*Ana*
No, I swear I heard it this time. I know I did. It was too clear. Too loud.
"Ana."
It's not just the sound of it—it's the way it curls right into my ear, as if someone leaned in and whispered it from just behind my shoulder. So close I almost feel the warmth of breath, the brush of lips near my cheek. I stiffen. The quill slips from my fingers, landing softly on the parchment. My skin prickles.
I glance up from my desk, heart jumping, eyes sweeping the room.
But for once, Hidi is not talking. She's hunched over, her hand flying across a page as she pens something with her usual dramatic flair. A silent Hidi is rare. No, It wasn't her.
So who? I press a palm to my chest, feeling the faint thud beneath it. The voice calling my name… it sounded like Nicoli.
But how can that be possible? He's nowhere near here. Nicoli is miles and miles away, all the way in Dawny. There's no way I could have heard him.
It can't be but yet–
My breath stutters, and something strange pulses in my ribs. It wasn't the name itself, but the sound of it. The weight of it. He sounded...sad. So unlike him.
My sweet, always-smiling Nicoli, the boy who could brighten even this gray fortress of a palace with a single grin. That voice couldn't belong to him—not the him I remember. This one was softer. Strained. Almost broken.
Was something happening in Dawny? Was he… hurt?
A shadow passes through me, one I can't quite shake. It makes my hands cold. My fingers curl against the desk's wood as I try to steady myself, but my pulse flutters like a frightened bird.
No, this has to be something else. A trick. I've read about these things—auditory hallucinations, phantom echoes. The mind is trying to make sense of noise and memory. A crackle from the fireplace, perhaps? Or the wind outside the window.
Yes, that must be it.
Still, I sit back slowly, my chair creaking beneath me as I glance behind me. My scarlet eyes are the only color reflecting back. Otherwise, it's all shades of dim grey.
Outside, the sky hangs low and heavy. Charcoal-colored clouds swirl and weave, overcasting every corner. A cast of gray shadows blurs the edges, standing out against the white stone and the mountains of sand beyond it.
Winter is on its way. I can feel it pressing against the very windows. Threatening to come in and freeze us over, despite the roar of the fire burning steadily in the room. It is still too early for snow… not that it matters, of course.
Snow never falls on Nochten.
I used to wish for it, back when I was small. Back when the afternoons were too hot and the silence too loud. When I was still by myself, before anything, I'd stare at book illustrations, imagining what it might feel like—cold air, soft flakes melting on my skin.
That was before Maddie.
I remember the first time she came in and pinched my shawl, fingers rubbing the faded gold stitches. I feel a soft grounding as the memory pulls a familiar ache in my chest, but it is not sharp anymore. Just a soft, quiet squeeze before it's gone again.
Without thinking, I lift a fold of the shawl to my nose and breathe in. There's nothing of her there—not anymore. Just the faint, comforting trace of my own sandalwood hair oil. But for a moment, I pretend. Pretend I can still catch the ghost of the laundry soap Maddie always smelled like, the kind that clung to her skirts and sleeves, fresh and warm. Of course, it's long gone. Still, I close my eyes.
I realize my heart is healing. The bitterness and confusion I once held have worn down into something somewhere between soft resentment and more fondness, thinking back to our short time together, not with regret but more like sorrowful gratitude. And some part wants me even to thank her.
I don't think about her as often now—not with anger or betrayal, just… with remembrance. No, it's gratitude for all that she has done.
Because no matter how it ended, it was Maddie who insisted I write those letters. That I reach out to Father, it was Maddie who nudged me—no, pushed me—to reach out. Even when I didn't want to. I was afraid to. That I thought nothing would come of it--she never stopped.
She was the one who shoved the door open for me.
Without her, would I even be here?
My hand drops from the edge of the desk, brushing the windowpane. The cold glass jolts me, sharp enough to draw a shiver from my spine. But it's grounding, too. Real.
No—I'd still be in that room, staring out the window, dreaming of a family I'd never meet. I'd never have known Father's warmth and kindness, or Nicoli's impulsive smiles and warm arms. I can't imagine life without them now. I don't want to.
Maddie, for all the things she did… brought me that.
She gave them to me. A smile tugs faintly at the edge of my mouth. It's not bright. Not happy. But it's real.
And maybe… maybe that's enough.
Behind me, something shifts from the couches, a rustle of velvet and crinoline. I glance over my shoulder to find a pair of peridot-colored eyes fixed on me, curious and quietly watchful.
Hidi tilts her head. "Ana?" she calls, a smile already breaking across her lips. She always smiles so easily, as if it's nothing. So different from me, so carefree, but I've learned to like it over our time together.
