เข้าสู่ระบบ“Have you ever considered taking a pen pal, Ana?” Maddie uses the nickname. It’s a habit of hers when we are alone.
“Pen pal?” I repeat.
What is she going on about this time?
It’s been a month since Maddie started. But it doesn’t feel like much time has passed. Maybe because she makes everything seem, I don’t know, odd?
She never seems to run out of questions. That’s for sure.
Maddie moves to smell one of the roses. We are walking through her garden right now—the great garden of the late Empress Parsul, my mother.
It’s the only remains of her reign. Everything else was destroyed, as is the custom in Nochten. We purge anything of the dead.
I think that is why no one visits this place. It stays deserted, save for me.
Well, except for Maddie. She seems to like them as much as I do.
“Why would I do that?”
"Why do you think so?" Maddie leans down to fluff my hair.
“Stop,” I shift away, but Maddie plops her hand over my head. It feels warm on my scalp. It’s calming
“To make a friend, you silly goose.” Maddie goes on with a pat.
“Who would want to do that?” Let alone who will want to write to me.
Now I have to laugh.
“You’re the one being silly, Maddie.”
“Smart-ass,” Maddie bops my nose before going ahead. Her long legs take up a wider distance.
"Wait!" I start after her.
“Don’t leave me.”
“Easy, kid,” Maddie stops.
“You think I’m going to run away or something?”
“That-” She wouldn’t be the first. But I don’t say it. I just quicken my step.
“I just don’t want you to get lost.”
“Is that right?” Maddie smirks but waits until I catch up.
“Here,” Maddie reaches down.
“Maddie?” I hesitate at her hand. The gesture is still foreign to me. However, Maddie seems to like to do it a lot. It makes her happy.
If it makes her happy, then-
I gingerly take it, and Maddie smiles instantly. Her big fingers curl around mine. They are warm.
I like it.
“You never know. It can be quite fun.” Maddie winks. Apparently, That’s what it means to blink with one eye.
Winking is a new thing to me, like many other things.
“But I don’t have anyone to write to,”
“Yes, you do.” Maddie chirps,
“Who would that be then?”
“Well, what about your Father?”
“The king?” I freeze up right there.
“You mean King Alexander?”
Maddie nods, picking a petal.
“Don’t you ever wonder what your father could be thinking about?”
Do I? Something turns in my stomach. It’s shaky and sits badly in the space.
"No."
“Well, What if I were to say he thinks of you?” Maddie holds the petal.
“Would that change your mind?”
“I don’t like this question” I let go and cross my arms. My eyes are already glossy, but I stare at the roses.
No, not today. I was doing so well today.
I wipe my eye with the back of my hand to stop the first tear.
“Maybe he misses you?”
“I’m tired of talking, Maddie.” I sprint ahead.
“Ana-” Maddie follows, but I walk even faster.
I want to get out of this conversation.
Because nothing good ever comes from talking about THAT.
-x-
“What about your brother?” Maddie throws the question while in the study.
“Maddie, please,”
I thought we were done with this. But Maddie is still going at it.
“Don’t you want to see the Prince?”
“It’s study time.” I gesture to the book.
And I don’t want to talk about this anymore. But Maddie must not understand.
Or she refuses because she ignores me.
"So?" Maddie takes a seat beside me. She leans over to see the book. But with one look at the picture-less page, she gags and pushes it back.
"Good grief! How can you read this stuff?"
"Easily," I laugh. I’ve never seen someone so expressive. She always has a face for something.
it’s funny
"I could teach you if you like."
"NO. THANKS." Maddie rolls her eyes.
Thinking that the end of the discussion, I jotted down some notes. The quill scratches the paper in the silence.
This is nice. I find the break quite peaceful.
But it doesn’t last.
“Prince Nicoli has never gotten to meet you, Ana.”
I flinch when at the name.
“Maddie, please-”
“I am just saying,” Maddie stands from the desk.
“You are so different from him,”
“Who? Nicoli?” The name tastes weird on my tongue.
It’s the first time I had to say it aloud.
“How would you know?”
“He’s quite popular. Always smiling and laughing. He has your father’s blue eyes, too, you know. “
“My father?” My stomach sinks.
