A ripple of shock moved through the knights stationed at the gates.
"Open the gate!" one knight barked, voice trembling under his helm. The formation shifted, and as the gates swung open, the armored men dropped to one knee in unison, heads bowed.
"They've returned…" someone muttered.
Another knight shouted an order, his voice urgent. "Send word to His Highness, the Crown Prince—immediately!"
Moments later, the thunder of hooves echoed as a mounted party approached. Crown Prince Matthew himself rode at the front, flanked by loyal knights and accompanied by a cluster of servants. The sight of his younger sister, dirtied and disheveled, made him rush forward.
"Cover the Princess!" he commanded sharply. A maid hurried to Aquila, wrapping her with a clean cloak. Aquila accepted it with quiet dignity, though her silver eyes flicked briefly toward Zuleika, unreadable.
Captain Rhys, however, strode past the commotion, heading directly to Zuleika. His armor bore the dust of travel, his steps weighed with guilt. He dropped to one knee before her.
"Your Highness…" His voice was steady, but his eyes held the sting of shame. "I offer no excuse for my failure. I should have been there. For allowing this peril to reach you, I beg your forgiveness."
Zuleika regarded him silently for a moment, then shook her head faintly. "Rise, Captain Rhys. You owe me no groveling. If blame must fall, it is on the shadows who dared this act, not the shield that could not see them. What matters is that I stand here, alive."
Relief flickered in his eyes, though the stiffness in his posture remained. "Even so," he said quietly, "I will not forgive myself so easily."
Crown Prince Matthew, having ensured Aquila's comfort, turned toward Zuleika. His eyes burned with fury, his jaw tight. He stepped closer, ready to speak—but Zuleika lowered her head, cutting him off with a weary bow.
"Your Highness," she murmured, voice calm yet distant, "forgive me, but I have no strength for pleasantries. I ask leave to retire. Tomorrow, when I am rested, I will give my words."
She made to walk past him.
But Matthew's hand shot out, seizing her wrist in a grip far too firm for courtesy. Zuleika's lips twitched, her body stiffening as her gaze snapped to him. His eyes blazed with anger.
"You vanish without trace," he hissed under his breath, "and dare to dismiss me so lightly? Do you have any idea what this means, what storm this brings to Feltogora?"
The knights bristled, sensing the charged air.
Before Zuleika could speak, Captain Rhys moved like a drawn blade. He stepped forward, hand on his sword hilt, his gaze colder than steel. "Release Her Highness." His tone left no room for negotiation—it was not a request, but a warning.
At once, Matthew's knights tightened formation, weapons half-raised, awaiting a command. The standoff crackled in the silence, the forest wind the only sound threading through the tension.
Zuleika broke it. Her eyes narrowed, her voice carrying the frost of command. "Enough." With a sharp pull, she wrenched her wrist free from Matthew's grasp. The sudden strength in her movement made the prince's jaw clench, his composure cracking for a breath.
Her gaze bore into his, steady and cold. "We vanished without a trace, Your Highness? Then perhaps you should ask—whose fault was it that such a thing was allowed to happen under the very walls of Feltogora?" Her words were even, polite in form, but each syllable cut like tempered steel.
Matthew's lips parted, anger flashing, but no reply left his tongue. The silence that followed pressed heavier than any outburst.
"I said I wish to rest," Zuleika declared, her tone no longer a request but a command befitting her station. The air around her seemed to chill, carrying the weight of a woman who had endured the edge of death yet refused to bow. With measured grace, she turned her back on him without hesitation.
Her steps were steady, quiet, unyielding—every movement a statement. Captain Rhys fell into stride behind her, his shadow stretching long, his presence a silent vow of loyalty.
The Crown Prince stood frozen, fury simmering behind his eyes but smothered beneath the icy weight of her words. His knights shifted uneasily, hands hovering near their blades, but none dared move. The servants lowered their heads, desperate not to draw attention. Tension coiled in the air, as though one wrong breath might spark steel to clash.
And so Zuleika left, her figure retreating toward the palace, every footfall echoing with resolve.
This abduction—this scandal—was more than a wound to her dignity. It was a blade pressed against the fragile ties between their kingdoms, a stain that could not easily be washed away. Feltogora had failed to protect her. Feltogora had allowed her name, her safety, her honor, to be toyed with by faceless men in the dark.
And that failure… rested not on her shoulders.
With this, she thought grimly, the Nexus Kingdom would have no reason to accept a union with Feltogora.
No reason to bind herself here any longer.