---
Today was the day. The whole of Easteford was abuzz with festivities as they prepared to welcome their new queen.
"How is everything coming along?" Awin asked, eyeing himself in the mirror. He was being dressed in the royal ceremonial attire by his servants: a navy-blue doublet, adorned with a subtle pattern of interlocking golden rivets that ran along the seams. On the shoulders sat ornate epaulets, fringed and decorated with small, glittering gemstones.
His breeches were tucked into knee-high leather boots, polished to a high shine.
"Everything is ready, Your Highness," Bertrand answered.
The servants were just about to place the crown on Awin's head when he stopped them with a wave of his hand and dismissed them.
"What's the matter, Bertrand? You look uneasy."
"Forgive me, Your Highness. I was just curious... You don't seem worried that Lady Mahalia might try to stop the wedding."
Awin chuckled as he pulled on his gloves. "I know my bride well—more than she'd like to admit. She doesn't fight losing battles. She's wise enough to know there's no way out of marrying me."
"I see..." Bertrand murmured, though one thought simmered in his mind: Was there really no way out?
---
The Queen's Room
"Lady Mahalia, which earring do you prefer?"
Mahalia looked at the array of jewelry laid before her, utterly indifferent.
"You decide," she replied, her voice devoid of enthusiasm.
"Oh—okay." The servant was taken aback. She hadn't dressed many brides before, but this certainly wasn't a normal reaction. Mahalia seemed less like a bride and more like a student being forced into an examination.
After she was helped into her dress and adorned with makeup and jewelry, the servant clapped her hands with glee and turned Mahalia to face the mirror. But Mahalia didn't even glance at her reflection. Instead, she turned to the servant.
"How long before we head out for the ceremony?"
"Uh... the ceremony starts in an hour, but we'll be leaving in thirty minutes."
"Thank you," Mahalia muttered, waving the girl off.
"Excuse me?" The servant blinked.
"You are done dressing me, right?"
"Yes... but—"
"Then excuse me. I'd like some time to myself."
The servant was bewildered by the request but didn't argue. With a slight bow, she left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Mahalia reached into her luggage and pulled out a piece of parchment and a special pen. She began scribbling furiously—two letters. One to Lady Jamon and the other to Sir Milton. This was the only time she could safely write them; once she became queen, the level of scrutiny would be behemothic.
A knock on the door startled her. She hurriedly folded the letters.
"I said I want to be left alone. It's not time yet," she called out.
"I know. May I still come in?" came a voice.
She froze. That voice was familiar. "You may come in."
The door opened. Without turning around, Mahalia said, "Shut the door behind you."
The visitor obliged.
"To what do I owe this surprise, Zachary?" Mahalia turned to meet him.
Zachary had entered with a cheeky smile, but it slowly faded into something sad as he took in the sight of her in the wedding dress.
She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "It must be weird seeing me like this."
He shook his head slowly, his face a mix of admiration and sorrow.
"No... not weird. Just..."
He sighed and averted his gaze.
"You're really marrying him. When Lady Jamon told me this was part of your plan, I didn't want to believe it. Or maybe I did. Still, it's a hard pill to swallow."
"Well, your plan isn't exactly a walk in the garden, either," she retorted.
"I have to do this. This is the only way I can bring Awin down. It's not even about revenge anymore—Awin just has to go."
"I know," Zachary admitted. "But I still can't help worrying."
Mahalia smiled awkwardly, unsure how to reply. "So... why did you want to see me?"
Zachary stepped over to the table and spotted the folded letters. He smiled knowingly. "Invisible ink? Need help delivering them?"
"What—?"
"I'm guessing one's for Lady Jamon, the other for Sir Milton?"
"That's... impressive. You sure you won't mix them up?"
"Are you asking me if I would confuse a letter folded like a bow with one folded like a box? Golly, My lady, I'm not sure" he answered in mock distress
Mahalia rolled her eyes. "Wow. Sarcasm," she said, wiggled her fingers mockingly.
