The residence slept under a velvet sky. The lanterns outside flickered faintly, their glow soft, almost fragile against the vast stretch of night. From the quiet hallways to the gently rustling curtains, the air whispered calm. Too calm. Peaceful—no, crafted to be peaceful, like a lullaby meant to blind one's senses.
In Princess Aquila's chamber, moonlight poured pale through the balcony doors, spilling across the polished floor and draping the bed in silver. She lay still beneath the sheets, her silhouette a quiet outline against the cushions.
Unbeknownst to her, a shadow crept at her balcony. A figure, cloaked from head to toe in black, scaled the stone wall with the silence of a serpent. His boots barely touched the marble as he reached the door. With gloved fingers, he slipped the latch open—no creak, no sound. Only the steady rhythm of his breath echoed beneath the hood.
His gaze swept the room—slow, deliberate—until it fixed upon the bed.
The hooded man's lips curved in grim satisfaction. From within his coat, he drew a dagger, its blade glinting faintly in the moonlight. Dark liquid clung to its edge—the unmistakable sheen of poison. His breath deepened, ragged, heavy with anticipation.
Step by step, he approached the bed, the tip of the dagger angled toward the figure lying helplessly beneath the covers.
One strike.
The blade plunged down, piercing fabric, body, silence.
Twice.
Again, swift and merciless.
Thrice.
The knife sunk deep and stayed, quivering with the force of his strike.
The assassin exhaled, a low chuckle rattling in his throat. "Too easy," he muttered, lips curling into a wicked smile.
Straightening, he wrenched his hand free of the dagger, ready to vanish back into the shadows of the night.
But before he could turn—
Smack!
A fist collided with his face. The impact cracked like a thunderclap against the still air. His hood snapped back, blood spraying as his eyes rolled upward. He stumbled, staggered, then collapsed heavily onto the cold floor, the wicked smile still frozen on his lips.
Unmoving. Unconscious.
And in that instant, the "peaceful" night shattered.
Earlier that evening, when they had returned to the residence, Aquila had frowned at Zuleika's sudden suggestion.
"You want me to sleep in your room?" Aquila arched a brow, her voice edged with suspicion.
Zuleika leaned closer, lowering her voice as though sharing a grave secret, though her eyes glimmered with mischief. "No, Princess. I mean it literally. Sleep in my room tonight."
Aquila's frown deepened. "And why, pray tell? Planning to steal another kiss under the guise of protection?"
Zuleika clutched her chest with mock injury. "Hah! You wound me, Your Highness. I'm trying to save your life, not your lips."
"…Then explain."
With exaggerated seriousness, Zuleika tapped the table between them. "We'll bait him. Someone will come. I'll have Cess make a decoy in your bed. Rhys will stand guard in the blindspot by the balcony. When the fool strikes, he'll think he's rid of you—then…" she snapped her fingers sharply, "…we'll have him."
Aquila studied her in silence for a beat, then leaned back against the chair, sipping from her cup of warm milk. Her lips curled faintly, silver eyes glinting. "You're awfully confident. What if your brilliant plan fails, hm?"
Zuleika's crimson eyes narrowed into a glare. She leaned forward, indignant. "It won't fail. I swear on my future grave."
"…That's a terrible thing to swear on."
"Then I swear on your temper," Zuleika shot back without missing a beat, smirking slyly.
Aquila's cheek twitched. She set her cup down with deliberate calm. "…You really do want me to kill you one day."
And so the plan unfolded.
By the time the assassin had slithered into the chamber, Cess's decoy lay beneath the covers—a carefully stuffed silhouette with pillows for limbs, layered with blankets, and crowned with a wig close enough to Aquila's light purple hair that, in the dark, the difference vanished.
At the far-left corner, Captain Rhys waited in utter silence, body pressed against the shadows of the chamber's blindspot. His breathing was steady, measured. His hand rested at his side, waiting for the strike.
It had all played out as Zuleika predicted.
Now—
The aftermath lay before them. The intruder, unconscious, his hands bound tightly behind his back, lay sprawled against the polished marble floor. A streak of blood trailed from his mouth where Rhys's fist had landed.
Captain Rhys gave the ropes one final tug before straightening. He bowed slightly, his voice calm. "The intruder is secured, Your Highness."
