LOGIN*Ana*
Maddie was right. I feel dismal as the temperature drops the closer the maid guides us outside.
She leads me down the patio steps toward the gardens. All the while, I try not to shiver obviously but it’s becoming more frequent. The Autumn chill is no joke. I have to pull the shawls closer.
But they are not effective and the cold stabs through. Worse, it’s just around my shoulder. My feet and legs are getting the worse end of the deal. The chilly air seems to lick at them.
I should have just put on that stupid dress. I am suffering silently.
Ahead of the maid, I can make out a stoned seating area. A table has been set with china and snacks on tiers. The table has two chairs. One is empty as Stepmother sits in the other.
Upon seeing her, I dart my eyes about. I’m hoping to find another smaller figure. Someone that should be either shorter or around my height. But, as we draw over, my expectations die. There is no one else around.
It is going to be just the two of us. Though I am disappointed, I try not to show it. I don’t want Stepmother to feel like I’m not happy to see her.
“Thank you, Julia.” Queen Belinda nods to the old maid.
Julia bows and moves to step aside. It only dawns on me that with just us three, there are no other servants around.
Odd. I’d expected there to be more. But I don’t dwell on it as I feel Stepmother looking at me.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting, Mother.” I curtsy respectfully to her.
As I stand back up, I swear there is a strange smirk on her face. But it’s gone in a flash. Or did I just see it?
Stepmother just smiles at me.
“Come, join me, EMPRESS Anastasia.” Stepmother puts a strong emphasis on my title again. Just as she did before. I wonder if it’s a habit of hers?
“Thank you for having me,” I take a seat. Sitting, I can now see her clothes.
Stepmother has dressed smartly for the outside. Her dress is a light blue velvet with sleeves lined in white rabbit fur. And a white stout fur shawl hangs loosely from her shoulders.
Stepmother has always been beautiful. But she has gone the extra mile by adorning herself in jewels befitting her status. Gold emerald earrings dangle from her ears that match the brooch on her neck. She doesn’t have the crown on but it doesn't change anything. Just the way she carries herself reeks of royal radiance.
This woman is indeed a queen. And she demands respect.
I really should have worn the dress. I am lamenting as I now find myself such a pale comparison to her. I am still in my travel clothes. Nothing extravagant on them save for the silver thread that embroiders the hems- which is covered up by the shawls.
Speaking of the shawls, I feel another gust of cold air climb up and have to pull them closer. But they can only cover so much. Goosebumps are forming on my neck and chest.
“You’ve matured since I’ve last seen you.” Queen Belinda motions for Julia. The maid comes to start serving tea. The maid strains the leaves and pours a steamy black liquid into the queen’s cup. She then does the same to mine.
Having the cup filled, I catch the pleasant earthy smell aerate from within.
So this is tea. I’ve never had any before. Dawny has a fascination with the drink. It’s a fascination that seems to be spreading amongst the other kingdoms. Except for Nochten and their coffee.
We refuse to give that up. It is our number one import from the colonies, after all. But as I am in Dawny, I wish to play by their customs. I will taste tea for the first time today.
Curious, I lift the cup to blow the steam before taking a sip. I’ve yet to add anything, not sure how it would taste black. If it were coffee, I would add copious amounts of cream and sugar as a habit.
I have quite a sweet tooth.
Queen Belinda smiles watching before she adjusts hers with a sugar cube and splash of cream. Her spoon clicks against the china as she mixes her additives before feeling her concoction ready. She takes the cup to sip silently as her eyes stay on me.
“Mentally, I mean.” Queen Belinda smiles strangely into her cup.
“Thank you for your kind words."
"I have been busy each day reading and studying.” I put the cup down. I find the drink bland and too soft. I doubt cream or sugar can help change it so I don’t try.
I don’t think I like tea. It’s decided. But just as I have the cup down, the maid is on the move again. The maid refills what I just tasted.
“Oh-” I dampened at the sight but stop myself. I wasn’t planning on tasting more but now it might appear rude.
At least it’s warm. I have to relent as more goosebumps travel up my legs.
“You mean as preparations for when you ascend to Empress?” Queen Belinda offers a cookie. This I am more eager to take and bite off the bunny's head.
“Yes, but I also find it fun,” I quickly finish the rabbit cookie.
“You do?” She seems amused. But her grey eyes seem to dull a little as if she has realized something.
“Be careful my dear,” Queen Belinda starts taking a cookie for herself.
“Men aren’t too keen on a woman who reads.” She dunks her cookie into the tea and gently nibbles on its ears.