"What are you doing staring off like that?"
"I-it's nothing." I wave a dismissive hand and turn back in my chair, fingers brushing against the discarded quill. "I thought I heard my name called just now. But clearly no one has."
Because it couldn't have been Nicoli, that was ridiculous. Perhaps it's just my subconscious saying I need to write to him again? That must be all it is.
"I'm sure it was just the wind outside," I add, forcing a shrug. The words feel hollow, but they sound reasonable enough.
Behind me, the giant shifts, her seat creaking.
"Someone called your name?" Hidi repeats, blinking before sitting straighter. A spark of mischief ignites in her gaze. Her lips spread into an interested grin. "My, that sounds so mysterious. I wonder who it could be. Do you think it's a ghost?"
My spine locks up. "Hidi," I snap before I can help myself. My gaze cuts to her in warning. She knows better than to bring up ghosts.
Hidi only shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh come on, Ana. It was a joke. You vampires and your silly taboos about the dead."
She flicks a blonde braid over her shoulder and returns to her tiny portable writing desk—a delicate, boxy thing with drawers and little compartments. It looks absurdly small beneath her large hands, like a toy made for a child. And yet, she's been writing for some time now, bent over in uncharacteristic focus.
It's rare to see her take anything so seriously, I can't help but be curious.
My eyes flick to the small stack of papers on the cushion beside her. There are quite a few. All are written in beautiful, albeit overly dramatic loops. What was it? Legal work? Letters? Trade disputes with Almony? It's enough to make her focused, so it has to be something important.
"What are you up to, Hidi?" I ask, leaning forward slightly, wanting to know as a ruler to a ruler. Something I don't feel like we have enough of. I'd love to hear her thoughts. "Are you working on things for the estate?"
She snorts. "Gods, no." A wry look flashes across her face. "I left Mama to do all that stuff."
"You let your mother—" The words falter. Is that...normal? Shrug off their responsibilities to someone else?
Though it isn't just anyone, I counter. Her mother was the previous queen. It would be her if anyone knew how to run the country in their absence. But still, that feels off to me. Like Hidi should be, I don't know, more responsible?
She should be doing more, shouldn't she? I would not be so hands off if it was me. I know that, because of years of having to deal with Aunt and Uncle being Regents. Those frustrating years... I cringe at the familiar feelings of being unheard.
No, I would never go back to that again.
"I'm writing a letter," she says suddenly, flipping to a fresh page. Her tone softens, surprising me. "To my beloved."
The words land like a stone in my stomach.
"You have a lover?" My voice slips out too quickly, too high.
I blink at her. Hidi. A lover. Since when? How?
Her cheeks flush a little as she folds the letter, surprisingly gentle for someone with such broad fingers. "It's a secret," she murmurs.
A secret? My mind trips over the word.
By secret, does she mean it could be a scandal? A forbidden affair?
I want to ask—but find the words stuck in my throat. I hold my breath, surprised and eager to hear more, but the usually boisterous giant becomes rather subdued. Her eyes growing softer as her lips grace a small but sweet smile. Hidi, who speaks so freely about everything, suddenly seems guarded. The softness in her face tells me it's real. And it's hers.
Does Hidi not want to tell me? I'm surprised. But I consider her silence as saying just that. I swallow.
"I see," I say quietly. "Then I'll respect your privacy."
Not that I know what to do with this information. I know nothing about lovers. Love, affection—it's all foreign. I've read about it in books, silly stories with dramatic confessions and starry-eyed girls. Lots of fluff and no substance.
I am out of my depth in this area.
Love is…not something I expect to know. Not for myself. So, I would be of little help.
"How's yours going?" Hidi asks suddenly, her voice light as she dips her quill again. "I hope you write him a lot. He seems quite eager to hear from you."
"Him?" I echo, blinking.
She rolls her eyes, grinning. "You haven't even thought about it, have you? Honestly, Ana. This is why he keeps pestering me. I mean Nicoli."
"Oh. That." My shoulders sag a little. "You mean my letter to—" I trail off, glancing toward the stack of books waiting on my desk.
"I was going to write," I say at last, brushing my fingers over the edge of a page. "But things have been… busy."
The work never ends. My announcement to the court about the Bulgeons was just the start. There's still the matter of arranging delegates, smoothing relations between the Bulgeons. Creating a positive rapport between us, to prove we are trustworthy before we can even think of opening conversation.
Which has…been something of a challenge. I sigh softly at the newest hurdle. But it is only a matter of time and goodwill that they see we mean no harm.
The smallest step forward always feels like dragging a stone uphill, as I've read before.
"I will write," I promise softly. "Once things settle a little."