Across the chamber, the two princesses sat like it was no more than a mild disturbance in their evening.
Aquila reclined elegantly on a couch, her silk-white nightgown flowing around her like mist. In her hand, a porcelain cup of chocolate milk steamed faintly, the rich scent sweet against the room's tense air. Her silver eyes glinted, but her expression was the picture of restraint.
Across from her, Zuleika sat at the small table, chin propped lazily on her palm. Her black silk robe hung loosely about her shoulders, her eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. She looked less like a conspirator who had just foiled an assassination and more like a woman two breaths away from falling asleep.
On the bed, Cess moved deftly, dismantling the decoy. She tossed aside the pillow-limbs with faint amusement, tugged the wig off the dummy's head, and shook it once. The strands gleamed faintly, clearly not Aquila's shade of silver-white. She sniffed and muttered under her breath.
"Worked well enough for someone so stupid… or so desperate."
Zuleika cracked one eye open at that. "Creative as always, Cess. You might have a future career as a forger of people."
"Hardly a compliment, milady," Cess replied, wrinkling her nose, but the faint smirk on her lips betrayed her pride in her handiwork.
Aquila exhaled sharply, setting her cup down with a soft clink. Her gaze shifted from the tied assassin to Zuleika's lazy posture. "So your ridiculous plan actually worked."
Zuleika's lips quirked upward, smug. "Ridiculous? Effective, Princess."
"Barely."
"Utterly."
Their eyes met across the faint candlelight—Aquila's silver glint sharp as ice, Zuleika's crimson gaze warm with triumph and mischief.
Captain Rhys cleared his throat softly, as though reminding them both that there are far more important things inside the room.
Zuleika leaned back in her chair, arms folding lazily over her chest. The faint smirk tugging at her lips didn't quite hide the glint of seriousness in her crimson eyes.
"So, Princess," she drawled, tilting her head toward the unconscious man sprawled on the floor. "What do you plan to do with our little gift? A tongue like his can spill everything with just a… gentle nudge. Won't take much before he confesses the Duke's part in this."
Aquila set her cup down, fingers lingering at its rim. Her silver eyes cut sharply toward Zuleika, colder now, sharper than steel.
"I don't need his confession," she said, voice even but laced with venom. "He raised a hand against me. That alone seals his fate. Anyone who dares point a blade at me will not live to point another."
Her words fell like a decree, steady and merciless.
Zuleika's lashes lowering. "Ah… there it is." She tapped a finger against her cheek, almost delighted. "The Revazkerio blood speaking."
Aquila's brows drew together, but she didn't deny it. Her voice dropped lower, colder.
"If the Duke believes I'll bow my head and wait for proof to be polished and presented like some noble's trinket, he's a greater fool than this assassin. I don't tolerate threats. Not here. Not anywhere."
For a moment, silence lingered, heavy and dangerous.
Then Zuleika chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I almost forgot. Cruelty runs in your blood. The Revazkerio way—strike first, make the world remember why it should never cross you."
Her crimson eyes flicked briefly to the unconscious assassin, then back to Aquila with a look that was part fond, part mocking.
"Even if you don't ask the Imperial Palace, I have no doubt they'll support you. Why wouldn't they? A Revazkerio showing mercy is unnatural. But a Revazkerio showing cruelty… that is exactly as it should be."
Aquila didn't answer. Her fingers merely tightened against the porcelain handle of her cup, knuckles pale, her silence saying more than words.
Zuleika lifted her hand and gave a lazy flick of her fingers.
Captain Rhys bowed in silence, immediately hauling the limp assassin over his shoulder before vanishing out the door without another word.
The room grew quiet again.
Zuleika stretched her arms overhead with a languid yawn, standing up from her chair. "Well, that's that. Judgement can wait until the sun decides to bless us again. For now—rest."
She turned toward the bed, her crimson eyes pausing on the crumpled sheets, still stained by the assassin's presence. Then her gaze slid to the balcony doors, shadows spilling from the night beyond. Slowly, her eyes returned to Aquila.
Aquila arched a brow at her silent scrutiny. "What?"
Zuleika's lips curled, not quite a smile. "You'll sleep in my chamber tonight. At least until this little issue with the Duke is settled."
