The sun rose warm and bright, gilding the eaves of the western estate in a golden light. After a day of rest, Zuleika prepared herself for the Crown Prince's promise—today, they would visit the nearby town.
When she stepped outside the residence, she found a carriage waiting at the foot of the steps. The Crown Prince stood beside it, dressed in lighter garb more fitting for the countryside. At the sight of her, his gaze softened, and he allowed himself a faint smile.
Zuleika responded with a small, respectful nod, her crimson eyes betraying little more than courtesy. He moved forward then, offering his hand. She hesitated only briefly before accepting his assistance, and with practiced grace, Matthew helped her into the carriage.
As the wheels began to turn, Zuleika glanced out at the fields unfurling in the morning light. Her curiosity stirred, and she turned toward him.
"What is the town like?" she asked.
Matthew leaned back, watching her with a thoughtful expression before answering. "It is called Velmoura. The name means 'where the rivers meet.' Long ago, two streams from the western mountains crossed here and became one, and the settlement grew around that confluence. The river still runs through its heart, feeding the fields and shaping the market life. It is not as grand as the Imperial Capital, but…" A small smile curved his lips. "It has a charm all its own. People say its air feels lighter, its colors brighter."
Zuleika tilted her head slightly, curiosity catching in her expression. "A place that thrives because of the river…" She murmured, almost to herself, then raised her gaze again. "And where is Princess Aquila?"
"She is resting," Matthew replied smoothly, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. "My sister does not enjoy summers. She despises the heat, and more so the idea of sweating. You will rarely find her outside in this season unless duty compels her."
Zuleika's lips curved faintly, though whether in amusement or disapproval, even she was not certain. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and allowed silence to settle until the landscape outside shifted.
The carriage rolled through the last stretch of forest and descended toward Velmoura. Zuleika leaned forward unconsciously, her eyes widening at the sight that met her.
The town spread along the river like a painting brought to life. Wooden bridges arched gracefully over the water, their railings draped in strings of drying herbs and bright fabrics fluttering in the breeze. Stone-paved streets wound between houses with sloping roofs and flower boxes spilling with blooms in every hue. The air was alive with sound—vendors calling their wares, children laughing as they darted across the bridges, the steady rhythm of a millwheel turning in the distance.
The river itself shimmered under the sun, wide and slow, with fishermen guiding small boats along its currents. Its banks were lined with stalls and cloth awnings, shading baskets of fresh produce, pottery, and handwoven goods. The scent of baked bread, roasted chestnuts, and spices drifted through the air, mingling with the crisp freshness of water.
Zuleika's breath caught softly. It was… alive. Nothing like the stern grandeur of the Imperial Capital. Here, the colors were unrestrained, the voices loud but warm, the rhythm of life unpretentious and free.
Matthew studied her from across the carriage, his gaze sharpening slightly at the wonder softening her expression. For once, she did not look guarded or calculating. She looked as though the weight she carried had lifted, even if only for a heartbeat.
"Velmoura," he said quietly, "welcomes all with open hands. It may not look like much to others, but… it reminds me of a side of Feltogora that is worth protecting."
Zuleika's eyes flicked toward him, her brows faintly knit. His words lingered with sincerity, but still she remained cautious. She turned back to the view, unwilling to let him see too much of her heart.
The carriage slowed, then halted at the cobbled heart of Velmoura. The driver climbed down, opening the door with a respectful bow. Matthew was the first to step out, offering his hand once more. Zuleika accepted it only because propriety demanded she must, and the warmth of the sun brushed her face as her boots touched the ground.
The townsfolk had already begun to gather. Murmurs rose like ripples across the crowd. Whispers of "The Crown Prince…" mingled with soft gasps at the sight of her foreign attire. Then, inevitably, a few voices rose above the hush—playful, awestruck, unguarded.
"What a striking pair."
"Such a good-looking couple, aren't they?"
Zuleika felt her brow twitch, her crimson eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second. Couple? Me? With him? I would rather die single than end up loving this man. She pressed her lips together, smoothing her expression before it betrayed more. Matthew, of course, had heard the whispers too—he smiled faintly, clearly entertained, though he wisely made no comment.
They began their walk through Velmoura's bustling streets. Matthew led with the practiced poise of someone used to being watched, his stride neither hurried nor arrogant. He pointed out the highlights of the town with ease, his voice low enough to keep the attention intimate.
"There is a stall just ahead that sells honey soaked in lavender—Velmoura's specialty. My sister Aquila swears by it, though she will never admit her sweet tooth." He cast a sidelong glance at Zuleika, as though testing whether she would soften at the mention of his sister.
Zuleika merely hummed politely, her gaze wandering to the vibrancy of the market: silks dyed in river hues, trinkets hammered in bronze, handwoven baskets stacked like pyramids. The sound of life here was layered—vendors calling, children laughing, the distant lilt of a lute somewhere near the square.