My face must say it all because Maddie squeezes my shoulder gently.
“Have you ever met the Prince?”
“No, I-” I was sent away shortly before he was born. But the words stick in my throat.
Because the words bring up those memories again, and I’d rather not remember.
“I've never met him." I go instead, cut and dry.
“Would you like to?”
Maddie tucks my hair to the side.
“I’m sure he’d want to meet you.”
“I…” meet me? I turn to look back and catch the mirror.
There I am. Red eyes and silver hair. I don’t have those famous blue eyes like fathers—or my little brother, apparently.
We are nothing alike.
The sight only makes me more aware of it.
“He could be eager to see you, your Empress.” Maddie, meanwhile, goes.
“Prince Nicoli may be thinking of you right now,”
“And how would you know that?” I push away her hand. My voice is clearly doubtful because I am.
“There has not been a single word from Dawny. Not Papa, not anyone.” I look down at the book, but it’s useless.
There’s no way I can read now. The Tears make everything all blurry. It’s annoying.
“Four years and nothing.” I wipe off the free tear just for another to fall.
“Little Ana,” Maddie pulls me into her arms.
I stiffen in my chair when she does. It's another gesture of hers: hugging. But it is still too new to be comfortable.
My aunt and uncle never hug me. No one has for as long as I can remember.
Is it normal to hug people?
I wouldn’t even know who to ask.
“I hear you.” Maddie, meanwhile, pulls back. She clicks her tongue at my tears but moves to wipe them off. Her sleeves scratches a little. But I don’t mind it.
Actually, it sort of feels nice. It feels warm like her hands, but I don’t dare say out loud.
It might be too strange.
“But sometimes time can make things much harder to do- more so the older you get.” Maddie goes on.
“What do you mean?” I blink up between tears. “What are you saying?”
Is she saying Papa wants to talk to me?
No, that can’t be true.
“Maddie, he doesn’t want me-”
“Maybe the King’s a big coward?” ” Maddie pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Ever thought of that?”
“Coward?”
“Uh-huh.” Maddie nods. “And maybe that’s why he hasn’t yet.”
“That-” For a moment, a glimmer of doubt does cross my mind. But no, that can’t be.
“Maddie-” It’s preposterous, but I don’t get to say it before Maddie goes.
“I bet you he’s waiting on you to act first.”
“For me?”
“Yup.” And Maddie bops my nose.
“I think the balls are in your court.”
“Ball?” I don’t understand, but Maddie smiles.
“Come on,” And she opens a drawer for fresh paper.
“Maddie,” But she shakes her head and puts it in front of me anyway.
“Just a little letter wouldn’t hurt, now would it?” She pushes my hand to it.
“Just a simple letter, Ana.” Maddie gives a reassuring squeeze.
“Just do that, and I’ll stop.”
"Do you promise?” I perk up. I don’t just mean about the letter.
“We won’t ever speak of this again?”
Maddie nods.
“Cross my heart,” Maddie draws a line over her chest with her finger. I don’t know what it means.
But it sounds convincing enough for me.
“You promised.” I remind her before I dip the quill in ink.
“Just one letter.”