Zachary chuckled, low and rich. When the laughter faded, the room went quiet again—each unsure whether to break the silence.
Zachary spoke first.
"I'm leaving after the ceremony."
"Ah..." Mahalia muttered, as if something clicked.
Zachary nervously ran a hand through his ginger hair. "Just thought I'd tell you. We're comrades, after all—me, you, Rivan, and Jaslin."
"I see." It was all she could say.
More silence. Mahalia didn't know how to feel. They hadn't been friends at first, but over time, she'd come to trust him—maybe even rely on him. The idea that she might never see him again unsettled her.
"I'll take my leave," he said, turning.
"I'm sorry, Zachary."
He paused. "For what?"
"In the past, I called you all sorts of names. Awin's hound, robot, shameless man, lymer, Awin's pet... But now I see you're a good man. A very good man."
Zachary chuckled softly. "I only remember being called 'hound' and 'lymer,' to be fair."
"I'm also sorry," he added.
"For what?"
He shook his head. "Had to say something since we're apologizing. Let's just say... I'm sorry for doing things that made you want to call me those names."
"Zachary—" Mahalia's voice was sad. She wanted to tell him not to blame himself, to thank him—but a voice interrupted from outside the room.
"Your Highness, it's time to leave for the ceremony."
"Already?"
Zachary gave her a bittersweet smile and bowed.
"I'll make sure your letters are delivered," he whispered, and slipped out.
---
The ceremony passed in a blur. Before she knew it, Mahalia was the Queen of Easteford... and Awin's wife. A shiver ran down her spine each time she remembered she was now bound to him.
"You should at least pretend to be interested," Awin whispered in her ear as they watched guests dancing in the ballroom.
It was the reception, and guests were presenting gifts. Mahalia couldn't care less. All she could think about were her letters... and how to end a marriage that had barely begun.
"Why should I?" she replied, scowling. "And next time, don't touch me or come near me without permission."
"If I asked for permission, would you let me?"
"Of course not," she said matter-of-factly.
"And for your information, you forced me into this charade of a marriage. So it's your job to keep up appearances, not mine."
She moved farther from the shared wedding throne.
"May the heavens continuously bless the Sky and Sea, the Sun and Moon of our nation," came a voice.
It was Melinda. It was her turn to present a gift.
Had it not been a formal obligation as a minister and court member, Mahalia was sure Melinda wouldn't have shown up at all. She looked like she hadn't slept in days—dark circles, disheveled, exhausted.
"I present to you this small token," Melinda said, avoiding their eyes.
A servant nervously took the ruby-studded golden pocket watch. Mahalia stifled a laugh.
Awin, however, was not amused. "Is this for me or for my queen? Surely this is not a fitting wedding gift."
Melinda bowed. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I had planned to gift you an exquisite cot for this nation's heir."
Her eyes flicked venomously to Mahalia.
"But my lady-in-waiting, who kept it for me, is nowhere to be found. In my panic, I brought this pocket watch, which I had originally prepared for your birthday, Your Highness. Forgive me."
Mahalia almost laughed. If she loved Awin, or had even wanted to marry him, Melinda's * subtle flirting might have offended her. But even with her distaste for Awin, it was amusing—Melinda had prepared a birthday gift nearly seven months early?
"What did you say?" Awin's voice boomed.
Mahalia turned, startled. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. No—worse than a ghost. Awin looked like someone had plunged a dagger into his chest.
"It was an honest mistake—" Melinda began.
"No. Zarela. You don't know where Zarela is?"
Mahalia's eyes narrowed. Zarela?
"This isn't the first time she's gone off, so I wasn't worried..." Melinda trailed off, confused by Awin's panic.
"What? What do you mean this isn't the first time?" His voice rose. Wedding guests were starting to glance his way.
He tried to compose himself but was clearly rattled.
"She's my lady-in-waiting, not a prisoner. She can go out."
"Idiot! Why do you think I gave her to you?" he snapped.
