"Zuleika."
"Hm?"
"You stink. Get away from me," Aquila complained flatly, wrinkling her nose as Zuleika hugged her from behind.
"What!? You're rude!" Zuleika pouted but stubbornly tightened her arms around her, refusing to let go.
Aquila's patience was thinning. Ever since what happened on the Twins' birthday… they hadn't kissed again, but something about Zuleika had changed. A different side of her had slipped out—clingy, touchy, far too casual with skinship.
Not that Aquila hated it. No, that was the problem—she didn't. But she wasn't used to it either. And the worst part was that neither of them had figured out where exactly they stood with one another. Friends? Enemies? Something in between? Something more?
"I heard your brother Zejidiah is coming here to get you," Zuleika murmured against her shoulder.
"Yeah." Aquila gave a short reply, forcing herself to unclench her fists so she wouldn't smack Zuleika away.
But then the hold around her waist slowly loosened. Surprised, Aquila glanced back only to find Zuleika's expression unreadable.
"You said… you'll get married to another kingdom if you go home." Her voice was quiet, almost fragile.
Aquila blinked. She had completely forgotten about that. "I think it'll be postponed for a bit. The rebels at the Empire still haven't calmed down."
Zuleika didn't respond, lowering her gaze to the floor. Aquila pressed her lips together, unsettled by the sudden shift in mood.
Then, without warning, Zuleika lifted her face again—and leaned forward, pressing a quick, feather-light peck just at the corner of Aquila's lips.
"I think I still can't imagine you getting married," she blurted out, crimson eyes holding hers.
Aquila's eyes twitched. Frustration flared. Her hand flew up before she could stop herself, landing a sharp slap against Zuleika's cheek—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to sting.
"Idiot," she muttered, spinning around and marching away.
Behind her, Zuleika's laugh rang out, playful and maddening. It only made Aquila's irritation spike higher.
But as she walked, Aquila touched her own cheek unconsciously, feeling the warmth there. Her chest was tight, her pulse racing far too fast for comfort.
"I can't believe it…" she whispered under her breath, cheeks flushing hot.
All that from a single kiss. Just a corner-of-the-lip kiss.
"Was I this crazy before?" she exhaled, trying—and failing—to calm herself down.
...…
Later in the afternoon, Zuleika was called to the King's chamber.
"Father, if this is again related to the throne, I swear I will jump out of that window," Zuleika said, narrowing her eyes at him.
King Stewart groaned and rolled his eyes. "Can't you be serious for a moment?"
"I am serious!" Zuleika shot back, crossing her arms stubbornly in front of her chest.
But when she finally looked at her father's expression, her lips pressed together. His face wasn't laced with irritation this time—it carried weight.
"The Tartagalia's attacks are getting more and more aggressive," Stewart began heavily.
Zuleika fell silent.
"Sooner or later, even though I do not want to, I will have to deploy you on the battlefield to lead, Zuleika." His tone left no room for jest.
Zuleika wasn't surprised. She didn't flinch, nor did she refuse. She had fought the Tartagalia year after year ever since she had awakened her power. It wasn't something she despised—it was her pride. While others thought of her as a princess bound to silk halls, she preferred to be out there, standing shoulder to shoulder with her people.
"I understand," she replied simply.
"It's not looking good… and we cannot ask for the Feltogora's help." Stewart scoffed, leaning back into his chair with frustration.
"We can just easily defeat them like before, Father." Zuleika chuckled, trying to lighten the tension.
But the King's expression didn't waver. "It is different right now, Zuleika. They have over half a million soldiers."
Zuleika's eyes flew wide. "Half a million? What? How!?"
Stewart let out a long exhale, massaging his temples. "I'd like to ask the same question."
Zuleika's brows furrowed, the reality of the danger sinking in.
"The Nexus… if they ever reach our shores, it will surely become the battleground," Stewart said grimly.
"Is there no other way?" Zuleika asked, her fists tightening in her trousers.
"I already sent Stella to the Empire of Peris to ask for aid. But we cannot rely on them. Even if they agree, it does not change the fact that… we are outnumbered."
The chamber was heavy with silence, both of them fully aware of what was at stake. But then—
"Do you love Princess Aquila?"
The question came like a blade out of nowhere.
Zuleika's face turned crimson in an instant. "W-w-w-what are you talking about, Father!?"
Stewart narrowed his eyes at her, unmoved by her fluster. "Your mother already told me…"
Zuleika's jaw dropped. Mother—traitor! she cursed inwardly, gripping her arm like she might snap it off from embarrassment.
Her mind spun uncontrollably. Love? Aquila? She could still feel the phantom warmth of that stolen kiss from earlier, her teasing laugh, her infuriating calm stare. Her chest tightened, so tight she thought it might burst.
What is she to me?
The question burned through her like fire. They had shared a kiss, yes—but neither spoke of it after. Aquila never brought it up, and Zuleika… she never dared.
Did that make it meaningless?Or worse, something fragile she might shatter if she acknowledged it?
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.
"If you don't," Stewart said firmly, cutting her silence short, "you might as well cut your ties with her, Zuleika."
Her eyes widened at the weight of his words.
"You need to focus on the safety of our kingdom." He leaned forward, folding his hands together, his expression heavy with both duty and love. "We cannot afford distractions. You cannot afford distractions."
Zuleika's throat tightened. She wanted to protest, to argue that Aquila wasn't a distraction—that she was… something else, something she couldn't even name. Yet the weight of her father's words pressed harder than her own heartbeat.
"…I know," she whispered, her voice almost trembling.