*Ana*The click of the study door echoes too sharply behind me, like the snap of a thread pulled too tight. The sound reverberates through my bones, settling somewhere cold between my shoulder blades.My hand lingers on the knob longer than necessary, the cold brass pressing into my palm like a reproach. The metal drinks the warmth from my fingers, leaving them numb and trembling. I pretend I'm just collecting myself, preparing mentally for the walk with Nugen back to the throne room. For a heartbeat, I stand there—spine straight as a blade, hands folded over the front of my skirts like a shield—pretending I cannot hear them.But I can.There it is again—voices. Something murmured behind the door—low voices, too soft to make out. A hushed rhythm, broken only by the faint creak of leather and the gentle scrape of chair legs shifting across stone. Muffled by thick wood. Low. Careful. One of them belongs to Bruno-I know that deep timber from anywhere, the way it dips when he is speaking
*Naska* The blood was rich. Velvety, dark, and warm against her tongue like liquid silk spun from copper and iron. It coated the inside of her mouth with the texture of melted wine—heady, sinful, spreading a flush of heat down her neck that made her skin tingle with satisfaction. Gods, nothing compared to human blood when it was this fresh, this pure. The metallic sweetness rolled across her palate in waves, each swallow more intoxicating than the last.Naska nearly purred at the realization. Human. Recently drawn—she could taste the life still humming in it, could smell the lingering traces of whoever had donated this precious gift. A female donor, most likely, young enough for the blood to carry that particular brightness that came with youth and health.Perhaps Elazie? No—too old now, the pheromones were all wrong, carrying that bitter undertone that came with age and declining vitality. Maybe Tulli? She was young enough, with that pert little piggy nose that always tilted up in
*ANASTASIA*I am in the Rose Garden. But not as it is in waking life. Everything is in bloom—violently, obscenely alive. Roses spill open around me in thick, silken layers, their petals so saturated with color they seem to pulse with their own heartbeat. Deep crimsons bleed into bruised purples, while tender pinks flush pale as dawn light. Each bloom unfurls like a mouth opening to whisper secrets, their folds heavy and wet with morning dew that clings to my fingertips when I brush past. Some hang pendulous, drunk on their own beauty, hearts swollen and velvet-soft, caressing my bare arms with the intimacy of lovers' touches as I drift between them.The air is thick—almost choking—with their perfume. Sweet. Overripe. Cloying. Like breath held too long against fevered skin, like honey left to spoil in summer heat. Each inhale coats my throat with nectar so rich it makes me dizzy, makes my pulse quicken with something that feels dangerously close to hunger.I am alone. But no—I’m not
*Nicoli*And just like that, Nicoli was alone.Not alone in the room, perhaps—servants still ghosted past at the edges of the lobby, their footsteps whisper-soft against marble—but alone in that quiet, suffocating way that settled behind the ribs like stones and refused to leave.The sound of his mother's heels still hung in the air like a low fog, trailing down the western hall. Sharp. Precise. Each click a period at the end of sentences he couldn't finish. Then came the crystalline whisper of the chandelier above—trinkling faintly like breaking icicles as the great doors reopened to let the maids back in, their arms laden with the first of many trunks. Brass buckles caught the light. Leather groaned under weight. The familiar sounds of arrival that should have felt like homecoming but tasted instead like copper coins on his tongue.He didn’t move.His shoulders remained locked, spine rigid as carved stone. The smiles and quick hellos from the passing staff felt distant. Flat. As if
*Belinda*The storm lashed against the glass like a beast clawing to break free, each gust sending tremors through the windowpanes that Belinda felt in her bones. Sleet hammered the tall windows of the entry hall—not the gentle patter of rain, but sharp needles of ice that struck with military precision, each impact a tiny percussion in the symphony of winter's rage. She watched without blinking, her gray eyes reflecting the storm's fury while her body remained statue-still.Not snow—no, that would have been too merciful. Too poetic. Too soft for what churned inside her chest.This was the kind of cold that stalked its prey. Bitter, wet, vengeful—it slipped beneath the heaviest cloaks like skeletal fingers, found every gap in armor, every weakness in resolve. The wind carried the scent of ice and dying earth, sharp and metallic against her tongue when she breathed too deeply. Almost fitting for the tempest brewing in her heart, her endless waiting stretching like a wire pulled to its
*Ana*The wind snarls with a bone-shattering snap, its howl echoing off the marble columns like a wounded beast. It cuts through velvet and wool and fur, no matter how tightly I clutch my reinforced cloak around my shoulders. She is hell-bent to reach into every tender space with vengeance, her icy fingers finding the gaps between fabric and flesh, making a misery of everyone.Like a cruel god, each gust kicks up fine dust from the desert’s edge, peppering the White Steps and gilded stone in shades of dull ochre. Even the sky looks bruised—dark, low, swollen with snow that never falls yet but taunts with its promise. The kind of sky that presses down on your chest, that warns of a storm ready to brew with the weight of held breath. Threatening the passage back through the mountains to be slow and torturous if given more time.It will not wait. I must hurry the farewells along. A struggle as it is, because each moment is like pulling a fang. There are ceremonies to uphold. Eyes to sa







