The morning light spilled across the marble streets of Revaz, the capital of the Feltogora Empire. By the time Princess Zuleika finally ventured out, the sun had long since climbed to its zenith, gilding the city with a brilliance almost too bright to look upon.
Today, she had resolved to shop for souvenirs. Soon, she would be returning home, and though she had endured many burdens in this foreign court, she would not leave empty-handed. Her purpose here was political, nothing more—an agreement for Nexus to gain access to the mineral mines of Feltogora. Beyond that, she owed this Empire nothing, not even the courtesy of entertaining its Crown Prince's affections.
Her thoughts were broken when Cess, her ever-dutiful maid, held up an item from a nearby display.
"What do you think of this, Your Highness?" Cess asked softly, her tone bright with anticipation.
In her hand gleamed a pair of round spectacles, finely wrought with a delicate silver chain attached. "I daresay Prince Elijah might look well with these."
Zuleika's gaze lingered on the glasses before she gave a small nod. "Mm. He will like it," she agreed, her voice even, yet the faintest warmth touched her words.
Cess's face lit up at once. "Then let us purchase it, Princess."
Zuleika offered no outward smile, but as she watched her maid handle the exchange with such care, she thought silently to herself: I must find something for Cess as well.
When they departed the souvenir shop, the brightness of the midday sun stung Zuleika's eyes. She raised her hand slightly, narrowing her gaze against the golden glare. It was then her eyes fell upon the boutique she had been unable to visit before—the finest clothing house in Revaz. A faint frown pulled at her lips as memory stirred: the last time she had tried to step inside, a meddling noblewoman had ruined the moment. With a sigh, she turned her steps toward it.
Rhys, walking dutifully at her side with an armful of carefully wrapped parcels, caught the change in her expression. "What troubles you, Your Highness?" he asked, his voice respectful, though his sharp eyes missed little.
"Nothing of importance," Zuleika replied, her tone clipped yet calm. "I intend to look inside the boutique."
Rhys gave a short bow of acknowledgment. "As you wish, Princess. I will see these delivered to the carriage and return to you shortly."
Zuleika inclined her head. "Very well."
Together with Cess, she stepped into the boutique. The air inside was cool, faintly perfumed with lavender and roses. The floor gleamed with polished oak, and tall mirrors framed in gilded trim reflected the bright fabrics that adorned every stand. Mannequins draped in silk and velvet stood like silent ladies-in-waiting along the walls.
They were immediately received by attendants, each bowing gracefully as they ushered the Princess to a cushioned seat of deep blue velvet. A porcelain tray of steaming tea and sugared almonds was promptly set before her.
"Good morrow, my lady," one of the attendants said with practiced courtesy, her voice smooth as silk. "Pray, do you seek a particular fashion this day?"
Zuleika rested her chin lightly against her hand, considering. "Something of light weave, soft upon the skin," she said, her words slow but precise. "In shades of blue—be it azure or midnight. Trouser or gown matters little; bring forth what you have."
The attendant dipped into a curtsy, gesturing for her fellows to fetch the requested garments. Another, wordless and quick, refreshed the tea and adjusted the porcelain plate to be within Zuleika's easy reach.
Behind her, Cess stood alert, her eyes gleaming as they darted from shelf to shelf, drinking in the richness of the boutique with childlike eagerness.
Zuleika leaned back against the velvet cushion, her elbow resting lazily on the armrest as she studied the array of garments displayed before her. Silk in soft hues of blue shimmered under the sunlight that filtered through the boutique's high windows. For once, she thought, this moment was hers—quiet, unbothered, and almost pleasant.
Hopefully, no one will ruin this day, she mused inwardly, exhaling in quiet relief.
The bell above the door chimed.
Zuleika's brow twitched. Of course.
As if summoned by her own curse, Lady Solemn swept into the boutique with all the haughty flourish of a cat certain it owned the room. Her presence was loud even in silence, her gown rustling like an announcement, her chin tipped high as though the world beneath her feet was barely worthy to be walked upon.
