Ever since we were children, Zuleika and I were always together. Our elder sister, Stel, was often away—drawn to adventures and wild journeys. Her personality couldn't be more different from Zuleika's. If Zuleika was carefree and playful, Stel always wore that calm, unreadable mask. Yet I loved them both deeply. I loved my family more than anything.
So when the day came that Zuleika returned from Feltogora in tears, my heart shattered. I watched her isolate herself from the world, flinching at every touch, shrinking from every hand that tried to comfort her. It broke me. My dearest sister, who once radiated light wherever she went, had come back to us broken and terrified.
When Mother finally told me what had truly happened, I was furious—furious at the empire for what they had done, furious at myself for being powerless, unable to protect her, unable to give her the comfort she so desperately needed.
For a month, she never once left her chamber. Every morning, Mother would visit to make sure she at least ate her breakfast. Then, after a month, Zuleika tried—hesitantly—to walk around the palace again. But from time to time, she would collapse into trembling fits, her body betraying the fear she tried to suppress. And every time, I hated it—hated standing there helpless, watching how the Revazkerio had broken my sister.
Two months passed. Little by little, she seemed stronger. She laughed again, smiled again, as if she were trying to gather up the pieces of herself. I was proud of her. Then the third month came.
Stel returned home, bringing with her an outsider—and not just any outsider, but the Princess of Feltogora herself: Princess Aquila Faye Lavezki Revazkerio.
At first, I despised her. The moment Zuleika laid eyes on her, she trembled. That night, my sister locked herself in her chambers once more, as if all her progress had been ripped away. Mother spoke with Aquila after that, and we learned the princess had nothing to do with what happened in Feltogora. But could anyone blame me for still resenting her? She bore the Revazkerio name, and that was enough.
And yet—one day, I saw Zuleika with her. Laughing. Smiling. A smile so bright, so unguarded, that I couldn't deny it: Aquila made her happy. If Zuleika forgave her, then I could try, too.
Later, at a tea gathering with Mother, Stel, Zuleika, and Aquila, they spoke of flowers. I was surprised—Aquila, who was rumored to be the "Ice Princess," spoke with such warmth and gentleness when it came to flowers, as if her love for them came from deep within. But what caught my eye was something else—the way she kept sneaking glances at Zuleika. At first, I brushed it off. Perhaps Zuleika was simply the only familiar face to her in this kingdom. But then I noticed: her glances lingered.
When tea ended, Mother offered to show Aquila our garden. Stel and Zuleika remained at the table, arguing playfully about who should inherit the throne—since, clearly, neither of them wanted it. I followed behind Mother and Aquila until, at some point, Mother excused herself to check on something. Suddenly, it was just Aquila and me.
The silence was thick, though not uncomfortable for me. I was used to silence. I glanced at her. Even in a simple dress, her beauty stood out. The way her light-purple hair fell loose down her back, the delicate curve of her lashes every time she blinked.
"Princess Aquila, do you have a favorite flower?" I asked.
She turned her head slightly toward me, her lips parting. "I do. It's called Scarlet Sage." She smiled softly.
"The red one?" I asked. She looked faintly surprised but quickly returned to composure.
"Yes. I'm surprised—you know of it. Few people do."
I chuckled lightly. "Mother and I love gardening, so I know a lot of flowers. I can't talk about it with Zuleika, though. She prefers hobbies that keep her moving rather than sitting still."
"Ah… I see," she said softly, her gaze lowering as though lost in thought.
I tilted my head, then asked suddenly, "What do you think of my sister?"
Her shoulders twitched. She blinked, clearly startled, before answering, "I think she's… a weird one?" Her words stumbled out, uncertain if it was truly an answer.
"A weird one," I echoed with a laugh. But then, I noticed it—the way her eyes softened, her lips pressing together, her gaze drifting past me.
I shifted slightly, following where her eyes lingered. They were fixed on the table, on Zuleika.
My lips parted.
"…Do you like my sister?" I asked bluntly.
Aquila's head snapped toward me. Her cheeks flushed, betraying her even as she tried to compose herself.
"M-me? Like Zuleika?" she stammered. "Of course not!"
She said it firmly, but her expression betrayed her. Her face couldn't lie, even if her words could.
"Of course," I chuckled quietly.
But I knew. I knew that look. The same look my parents once had in their eyes. That gaze—tender, unshakable—was now aimed at my dearest sister.
I exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Oh, sister… what have you done to this princess?
I could only imagine what Father would think if he ever found out. I'd wager a hundred gold coins he'd faint on the spot.