Two weeks had passed since Aquila's arrival, and the season had already shifted into winter. The corridors of Coral Palace felt colder now, though rumors from the Empire of Feltogora burned hot—word spread that the rebels still had not been taken down.
And in just three days, the kingdom would celebrate the twins' birthday—Elijah and Steven.
But tonight? Chaos.
"Zuleika!" the King's voice thundered down the hall.
Moments earlier, they had been discussing succession—who should inherit the throne. Zuleika, of course, wanted nothing to do with it. Her solution? Run.
Two knights gave chase. Zuleika's grin widened as her slippers slapped against the polished floor. She darted down the corridor like a fox fleeing hounds—until more knights appeared ahead.
"Oh, shit." She skidded, pivoted, and sprinted the other way. Now the chase grew louder, boots echoing behind her.
"Fuck." She cursed under her breath as she rounded a corner—only to find a dead end. Her silver eyes flicked left and right—two doors. No time. She darted right, slipped inside, and shut the door softly, heart pounding.
She leaned against it, gasping for breath, until a voice froze her in place.
"…What the hell are you doing?"
Her gaze snapped up. Aquila stood there, damp hair clinging to her shoulders as she rubbed it dry with a towel. A silk robe hung loose over her frame, one pale shoulder exposed under the lamplight.
Zuleika gulped. Her mouth opened, but no words came—only the sound of armored fists pounding the door behind her.
"Princess Aquila?" a knight called.
Both women's eyes flew to the door.
Zuleika flailed her arms in panic, gesturing wildly—an exaggerated "X" with her hands, begging Aquila to say nothing. Aquila rolled her eyes but strode calmly to the door. Just as she cracked it open, Zuleika hissed, "Don't—!"
Too late. Aquila's hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her.
The knight bowed. "We apologize for disturbing you, Your Highness. But have you perhaps seen Princess Zuleika?"
"No. I haven't." Aquila's voice was like ice.
The knight hesitated, eyes flicking past her into the chamber. "If you would, may we see ins—"
"Is this how Nexus Knights are trained?" Aquila's tone cut like a blade. "To barge into a lady's chamber at night, when she wears nothing but a silk robe?"
The knight's face turned scarlet. He dropped his head in a bow so fast his helm nearly clanged against his chestplate.
"N-no, Your Highness. We beg your pardon. Forgive us for the intrusion."
Without another word, he backed away, and the clamor of armored footsteps retreated down the hall.
Click. The door shut. Silence returned.
Aquila let out a slow, irritated breath, then turned—only to find Zuleika's wide crimson eyes locked shamelessly on her bare shoulder.
Aquila arched a brow. "Eyes on me," she commanded, her voice low, her hand still pressed to Zuleika's lips.
Zuleika blinked innocently, lips pursing against Aquila's palm as if to protest, but she didn't look away.
Aquila's mouth twitched—the faintest hint of amusement, though her gaze stayed sharp.
"So? What did you do this time?" Aquila asked, finally letting her hand fall from Zuleika's mouth as she walked back toward her vanity.
"I didn't do anything," Zuleika said, stretching her arms overhead like a cat who had just woken from a nap.
"Father wanted to talk about the throne, so I just… ran away."
Aquila sighed, standing before the mirror and rubbing at her temple.
"Why do you hate inheriting the throne so much? Don't you want to lead Nexus into peace?"
Zuleika flopped down onto the bed as if it belonged to her. "I don't want responsibilities."
Aquila's eyes flicked to her in the mirror. "And your sister?"
"She doesn't want it either," Zuleika replied without hesitation.
Aquila turned her head slightly, brows knitting. "Are you serious?"
"Very serious," Zuleika groaned, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "If I'm correct, none of us—my siblings and me included—want the throne."
For a long second, Aquila just stared at her reflection, lips parting as if in disbelief. All her life she had seen royals claw and bleed for power—yet here was an entire family running from it.
"…Carefree," she muttered at last, sitting before the mirror.
Zuleika rose from the bed and padded closer, stopping just behind her. "I've been wanting to ask this," she said curiously. "What shade is your hair, exactly?"
Aquila met her eyes through the reflection. "Lavender."
Zuleika's mouth fell open. "What?! I thought it was pink." She squinted as if trying to solve a great mystery, pressing a finger to her chin in mock seriousness.
Aquila exhaled, already sensing mischief brewing. She reached for her comb—only for Zuleika to snatch it first.
Aquila's brows furrowed. "…What are you doing?"
"Can I? Pleaaase?" Zuleika begged, clutching the comb like stolen treasure. She tilted her head, eyes wide with ridiculous puppy-like pleading.
Aquila wanted to smack her. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath.
Zuleika beamed. "Yipeee! I'll take that as a yes."
She carefully began brushing Aquila's hair, her touch unexpectedly gentle.
"Ohh, you have naturally wavy hair…" Zuleika murmured with fascination.
"I thought it was just from braiding," she added softly.
"It was straight when I was a child," Aquila replied evenly. "It only started to wave when I became a teenager."
Zuleika hummed. "It suits you. Gives you this… mysterious, elegant vibe."
Aquila's lips twitched. "You make it sound like I planned it."