“They find it...threatening.”
“Shouldn’t I be threatening? I am Empress.” I reply simply.
Why would I care how they felt about me? The advice seems silly to me.
Queen Belinda snorts while swallowing a bite. Her eyes lift to regard me. They linger on my silver hair. Her stare makes my back stiffen a little.
I’ve seen that stare before but I shake it away. It couldn’t be. Not with Stepmother.
We are family.
“It is proper for a ruler to be well-learned, yes.” Queen Belinda agrees politely.
“You are right, but be sure that it will be seen as coming off too strong. You are direct, I can tell. But this does not help a woman. Women need to be more subtle to get their way.”
“Subtle?” I repeat with a blink but she doesn't delve further into her meaning.
Instead, she catches me shivering. I pull up my shawls as if to play it off but Stepmother beams a new smile. She sits back and fluffs up her fur shawl. It looks so much warmer than my choices.
“So, are you involved in court proceedings yet? Or is that still too much for one your age?” Queen Belinda sips her tea.
“How are your regents? Your- hmm, Aunt and Uncle?” Queen Belinda asks and I move for another cookie.
“They are well, I suppose. And I am in court. I attend and listen to the issues and concerns.”
“That is wonderful to hear, Empress Anastasia. More experience will only help you.” Queen Belinda speaks genuinely.
“The Empire is going to be quite busy with you in power. They are blessed to have you.” Queen Belinda sounds sincere. I feel pink at the compliment.
Outside of Maddie, I don’t receive much praise. But this must be because we are family.
Speaking of which-
“Does Brother Nicoli attend court now?” I ask.
At the question, Stepmother stiffens and her eyes sharpened. She smiles tightly.
“No, Prince Nicoli is still young.” Queen Belinda is short. I can only open my mouth to form an ‘o’.
“He is four now, right?” I ask to see her verify with a nod.
“Then, how is he doing? Has the fever subsided?”
Stepmother’s smile tightens.
“Not presently.”
I can’t but frown a little. But I put on a more upbeat attitude.
“Perhaps tomorrow, then. He’ll be feeling better.”
“Perhaps,” Queen Belinda repeats. It is only here that I feel some kind of hesitation. It’s odd- like a wall is being put up in front of me. Stepmother isn’t acting differently. She still smiles and her voice is pleasant.
But maybe it’s the way she answers- short and with no elaboration. I don’t quite understand but I get the impression she’s holding back at something. What could that be?
It’s as if she is trying to push me away from speaking about my brother.
But that is silly. I have to dismiss it. That can’t be the case.
“I hope so.” I find my pocket in my skirt. My fingers feel for the box. It’s still there.
Perhaps now is the time to bring it out? I start to wiggle it from my skirt.
“I have a gift for “
“Fevers can take time to heal, Empress Anastasia.” Queen Belinda interrupts and I feel my hand freeze.
“I expect it will take up to the entire duration of your stay.”
The whole time? I hold the box in place.
“But, if so, how am I to meet my-“ I drop my words as she smiles widely at me. It’s not a warm smile-not like the one Maddie gives me. This is cold- colder than the autumn air. It feels like it has teeth that could bite.
The sight of it makes me stop in place. I am afraid to move less when it strikes.
“I thought our talk would take longer, nay, I would have preferred it to be since the air feels so crisp.” Queen Belinda moves to take up her spoon.
“But it seems the subject was bound to come up at some point.” The spoon goes into her cold tea. She stirs with a loud click of the china.
“And it’s better to handle things as they come naturally, don’t you agree?” Queen Belinda pulls the spoon away to motion for Julia. The maid takes her cup without a glance at mine.
I open my mouth to speak but find a delay. It takes an effort for any sound to come out. But when it does, it betrays my confusion.
“Mother?”
