“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 fire cracks with a violent snap, splitting the silence like bone breaking. Wood collapses in on itself behind me, sending a constellation of sparks spiraling upward into the smoky darkness. For one searing moment, the nearest hearth blazes too bright—casting liquid gold across the marble floor, illuminating the exact spot where she stood just heartbeats ago.As if the flames themselves bear witness to injustice. As if I'm not the only one who sees it.Naska is gone without another word. No fight. No weeping. No desperate plea for mercy. Just... nothing. The absence of her cuts deeper than any scream would have.I can't tear my eyes away from her retreat—watching her tall, angular frame disappear through the towering silver-and-glass doors like smoke dissipating into winter air. Her shoulders are drawn back with the rigid precision of a soldier facing execution, thread stretched so taut across a loom that one more pull would snap it entirely. Each step she takes is measured,
*Naska*Naska's pale red eyes flicked upward at any movement by the entrances, her pale fingers tightening around her glass until her knuckles went white. Each flutter of fabric, each shadow crossing the threshold, made her heart lurch with desperate hope—that it would finally be him. That, at last, her love would arrive. But each hopeful glance was dashed just as quickly as it came, leaving her chest hollow and aching. The number of false alarms had become so common that Naska could feel her own excitement waning like a dying flame. Yet, her longing for Mykhol remained as strong as ever, a constant throb beneath her ribs.Standing alone was agony. Her bare feet, clad only in simple leather slippers, shifted restlessly against the cold marble floor. The rough muslin of her tunic—new for the occasion, felt suddenly shabby against her skin as she watched the noble ladies glide past in their rich furs and velvets. The soft corduroys of their gowns whispered secrets she'd never know, whil
*Bruno* The scent of wine and roasted meat turned to ash in Bruno's mouth the moment he saw him.Through the ballroom's towering glass doors, past the writhing mass of silk-draped nobles and their glittering jewelry that caught candlelight like fractured stars, a shadow had fallen across the moonlit terrace. Not just any shadow—this one had substance, weight, the kind of presence that made the very air seem to thicken and curdle.Nine years. Nine years of nightmares that left him gasping in sweat-soaked sheets, of healing bones that still ached when storms rolled in, of growing tall and lean and sharp-edged like a blade forged in fear. Nine years of learning to move like smoke through palace halls, to disappear into corners and doorways, to become invisible when survival demanded it. And still—still—Bruno's blood recognized that silhouette before his conscious mind could catch up.The way the man's shoulders cut through lamplight like the edge of an executioner's axe. The predatory s
*Ana*“Mykhol,” I breathe, still dazed by the sight of him. Joy bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, effervescent and overwhelming. "You came!" I laugh—the sound bright and giddy, spilling out before I can contain it—as I take a step forward on unsteady legs. "It was getting so late, I almost gave up on you."He lingers at the edge of the lantern-light like a figure stepped from shadow itself, framed by the golden spill of illumination from the palace windows. The warm glow catches the sharp angles of his face, casting him half in light, half in mystery. Beyond the glass doors, muffled conversation and music still echo—crystal chiming against crystal, the honeyed pull of a cello drawing hearts into its melody. But here in the garden, the cold air bites at my exposed arms with gentle teeth, and the dormant bushes sway with the night wind as though the very world holds its breath just for us."You act as though I would miss my little Ana's grand celebration." His voice flows like
*Ana*"Oh…this isn't good." The words taste like copper on my tongue the moment they leave my lips as I step out. I've made the biggest mistake of all. But it's too late. I'm doomed. The click of the silver-and-glass doors shutting behind me all but confirmed my end. Because the moment they do, the world changes.The noise cuts off like a blade through velvet—sharp, final. No more crystal goblets chiming like broken bells, no strangled violin strings sawing through the air like tortured metal. No high-pitched laughter that claws at my eardrums, spilling from polished fangs of nobles drunk on bloodwine and their own importance. No overly eager lords with their grabbing hands—fingers that linger too long on my wrists, palms that press too low on my spine, breath that reeks of wine and desperation as they puff their invitations in my face.It’s immediately gone. Sealed off like a jewelry box snapping closed. The oppressive heat that radiated from braziers burning like funeral pyres, the
*Pendwick*"What could ALL of you possibly be doing with my dear assistant?"The words hung in the air like frost crystallizing on glass. Pendwick immediately saw the effect. It was astonishing. No, this was the power of a king. The nobles who had been so boldly aggressive moments before didn't just retreat; they withered.Lord Halric's face drained of color so rapidly that Pendwick could trace the path of it—first his cheeks hollowing, then his lips blanching to the pallor of a corpse. His mouth worked silently, a desperate fish gasping on dry land, the tendons in his neck straining visibly beneath paper-thin skin.Duke Serevan's jowls quivered like custard, the flaccid flesh rippling with each panicked breath. His backward step sent a discordant squeak across the polished marble, the sound sharp as a needle in the sudden silence. The heavy brocade of his coat rustled as he nearly toppled, the weight of his own fear disrupting his balance.Pendwick watched in mute fascination as a be