Awin took a deep breath and turned to Bertrand.
"Get the guards. Have them find Zarela."
Bertrand nodded knowingly and left swiftly.
Mahalia stared at the flustered king.
Is this... weakness I see, Awin?
---
Awin loosened the top buttons of his shirt as he sank into the chair in his study.
"I'm wasting my wedding night in the office—this better be good," he gritted out, downing a glass of whiskey.
Bertrand's look said otherwise.
"We still haven't found your sister, Your Highness."
Awin froze.
"First of all, don't call her my sister. Never call her that."
"Forgive me, Your Highness."
"And secondly, what kind of first-class buffoons do I have as guards? You lot can't find a full-grown woman? What am I paying you to do?"
"Apologies, Your Highness. We didn't mean to disappoint you. We have not relented in our search—before daybreak, we will find her."
Awin rolled his eyes.
"When you do, send her to Melinda's house. And have that idiot meet me."
Bertrand nodded.
"Your Highness, you also have correspondence from Yellow Jay."
Awin perked up.
"What's it about?"
"It came directly from the new master of Yellow Jay."
"Intriguing."
"He wishes to strike a deal with you. Being his most lucrative and powerful client, he's offered to help you find the signet—at all costs—but on the condition that you help him with the fracture currently happening within Yellow Jay."
"Fracture?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Apparently, some within Yellow Jay are unhappy with the new administration. It's caused factional conflict. The new master believes that with your influence, you could solidify his rule."
Awin smiled.
"So if I do something as simple as that, he'll find the signet for me? Then I'll have no need for Zarela—that thorn in my side."
"Shall I send a reply?"
"Yes. Tell him I'll happily oblige."
"Of course, Your Highness," Bertrand said as he left the study.
Awin leaned back and swirled the last sip of whiskey in his glass.
"This new master of Yellow Jay… I must really meet him. Because now I'm certain—I like him."
---
The ship captain bellowed something as the crew loaded cargo. Lucius groggily stumbled aboard, lugging his trunk. He tripped over a rope and cursed.
"Why do we have to leave in the dead of night? When you said 'immediately after the wedding,' this is not what I envisioned."
Zachary rapped him lightly on the head.
"Stop complaining. Time is of the essence."
"I know, I know. There's much to be done, especially with Occident Coast practically collapsing. And yet… you just had to add to your burdens."
Zachary raised an eyebrow.
"I'm talking about that terrorist organization you hijacked. Mellow Bird, was it?"
"Yellow Jay," Zachary corrected with a smirk.
"That's the one. Why would you entangle yourself in something so inauspicious? I get that the nation is struggling, but to lead a terrorist organization?"
Zachary flicked his forehead.
"I don't think you're being loud enough. Want to announce to the entire port that I'm part of a terrorist group?"
"And I'm not even doing it for money, it's just part of my plan?"
"To do what?" Lucius sounded mildly annoyed. "You're going to be prince of the Occident Coast. Sure, Awin poses a problem, but one that requires this elaborate ruse? Why are you doing this?"
Zachary sighed.
There was no lie in Lucius's words. It would be easier—and safer—to focus on restoring his nation.
So why was he doing this?
---
Mahalia looked out the window of her room, facing the sea.
"Has Zachary set off?" she murmured to herself and sighed.
She was a married woman now—whether she liked it or not.
"Maybe I should stop focusing on the fact that I'm Awin's wife, and more on the fact that I'm queen."
The door creaked. Her breath hitched. Was that Awin?
She cursed under her breath and grabbed a hairpin from her neatly coiled bun. She wasn't ready to see him—not yet—and she was definitely going to let him know that.
But the door opened fully and instead of Awin, a woman entered. Mahalia squinted, trying to place her. She'd seen her before, once or twice.
Then it clicked.
Melinda's lady-in-waiting.
Zarela.
Mahalia blinked.
"Isn't this just splendid? The woman the entire palace is searching for… is in my room?"
---
To be continued.