Aquila had attended enough noble gatherings to know how to endure them.
Smile when required. Speak when necessary. Ignore everyone else. Simple.
Or at least, it should have been.
The moment they entered the banquet hall, she had already felt the weight of countless eyes settle upon her shoulders. Nobles whispered behind jeweled fans, merchants craned their necks from distant tables, and young heirs stared with poorly concealed fascination.
None of it bothered her. It never had. She was accustomed to attention. What she wasn't accustomed to was the slow irritation building inside her chest every time Zuleika laughed.
"...A history lesson? Gods forbid!"
The hall erupted into laughter.
Aquila's fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her wine glass. The sound carried effortlessly through the room.
Bright. Unrestrained. Annoyingly infectious.
Across the table, Lady Kylie was already leaning closer to Zuleika, completely captivated. Their conversation flowed with an ease that seemed almost unfair.
Five minutes.
It had taken Zuleika five minutes to befriend the daughter of one of the Empire's most influential dukes.
Meanwhile Aquila had spent years learning diplomacy, etiquette, and political maneuvering only for people to describe her as intimidating.
How unfair.
Another burst of laughter reached her ears.
Aquila stared harder into her wine. The golden liquid swirled lazily within the crystal glass.
"...Then why are you glaring at your drink?"
The thought surfaced uninvited.
Her jaw tightened. Ridiculous.
Zuleika could laugh with whoever she pleased. She could speak to whoever she pleased. It had absolutely nothing to do with Aquila. Nothing.
And yet every time Kylie smiled at her, every time Zuleika leaned closer, every time their voices blended together so naturally—
Something sharp twisted unpleasantly in Aquila's chest.
Before she could examine that feeling any further, she rose quietly from her seat. No one stopped her. Most were too occupied watching Zuleika. For reasons Aquila refused to dwell upon. The corridors beyond the banquet hall were cooler. Quieter.
The distant music faded into a soft murmur behind stone walls. Aquila exhaled slowly. The silence should have been comforting.
Instead, she found herself replaying fragments of laughter in her head.
She frowned. How irritating.
She rounded a corner.
Then paused. She heard voices, low and muffled.
A door stood slightly ajar ahead.
Instinct immediately sharpened her attention.
Aquila slowed her steps.
"...The only Princess of Feltogora..."
The Duke's voice.
Her expression hardened instantly.
"...Remove her. Quietly."
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow.
Every sound disappeared.
Every distraction vanished.
Only those words remained.
Assassination.
So that was their plan. A political inconvenience to be erased. It was predictable and cowardly.
Aquila's walked toward the hall where she heard the muffled voices only to see a figure standing in front of the chamber doors.
She took another silent step forward.
Then suddenly—
A hand clamped over her mouth.
Her entire body went rigid.
Silver eyes widened before narrowing dangerously.
Zuleika.
Of course.
Who else would possess such audacity?
Aquila was already preparing several highly undignified insults when Zuleika caught her wrist and pulled her away from the doorway. The nearest room swallowed them both. The door clicked shut behind them. Darkness descended. Only a narrow beam of moonlight slipped through the curtains, illuminating fragments of the chamber in pale silver. Aquila immediately yanked Zuleika's hand away.
"What are—"
The doorknob rattled. Both froze.
The sound cut through the darkness like a blade. Someone was coming.
Aquila felt her irritation vanish instantly.
Her focus sharpened. Her fingers curled around the handle of her hidden dagger.
If the Duke entered— The door creaked open. A shadow appeared. Aquila shifted her weight.
Ready.
Prepared.
And then—
An arm wrapped around her waist.
It was firm, strong and warm.
Aquila's thoughts stopped.
Not slowed.
Not faltered.
Stopped.
Completely.
Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she found herself pulled backward.
The cold wall met her spine. The breath left her lungs. Her pulse lurched violently.
Then came a hand against her cheek. Warm fingers. A careful touch. Gentle.
Far gentler than the situation warranted. For some reason, that frightened her more than the assassination plot.
Aquila stared.
Confused.
Alarmed.
Very, very confused.
What was Zuleika doing?
The answer arrived a second later. Warm lips brushed against hers. The world tilted. Every coherent thought shattered. Years of royal education disappeared. Years of military discipline vanished. Every lesson, every strategy, every carefully cultivated layer of composure dissolved instantly.
Because Zuleika was kissing her.
The realization echoed uselessly through her mind.
Zuleika is kissing me.
Zuleika is kissing me.
Zuleika is kissing me.
Aquila couldn't breathe.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Heat flooded her entire body. Her heartbeat hammered so violently against her ribs she was convinced the entire corridor could hear it. Some distant part of her mind remained aware of the Duke standing in the doorway.
Aware that this was a disguise. A distraction. A necessary deception.
Logically, she understood all of that. Unfortunately, logic had abandoned her several moments ago. The only thing she could focus on was warmth.
The arm around her waist. The hand against her face. The impossible closeness. The unbearable awareness of Zuleika. Then she noticed something.
Zuleika's eyes were open. Not once had she looked away. Past Aquila's shoulder, her crimson gaze remained locked upon the Duke.
Aquila had seen warriors before.
Had seen generals. Had seen men who commanded entire armies. None of them had ever looked quite like that. For a fleeting moment, she almost felt sorry for the Duke.
Almost.
The door slammed shut. Silence followed. The danger had passed. Yet Zuleika remained exactly where she was.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Aquila was fairly certain her heart had become defective. There was no other explanation for the frantic pounding inside her chest. Finally, Zuleika pulled away. The absence of warmth felt strangely noticeable.
Aquila hated that realization immediately.
"...Forgive me," Zuleika whispered.
Forgive her?
Forgive her?
Aquila's thoughts finally restarted. Only to immediately burst into flames. Heat rushed into her face. Her ears. Her neck. Everywhere.
"You—"
The word emerged alone. Pathetic. Truly pathetic. Aquila, Crown Princess of Feltogora. A woman capable of dismantling political arguments with a single sentence.
Reduced to "you."
Meanwhile Zuleika had the audacity to look innocent. Completely innocent. As though she hadn't just shattered Aquila's ability to form coherent thoughts.
"Princess Aquila?"
That gentle voice nearly finished the job.
Something inside Aquila snapped.
Not dramatically.
Not violently.
Just enough.
Her hand rose.
Poink.
The sound echoed softly through the dark chamber. Aquila immediately felt better. Only slightly. Very slightly. Because unfortunately— No amount of dignity, composure, or self-control could erase the lingering warmth still resting upon her lips.