Her steps faltered when her eyes caught a particular storefront. A humble wooden sign hung above the door, painted with a brush and palette. The open shutters revealed canvases lined along the wall, pigments ground into jars that glittered like gemstones in the sunlight.
Matthew noticed at once. He slowed, following her gaze, then tilted his head. "An art shop?"
Zuleika blinked, caught in her own stillness. She turned slightly, her voice quiet but steady. "Yes. I… I do paint."
For a moment, Matthew's golden eyes widened, as though he were genuinely taken aback. Then, a rare softness colored his voice. "You paint." He repeated it not as a question but as though savoring the thought. "I would not have guessed."
Zuleika lifted her chin slightly, modest but cautious. "I dabble only when time allows. I am no master of it."
His lips curved, something bright flickering in his gaze—curiosity, admiration, perhaps even wonder. "That is humbling of you to say. Still, it is a talent I would not have expected… and one I would like to see. Come." He gestured toward the shop with an insistence that carried no room for refusal. "Choose a canvas. Paint Velmoura, if you wish. A place such as this deserves to be captured."
Zuleika hesitated, a protest forming at the edge of her thoughts—but then she looked again at the town, the sunlight spilling golden over river water, the vibrancy of fabrics in the breeze, the warmth etched into every face. Yes, this place deserved more than memory. It deserved permanence, colors bound to canvas by her own hand.
She allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. "Very well."
Matthew's answering smile was subtle but satisfied, as though he had won some small victory. With that, they stepped together into the shop.
The scent of oil and wood filled the air, pigments powdered in earthen jars catching the light like jewels. Brushes of varying size rested in neat bundles, and canvases leaned against one another along the back wall, their blank surfaces whispering of infinite possibilities. A gentle hush settled over the shop, broken only by the scratching sound of an artist bent over his work in the corner.
Zuleika felt something stir within her—something quiet, unguarded, untouched by politics or duty. She let her fingertips graze the edge of a canvas as though feeling the promise of what it might hold.
Matthew stood a step behind her, watching, but for once his presence did not feel like an intrusion.
When they stepped out of the art store, Zuleika's arms were already full of canvases and paints she had impulsively bought. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, completely absorbed in the thought of what she could create.
Prince Matthew, however, seemed distracted. His brows knitted together as his servant leaned in, whispering something into his ear. The words were enough to make his jaw tighten, his lips pressing into a thin line. He shot a glance at Zuleika, then said quietly, "We should head home. The sun is setting, and—" His voice trailed off, but the weight behind it left no room for argument.
Zuleika tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. "Is something wrong?" she asked, though the unease in his expression made her hesitate to press further. She decided to follow silently, sensing the urgency in his movements.
The carriage ride was quiet, the rhythmic clopping of horses the only sound in the tense air. Zuleika fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her curiosity finally overcoming her caution. ".... what was that about back there?"
He exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim light of the carriage. "There's been another attack at Revaz," he said, his voice low, measured, but edged with something that made Zuleika's heart tighten.
Zuleika's eyes widened. "Again? That's… I mean—how?"
Matthew's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching as he spoke. "It's the same group—the ones who abducted you and Princess Aquila before."
Her fingers clenched the edge of the seat, knuckles white. "So… what does that mean? Are we… in danger?"
Matthew turned his gaze fully to her, his expression a mixture of concern and authority. "The West is safer for now, but this is serious. His Imperial Majesty has ordered me to return immediately tomorrow. You and Princess Aquila will remain here at the residence until this matter is resolved. Captain Rhys will be summoned as well—he was left behind in the Capital for training, but he will come here to ensure your safety."
Zuleika's eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful. "So… we're staying here until this is resolved?" she asked, voice calm but firm. "I assume you have a plan."
Matthew's jaw tightened, but he allowed a faint nod. "Yes. The West is safer for now, and Captain Rhys will be summoned. But you must follow the orders of the Empire while this threat is dealt with."
A small, confident smile tugged at Zuleika's lips. "Orders, yes—but I'm not one to sit idle," she said. "If anyone thinks I'll just wait quietly while danger lurks elsewhere, they're mistaken."
Matthew's eyes softened at her resolve, though the tension in his own gaze remained. "I never doubted that," he said, his tone measured. "But some battles… you cannot fight alone. I'll make sure you have the protection you need."
Zuleika leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable but sharp. "Good. Then we do this my way and your way. No one underestimates the Princess of Nexus," she said, her voice carrying the edge of steel she was known for.
The carriage continued its journey through the streets, the sun dipping below the horizon in streaks of crimson and gold. Outside, shadows stretched long over the city, but inside, the quiet was purposeful, heavy with plans yet unspoken. Both knew a storm was coming—but Zuleika's resolve was unshakable, a calm before the battle that no threat could intimidate.