For a moment, Stewart said nothing more, only watching his daughter wrestle with herself. Then he sighed, his features softening. "You are strong, Zuleika. Stronger than most. But even strength falters when the heart is divided."
Zuleika lowered her gaze, hiding the storm in her eyes. If I must choose between her and my kingdom… then what am I supposed to do?
Zuleika left the chamber, her boots echoing faintly against the coral palace halls. Yet her steps felt unsteady, like she was walking not on marble but on waves. Her mind would not quiet. Each corner of her memory seemed haunted by Aquila—the stolen kiss, the infuriating smirk, the rare flashes of gentleness that slipped through her calm exterior.
Before she realized it, she had wandered into the gardens. There, amidst the swaying blooms and the drifting scent of salt carried from the sea, she found her mother kneeling in the soil, tender hands brushing earth from a stem. The Queen glanced up at once, reading her daughter as if she were an open book.
"You smile too wide, little flame," her mother said softly, setting down the shears. "Your eyes tell me otherwise."
Zuleika forced a laugh, stepping closer. "You always see through me, Mother. It's unfair."
Her mother only chuckled, rising to her feet and dusting her hands. "It is not unfair, Zuleika. It is what mothers do."
For a moment, Zuleika stood in silence, watching the petals shiver under the afternoon light. Then, almost hesitantly, she asked:
"Mother… how do you know if you truly love someone?"
Her mother's eyes warmed, deep with the weight of years. She stepped closer, brushing stray strands of hair from Zuleika's cheek.
"You know," she said quietly, "when their presence feels like both a wound and a balm. When their absence hollows you out, yet their nearness fills you to overflowing. Love is not always gentle, my flame—it can ache, burn, even frighten you. But it is undeniable."
Zuleika lowered her gaze, her chest tight. "And if it frightens me?"
Her mother smiled faintly, tilting Zuleika's chin upward.
"Then perhaps it is because it matters too much. True love is never small, Zuleika. It is the kind of storm you cannot cage, the kind of fire you cannot smother. You can only choose—whether to let it consume you, or to run from it."
The garden was still around them, yet Zuleika felt her heart race like a war drum. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Her mother kissed her forehead gently, as if sealing the truth she had spoken.
"You will know, my daughter… when you cannot imagine yourself without them, and yet, you are stronger because of them."
....
That night, the courtyard was quiet, moonlight draping the fountain in pale silver. The water rippled softly, its rhythm steady against the heavy silence.
Zuleika sat at the fountain's edge, her elbows resting on her knees, staring at the shifting reflection. Her mind was tangled—her father's words, her mother's advice, and Aquila's face lingering in all of it.
Footsteps approached, light but steady.
"What are you doing here?" Aquila's voice broke the silence. She tilted her head slightly, her hair catching the moonlight.
Zuleika looked up slowly. Her crimson eyes glimmered in the reflection of the fountain's glow, but they seemed far away, lost. When they softened faintly at Aquila's presence, it was only barely.
"What?" Aquila asked, brow arched.
"Aquila…" Zuleika said, her voice low, almost trembling.
Aquila stilled, something like a chill running down her spine. Her lips parted faintly. "…What?"
"Who am I to you?" Zuleika asked. The words seemed fragile, yet they carried the weight of something heavier than war.
Aquila blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected such a question. To her, it was too complicated—too dangerous. So she answered with the first thing that came to her lips.
"A princess from the Nexus Kingdom?" she said lightly, almost careless.
Zuleika's face fell. Her brows knitted as if struck. "That's not what I mean."
"Oh? Then what is it?" Aquila pressed, though her tone was still maddeningly casual.
Zuleika hesitated, searching Aquila's face, but no answer came. Her chest tightened, waiting.
Aquila looked away, her voice quiet but flat. "You're someone… I enjoy annoying with. Someone I argue with. Someone I find troublesome, half the time." She smirked faintly, masking her own racing heart.
"But you're also someone who can stand on her own. A strong princess. The kind no one can toy with."
Zuleika swallowed, the smirk cutting sharper than a blade. Her heart ached, but she forced her lips to curve upward.
"Is that so?"
"Mm," Aquila replied, her tone light, as if that answered everything. She didn't dare say more—not when her heart longed to say everything.
Zuleika turned back to the water, staring at her own distorted reflection. The ache in her chest spread, slow and suffocating. In her mind, the meaning was clear—Aquila did not see her the same way. To Aquila, she was just another princess, another name.
She masked it with a chuckle, shaking her head. "You're always so vague, Aquila. I don't know why I even asked."
Aquila glanced at her, lips parting as if to speak, but she stopped herself. She only hummed, quiet.
The fountain kept flowing, the sound of water filling the silence where both their truths remained unspoken.
Zuleika's question lingered in the air, heavy as stone.
Aquila's eyes lowered to the rippling water, her reflection breaking with every small wave. She thought about it—about them. About the pull she felt whenever Zuleika looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
But for Aquila, reality was an iron chain. She belonged to the Feltogora Empire, bound to its crown, its expectations, its marriage. There was no path where they could end up together. At least… not unless Zuleika was the one to break it.
If only she would ask me.
If only Zuleika whispered the words—to fight, to stay, to choose her—Aquila would.
She would shatter her chains without hesitation,
burn every bridge,
betray crown and blood alike,
just to stand where Zuleika stood.
But Zuleika hadn't said the words. Not fully. Not clearly.
And so Aquila, who had been waiting, who had been hoping, leaned back with a practiced ease, folding her arms as though untouched. A faint curve brushed her lips, a mask well-worn.
Inside, however, her thoughts whispered bitterly—
You're always making things difficult, Zuleika… yet I'd still surrender everything, if only you asked.