Aquila's brows furrowed immediately, sharp silver narrowing at her. "I don't need—"
But Zuleika cut in smoothly, her tone casual but her reasoning striking where she knew it mattered. "The bed here is tainted." She gestured toward it lazily. "You grew up in the Royal Palace, didn't you? You know the meaning of purity in a chamber. Would you rather lie on sheets that an assassin tried to kill you on, or in my room where no blade has touched?"
Aquila's lips pressed together, her jaw tightening. For a beat, she said nothing, her pride warring with her distaste. Then, with a sharp exhale, she rolled her eyes and rose to her feet, silk gown brushing softly against the floor. Without a word, she strode out of the chamber.
Zuleika's laugh followed after her, low and amused. "Ah, your temper could burn a kingdom," she teased as she trailed behind, hands folding at her back. "Good thing I'm fireproof."
Together, the two disappeared down the hall toward Zuleika's chamber, the moonlight painting long shadows behind them.
The chamber was still, save for the faint glow of moonlight sneaking through the curtains. Zuleika's bed, wider than most, still looked comically too small for the two of them—because each princess had claimed her own edge, leaving a gulf of untouched space in the middle.
Zuleika flopped onto her side dramatically, her crimson eyes peeking across the expanse. "You know," she began, her voice hushed but mischievous, "for someone who I grew up as an Imperial Princess, you're really bad at sharing a bed. Look at that gap. It's like you're afraid I'll bite."
Aquila shifted on her own side, back still half-turned. "I'm not afraid. I just don't want to be near you."
Zuleika gasped softly, clutching her chest in mock injury. "Cold. Heartless. Cruel." She turned onto her back and spread her arms. "Fine, if you roll off the bed in your sleep, don't come crawling to me."
Aquila snorted faintly into her pillow. "I'll manage."
For a while, silence crept in—comfortably, like a blanket. But then Zuleika's voice cut through again, quieter this time. "When I was younger…"
Aquila's head turned, just slightly, silver eyes peeking at her through the dark.
Zuleika traced the edge of her pillow with a finger, her expression softer than usual. "I used to sneak out of my room at night. Climb the roofs. Everyone thought I was asleep, but I just wanted to see how far the world stretched. It made me feel… free."
There was a beat of silence. Then Aquila hummed and said flatly, "Not interested."
Zuleika's crimson eyes went wide. She bolted upright, glaring across the gulf. "Excuse me?!"
Aquila rolled lazily onto her back, arms crossed over her stomach, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "I said, not interested."
Zuleika scowled, leaning toward her now. "You will listen. I don't share things like this often, you know!"
"Oh? Is this supposed to be an honor?" Aquila teased, her silver gaze gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
"Yes!" Zuleika huffed, crossing her arms like a sulking child. "So shut up and let me finish."
Zuleika huffed once more, then finally laid back down, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she spoke, voice softer, thoughtful.
"When I was ten, I climbed all the way to the highest tower in the Nexus palace. It was dangerous—slippery tiles, sharp winds. If I fell, I wouldn't be here telling you this." A small chuckle slipped past her lips.
"But when I reached the top… gods, Aquila, the sea looked endless. Like it could swallow everything. And for the first time, I realized what it meant… to bear the weight of protecting it. It wasn't just a duty. It was a promise."
Her fingers brushed absently at her chest, where her heartbeat pulsed steady beneath the silk. "I thought—if I ever falter, the sea will remember. It will devour me. That's why I swore to never be weak."
Aquila's silver eyes softened almost imperceptibly in the dim light. She didn't speak, simply listening as Zuleika's voice grew slower, quieter.
"…but that night was also the first time I wondered…" Her eyelids fluttered, heavy. "…if I'd ever… be free of it…"
Her voice trailed into silence.
Aquila blinked. "?"
No answer.
She turned her head.
There Zuleika lay, crimson eyes closed, lips parted ever so slightly, breathing even and slow. She had fallen asleep halfway through her own story.
Aquila's brows furrowed sharply, her chest rising with a long exhale. "Wow," she muttered, glaring at the sleeping girl. "You drag me into your so-called heartfelt story and then abandon it midway? Absurd."
Zuleika shifted faintly in her sleep, a small pout forming on her lips as if she were still sulking even in dreams.
Aquila dragged a hand down her face, muffling a sound that was half-frustration, half-amusement "Truly… annoying."
She turned back to her side of the bed, shutting her eyes.