"Of course you didn't. You were just blessed by the gods of good hair." Zuleika leaned a little closer, studying the strands with mock reverence.
"Honestly, if you weren't a princess, I'd think you were some mythical spirit wandering around to make mortals jealous."
Aquila's eyes narrowed in the mirror. "…Do you always talk this much when holding a comb?"
"Only when I'm enchanted," Zuleika said with a grin.
Aquila didn't bother replying to Zuleika's silly remark about her hair. She only rolled her eyes, though a small thought crossed her mind—Good for her. Zuleika is finally back to her usual self.
The carefree smile, the constant chatter, even the teasing—it was all proof that the shadows of her relapse rarely lingered anymore. And despite herself, Aquila felt… relieved.
Her train of thought was interrupted when Zuleika spoke again.
"Aquila, do you have a type?"
Aquila blinked at her reflection. "A what?"
"A type," Zuleika repeated, grinning as she ran the comb gently through lavender strands. "You know? Like your ideal partner."
"…Why do you ask?" Aquila's tone was suspicious, but her reflection betrayed a flicker of curiosity.
"Hm? I'm just curious," Zuleika said innocently, though her eyes sparkled like a child prying into a secret.
Aquila went quiet. The truth was, she had never once thought about it—not seriously. Romance had been a foreign concept to her, something distant and unnecessary. She had never once felt her heart stir for anyone.
"Maybe…" she began softly, surprising even herself. "…Someone powerful enough."
Zuleika raised a brow, leaning forward with interest. "Powerful? What, like muscle guys? I never took you for that kind of person."
Aquila's silver eyes narrowed in the mirror, shooting her a glare sharp enough to silence the teasing.
"Powerful enough," she clarified, her voice quieter this time, "to take me away whenever I want to run away."
Zuleika froze for a second, her hand stalling mid-brush. Then, slowly, she continued combing, her smile dimming into something gentler—something almost unreadable.
"…I see."
Then, out of nowhere, Aquila added in her usual bluntness, "I also prefer it if they're a leader of an Empire or Kingdom."
Zuleika blinked, then burst out laughing. "So what—you're saying if I suddenly agree to take the throne of Nexus, you'll like me?" she teased, expecting Aquila to scoff or ignore her.
"Probably," Aquila answered without hesitation.
Zuleika froze, her hand still tangled in Aquila's hair. "Eh?!"
Her crimson eyes snapped to the mirror, catching the sight of Aquila's unreadable silver gaze staring right back at her. For a heartbeat, it felt like her lungs forgot how to work.
Aquila held the look just long enough for Zuleika's face to turn a deeper shade of red before she broke away first. She stood gracefully, plucked the comb from Zuleika's hand, and set it neatly on the table.
"That's enough," she said softly, her tone calm—too calm, as if nothing had happened.
Zuleika opened and closed her mouth, searching for words that simply wouldn't come. "Oh…" was all she managed, her voice awkward and faint.
The sight alone was worth it. Amusement flickered at the corner of Aquila's lips. She leaned down ever so slightly, her voice low, deliberate.
"Why? Did you want me to say no?"
Zuleika's cheeks flamed even hotter. "T-that's not—!"
Aquila cut her off with a quiet chuckle, straightening again. "You're far too easy to tease," she said, smugness practically dripping from her tone.
Zuleika puffed her cheeks, glaring at her like an indignant child. "You're horrible!"
"Am I?" Aquila tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Then why is your face red, Princess?"
"I—It's not red!" Zuleika stammered, covering her cheeks with both hands, only confirming the opposite.
For a lingering moment, Zuleika's gaze fell—unwillingly—onto Aquila's lips.
Her throat went dry. A fleeting thought passed through her mind, quiet and shameful: They look…soft. The moment it registered, her eyes widened and she instantly looked away, horrified at herself.
Aquila caught the slip immediately. Her sharp gaze had tracked the whole thing, though she chose not to say a word. She could almost taste the tension between them, warm and fragile, yet she didn't lift a finger to break it. She only watched.
Zuleika stood abruptly, tugging at her collar as though it had grown too tight.
"I—I'll take my leave," she said softly, trying to keep her composure, though the flush on her face betrayed her.
It was winter outside, yet she felt as though she were burning up from within.
Aquila's eyes followed her retreat until the door shut.
Silence lingered. Then, a quiet chuckle slipped from her lips.
"What was that?" she murmured, her voice carrying a rare lilt of amusement.
The image of Zuleika's gaze—hovering like a child staring at forbidden sweets—made Aquila's lips curl into a quiet smile. She replayed the scene in her head, the hesitation, the faint parting of lips, the way Zuleika's eyes had darted away in panic the moment she realized what she was doing.
Aquila wasn't flustered in the slightest; in fact, it was the opposite. The memory left her oddly satisfied, like she'd stumbled upon a delightful secret. Amused. Entertained. And—though she would never admit it aloud—unusually pleased.
Leaning back in her chair, she brushed a hand through her lavender hair, letting out a soft exhale. She's hopeless… utterly hopeless.
Still, something about it tugged at her—something faintly endearing. She tilted her head, silver eyes reflecting her own faint smirk in the mirror.
"How curious…" she murmured, voice laced with quiet amusement. Her smile lingered, sly and knowing. "So very curious."