Masuk*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?”
*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
*Ana*The silence doesn’t greet me–it pounces, thick as velvet curtains drawn too tight. For one foolish moment, I almost convince myself that Pendwick might simply bow and step aside, that the tremor in my chest is just the echo of court politics and nothing more. That maybe, just maybe, this isn't what I think it is. That he's only saying hello, like any other day—just happened to find me in the hall and wanted to—Oh, Ana, you know that’s a lie. The thought cuts sharp as winter wind. I couldn't even afford to convince myself. Just look at him—Pendwick, coincidentally here? The scent of his cologne drifts toward me, bergamot and cedar, too deliberate for a casual encounter. He stands casually in the middle of the White Hall, spine straight as a ceremonial sword, hands clasped so tightly in front of him I swear I can hear the leather of his gloves creak like ship rigging in a storm.The marble beneath my feet seems to pulse with each heartbeat. I swallow, tasting copper on my tongue
*King Alexander* Alexander watched Anastasia disappear down the marble corridor like a shadow slipping behind a veil—unwavering in her expression, yet brittle as winter glass. Shoulders rigid as armor plating, chin lifted in defiant mimicry of her mother's own expression. A cruel irony that didn’t go unmissed by him. Like a blade twisting between his ribs.. Because, like mother, like daughter—it made him all the more desperate to search for the fractures beneath the porcelain mask. Anastasia was drowning. Stretched gossamer-thin, each thread of her composure ready to snap. Her footfalls echoed with leaden exhaustion, the careful measured pace of someone fighting to remain upright. The way her fingers had trembled—barely perceptible—when she'd gathered her skirts. The distant fog that had clouded her crimson eyes during court proceedings, her mind a thousand leagues away from the petitions and proclamations.She was taking this burden far harder than pride would ever let her voice, c
*Ana*The room feels too bright.Sunlight slants through the high windows of the throne room, painting golden streaks across the carpet and catching the gold filigree of the vaulted ceiling until the whole room gleams like a jewel box cracked open.It should be beautiful. It is beautiful. But all I can think about is how the cold seeps through the layers of my court dress like water through silk, despite the iron firepits lining the marble floor. Each bowl spits low, hungry flames that devour coal and resin, sending ribbons of pine-scented smoke curling between the pillars. The smell wraps around us like phantom fingers—woody, bitter, carrying memories I'd rather not hold.My crown feels heavier today, its weight pressing into my skull like an accusation. The silver circlet that once felt like a birthright now feels like a penance. Or maybe I'm just tired.No. I am tired.I sit rigidly beneath the gilded canopy, my spine a blade of steel against the throne's velvet cushions. My hands
*Nicoli*The realization didn’t come like thunder.It came quietly. Like the soft closing of a door he hadn’t noticed until it was already locked behind him. Nicoli's boots struck the marble with too much force, each step a sharp crack that ricocheted off the vaulted ceiling and chased him down the empty corridor. The palace's silence pressed against his eardrums—thick, suffocating, like being buried alive in velvet. The silence of the palace offered no comfort. Had there ever been a time these halls did? That these halls didn’t feel like some mausoleum? Was there a time the air didn't taste of held breath and hidden truths? Nicoli could not say. He didn’t know. There was so much about Anastasia's world he'd never known, didn’t realize was severely lacking all this time. But the pieces were falling into place now, each one landing like a stone in his chest.And it all felt too late. The cold seeped through the seams of his coat, through his skin, settling deep in his bones. But t