But Zuleika, blissfully unaware, lifted her cup and took a delicate sip of tea.
It was Cess who noticed. She stiffened, her cheerful expression vanishing, and took a cautious step toward the Princess. Bending low, she whispered close to Zuleika's ear.
Zuleika's lashes lowered as she tasted the tea, its bitterness softened by a trace of honey. Her eyes flicked toward where Cess's gaze directed her.
"Who?" she asked coolly, as if the matter was of the least importance in the world.
Cess's lips parted, incredulous. "Your Highness—surely you cannot have forgotten? That noble lady!" she hissed in the barest whisper, her tone urgent.
Zuleika finally deigned to glance at her maid, her expression unimpressed, almost bored. She blinked once, twice, then set her cup neatly back onto its saucer.
"Oh." She leaned back, completely unbothered. "I have."
Cess gawked at her mistress, whispering more harshly now, "Princess, you truly forgot? After everything she—"
Zuleika's eyes drifted lazily back to the silks. Her expression did not shift in the slightest, as though Lady Solemn's existence was nothing more than a passing insect.
The fragile peace Zuleika had carved for herself shattered the instant that wretched woman stepped inside.
Lady Solemn's sharp eyes scanned the boutique until they fell upon the serene figure of Zuleika with her maid. At once, memories of her previous humiliation—sharp and humiliating as a slap—flooded her mind. Her jaw tightened, teeth grinding, but then her lips curled into something cruel. An idea.
She snapped her fan shut with a crack that sliced through the quiet chatter of the boutique.
"Why is there another peasant in here?" Lady Solemn's voice rang shrill, calculated to command attention.
"Was the last time we met not enough for you to comprehend that only those who live in true luxury deserve to shop here?"
Her words slithered through the air, and the staff froze. But across the room, Zuleika didn't so much as flinch. She continued sipping her tea, her attention drifting instead to the staff before her.
"Do you have any other design of that one?" she asked smoothly, her tone a lazy ripple of calm against Lady Solemn's storm.
The staff jolted at being addressed, glancing nervously at the noblewoman behind them. "Y-yes, my lady. At once."
But Lady Solemn's fan snapped open again, fluttering in a calculated gesture as her glare cut like a knife.
"Do you truly mean to parade every design in this boutique before this—this no-name nobody?"
Her words hissed like venom, and the shopkeeper stiffened. He bowed low, his voice low and unsteady. "Lady Solemn… she is still a customer."
"So?" Lady Solemn snapped back, her arrogance laced with poison. She tilted her head, her fan hiding the cruel smile spreading across her lips.
"If you do not get her out of my sight this instant, I will never again spend a single coin in this establishment."
Gasps rippled quietly among the staff, the weight of her words settling heavily. Lady Solemn was an exclusive patron, one whose purse strings they relied on—and this veiled stranger, Zuleika, had only visited twice. To choose between them…
The shopkeeper's gaze darted toward the staff still assisting Zuleika. Uneasy, the staff's hands trembled slightly as they set aside the fabric.
Zuleika, however, sat perfectly still. Her chin rested against her palm, her silver spoon tracing idle circles in her tea as though the drama unfolding before her were no more interesting than a breeze outside the window.
Lady Solemn's voice cut once more, sharp and insistent. "Well? Shouldn't you start moving?"
The shopkeeper swallowed, taking one tentative step forward. His lips parted to speak—
Cling!
The bell above the boutique door rang again, clear and bright as it swung open.
Aquila stepped inside, her dress draped in elegant folds, hair loosened behind her with only a flower pin to tame it. Behind her followed the head maid, adjusting her glasses as she entered.
At once the staff bowed deeply. Lady Solemn's eyes widened before she hurried to dip her head.
"Y-Your Imperial Highness!" she stammered.
Aquila's eyes swept over her coldly, then shifted to the shopkeeper.
"Is there anything new today?" she asked, tone flat, almost bored.
"Y-yes, Your Highness," the shopkeeper replied, though his hands fidgeted behind the counter.