*Ana*“No,” I whisper, the word a razor's edge against the burning silence filling my head."It isn’t true.” The confession slides from my lips—trembling, fragile as blown glass slipping from desperate fingers. Falling. Slipping. Too thin. Too delicate to catch. They shatter in the stillness, each fragment cutting deeper than the last."I can't be in love with Nicoli—" But the sentence splinters off in my throat. It dies half-born, smothered beneath the weight pressing in from every side. Because the room is shifting. Subtly. Menacingly. But it will not stop like a pebble rolling down a great hill, gaining momentum with every stretched moment.The air bends first—then the walls. Stone walls seem to breathe, pressing closer like a closing jaw. Carved molding above the hearth liquefies, candlelight blurring into molten halos that pulse and writhe. Each breath becomes a razor—sharp, shallow, scraping against the inside of my throat.I cannot breathe.The sound that leaves me is half ga
*Anastasia*“I thought you could use a friend, just about now.”The word—friend—hangs over me, almost mockingly, slicing through the stillness of the room. It catches in my throat, sharp and bitter, a shard of glass impossible to swallow. Behind me, the fire in the grate sputters and hisses, a dying serpent casting its last embers across stone-gray walls. Each spark feels like a taunting whisper, a brittle laugh echoing the fractures of the day.Not because his words were untrue—but because they laid bare the raw, bleeding wound of what had transpired between Hidi and me. The memory burns like a brand, fresh and searing, leaving no room for excuse because the fight is still too fresh, no time yet to heal or balm.My fingers curl around the door knob, knuckles bleaching white, tendons straining beneath skin pulled taut with tension. I should close the door right now. Dismiss him. Do anything but stand here, suspended between the hollow emptiness of the hallway and the dangerous promise
*Mykhol*The high vaulted ceiling still trembled with the aftermath of her voice. It clung to the carved stone like smoke after a fire—sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore.The resonance hung thicker than the firepits still crackling hungrily into the woodpiles, the scent of burning oak and pine mixing with the heady perfumes of the nobility. Even now, the echo of it shivered down his spine, raising the fine hairs on his arms beneath layers of silk and velvet.Gods, that voice. He’d nearly trembled at the sound of it.He hadn’t known Ana could raise her voice like that—clean and precise, like a sword drawn just before the strike. The raw power of it had rippled through the court, causing silks to flutter and jewels to shiver against throats. And though her words hadn't been aimed at him, they'd slipped under his skin just the same, igniting a slow, molten ache beneath his ribs that spread downward like liquid fire.His fingers twitched at his side, the leather of his gloves creakin
*Anastasia*The echo of the court doors sealing shut behind me brings instant relief—until it doesn’t. The sound is soft and clean on it hinges as it clicks behind me, a whisper of finality rather than the slam my trembling hands wanted to deliver. But somehow, that gentle sound feels heavier than any thunderous crash could have been.As if I had to will the doors closed with more than force—with all my spine, with silence, with the last shreds of composure I can manage to scrape together against the turbulence raging inside. For an instant, the sound feels final. Solid. Like the world has agreed to stop pressing against my skull, to grant me a single moment of mercy.For a breathless moment, the corridor offers stillness. No voices clamoring over mine. No red eyes mercilessly looking at me as if daring to see the first sign of weakness. No judgment hanging in the air like a blade waiting to fall.Just cold air scented with the faint lingering ghosts of wax and candle smoke, the subtl
*Ana*“Riots in Pave. Fourteen Nochten citizens dead.”The words strike the court like an executioner's axe meeting stone—sharp, final, reverberating over the crackle of the fire pits, the bitter wind outside, across the arched ceiling and through the marble floor until I feel them in my teeth. The vibration climbs through my slippers, past silk stockings, into the marrow of my bones where it settles like frozen glass.I blink, and read them again, willing the ink to reshape itself into something that makes sense. It doesn’t. The ink remains unchanged, stubborn in its terrible clarity.“Bulgeon casualties. Numbers unlisted.” Something inside me lurches—a ship's deck dropping beneath my feet in a storm swell. My knees threaten betrayal, and I catch myself with a micro-adjustment of weight that only Nugen, standing close enough to hear my breathing change, might notice. But I feel it—the way my center tilts like a cup about to spill, the way my breath catches halfway up my throat and
*Admiral Nugen The air in the court was too still—dense, like velvet soaked rot festering in shadow, carrying a silence so weighty it pressed against eardrums like delving too deep beneath dark water.Admiral Nugen shifted where he stood near the edge of the chamber, half-sunk into shadow beneath the high-arched entry, the ceremonial weight of his sword hung heavier than usual against his hip, the silver-detailed armor dragging at his frame like iron shackles. It wasn't the metal—it was the wet. Days and days of ceaseless rain had soaked into everything: stone, silk, bone. Even breath felt waterlogged.Movement was like wading through a shallow tide that never receded. The rain had stopped, finally, but only just—the memory of it still clung to the walls, to the air, to the hollow spaces between his ribs.Above, thick gray clouds clogged the sky like wool packed tight against glass pressing down on the palace's ancient towers. They didn't want to rain. They didn't want to snow. They