Aquila frowned faintly at the tension in the room. Her gaze wandered — then stopped. There, lounging with crossed legs and a cup of tea, sat Zuleika in a simple dress, looking anything but royal, her expression bored as if she owned the space.
Lady Solemn followed Aquila's line of sight and seized her chance. She straightened, her voice loud.
"Your Imperial Highness, surely you see how out of place that woman is. This boutique is no place for nameless strays."
The shop grew still. Zuleika's eyes flicked lazily toward them but she did not bother to rise, only sipped her tea.
Aquila turned her head back to Lady Solemn, gaze sharp. "Out of place?" she asked, softly, dangerously.
"Yes, exactly!" Lady Solemn pressed on, fan snapping shut. "I was only protecting the dignity of this establishment. She does not belong here, and yet the staff indulge her as if she—"
"Careful." Aquila's voice cut across hers, low and cold.
Lady Solemn's mouth snapped shut, her face paling.
"Do you think," Aquila continued, her tone dripping with quiet scorn, "that your presence here grants you the authority to decide who belongs and who does not?"
"I-I only wished to maintain proper standards," Lady Solemn tried weakly, "this… woman—"
Zuleika smirked and leaned back in her seat, eyes glinting with mischief. "Go on," she murmured, almost amused.
Aquila's gaze flicked to her for the briefest moment, then returned to Lady Solemn.
"What makes you so certain," she asked coolly, "that the woman you insulted is beneath you?"
The words hit like ice water. Lady Solemn faltered, stammering. "S-she… she has no title, no house—"
"No title?" Aquila tilted her head, expression flat as glass. "Then perhaps it is your vision that is lacking. Because I see her clearly."
Zuleika chuckled low in her throat, placing her cup back onto the saucer with a soft clink.
"Mm, then perhaps you should explain it to her, Your Highness," she teased, lips curling in amusement.
Aquila gave her a sidelong look — equal parts irritation and restraint — but said nothing yet. The silence itself pressed heavier than words.
Aquila sighed, rolling her eyes at Zuleika's figure lazily sat there, one leg crossed over the other, sipping tea as though the chaos of the room had nothing to do with her.
Carefree as ever, she thought, exasperated.
Across the room, Lady Solemn trembled with anger, her eyes locked on Zuleika.
Who is this woman? And why does Her Imperial Highness speak of her as if she were her equal? The thought gnawed at her pride. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as heat burned in her chest.
Then Cess leaned forward from behind her mistress, voice clear and ringing for all to hear:
"Your Highness, shall we take our leave for another store?"
The word struck like a hammer.
The staff stiffened, breath catching. A chill ran down their spines. Your Highness? Their minds repeated it over and over.
Lady Solemn froze, her fan slipping slightly in her hand.
Your Highness? Who? Who is this woman?
Her pulse thudded as she whipped her head back toward Zuleika—
And in that moment, Aquila rose and walked with quiet grace to the couch opposite Zuleika. She sat down, one arm draping elegantly over the side, her sharp eyes narrowing on the relaxed figure before her.
"This is because you always dress so casually whenever you step outside the palace," Aquila muttered, low, her irritation breaking through.
Zuleika chuckled softly, the sound smooth, teasing. "Because it is summer, and I have no desire to suffocate in heavy fabric."
Aquila sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"You forget, Zuleika—you carry not only your name, but the reputation of the Imperial family when you walk among the people."
Zuleika leaned back further, lips pursing into a pout, her voice feather-light with defiance.
"No, I do not."
The words hung in the air like sparks.
Aquila's eyes darkened; she glared at her again, her silence pressing heavier than scolding words.
The boutique was utterly still.
Zuleika? The name rippled through the staff's minds like a revelation.
Lady Solemn's stomach dropped, her lips parting as her breath caught.
Zuleika? As in… the Princess of the Kingdom of Nexus? The Zuleika Livia Yekosta Vasiliou?
Her fan slipped fully from her trembling fingers.