"No need to rush," Hidi hums. "Besides, it makes it better for me, anyway."
I glance up. "For you?" What does that mean? Why would I not write to Nicoli better for her? But she doesn't hear me.
She's distracted, sealing her envelope with a wax stick over the low flame of the candle beside her. Her head dips, steady as she presses the stamp. Golden wax pools and hardens beneath it. An official letter from Almony.
"Well," she says, waving the envelope gently to dry, "whenever you do send it, I'm sure Nicoli will be thrilled."
She giggles, a strange little trill, and adds, "But until then, he'll have to keep asking me."
As she waves the envelope, my eyes catch a brief glance at the address. It's addressed to Dawny, but more importantly, I see Nicoli's name. Or at least I think I do.
I freeze.
Didn't she say she was writing to her lover? My stomach clenches uneasily as something thick swells in my throat.
My eyes flick to her face, but Hidi doesn't look back. She rings the brass bell for the servants, her expression unreadable.
"Hidi?" I manage, and my voice is thinner than before. Why was the letter addressed to Nicoli? But she doesn't hear me. Or pretends not to.
I sit back, unsure if I should say anything else. The air feels too still now. The fire crackles on, but it doesn't warm me the way it did before.
Something cold crept under my skin, and I didn't know why.
The chime of the bell breaks the silence, just as the servant's door creaks open.
Naska steps in, spine stiff, red eyes instantly narrowing at the sight of Hidi like a cat spotting a dog in its territory. Her pale hands are folded too neatly in front of her muslin tunic. Her claws slightly out for some reason, clenching at the cloth.
Of course, she's not happy. When is Naska ever happy to work?
Hidi doesn't even bother to acknowledge her presence at first. She extends the letter in one hand with casual disinterest, eyes still scanning the folds of her skirt. "Send this out, chop chop."
Only then does she glance up. Her lips curl in a slow, bemused twist, gaze dragging over Naska in a deliberately condescending way. "Lest that's too hard for the likes of you."
Naska bristles instantly. Her composure cracks like thin glass—brows yanking low, the sharp flash of fang just beginning to peek beneath her upper lip.
"The likes of—You insufferable—"
I tap my desk once, sharp. "Naska," I say in warning. Not unkind, but firm. I'm too used to her temper.
Her jaw locks. Shoulders stiff. She swallows it down, nostrils flaring like a horse reined in too hard. "Yes, Your Majesty," With a curt nod, she steps forward and snatches the letter with a flick of red hair. Her body stiffens as she turns on her heel, before I see a shaky brush of red hair peep out from behind her legs. Instantly, it made me brighten with joy at the sight.
He's here.
"Bruno! There you are!" I rise from my desk to come over and find the boy eagerly smiling back. Spying another gap in his smile. He's losing his baby teeth now. He's growing so fast. I realize. Soon enough, his fangs will start to show.
"Everyone is assembled, for court," he announces proudly, straightening his spine like a soldier–no, like one of the knights he is so fond of from our stories. "They are waiting on you."
"Perfect, Bruno." What a good boy he is. I reach out, wanting to ruffle his hair.
But Naska shifts again, stepping neatly in between us. "If that will be all," she says, not bothering to look at me. Her voice is clipped.
Bruno lowers his gaze. "Your Empress," he says quietly, bowing. He starts to follow Naska toward the servant's door. But not before looking back to smile at me. I give him a little wave back, trying to hide how much it warms me. Sweet boy. He reminds me of Nicoli when we were young. Eager. Kind.
Naska turns just enough to see it. Her gaze catches mine—and though her mouth doesn't move, I can feel the weight of her displeasure like a fog curling beneath the door as she disappears through it.
Hidi stretches with a long yawn. "Ah, I guess the party is getting started. Shall we?"
"Yes, let—" I pause as someone steps into the doorway. Sapphire eyes immediately catch mine before I can see his smile.
"Papa?" I brighten instinctively. "What are you doing here? You should be waiting in the courtroom."
"You ready?" Father asks, holding out his arm to me.
I cross the room to take it, slipping my arm through his. "Yes," I say, a smile breaking over my face. "I am prepared."
For once, I actually feel it. I am excited to go. The weight of uncertainty that usually coils tight in my stomach is lighter today. With my father on one side and Hidi close behind, the court no longer feels so hostile. Little by little, I am gaining support.
And maybe—just maybe—today's meeting will bring the good news I've been waiting for. A sliver of opportunity, the first real step toward establishing a delegation with the Bulgeons. If the right voices back it, we can begin shaping their path to citizenship. A real future for them. A real victory for us.
I glance toward the hall, imagining it—our allies assembled, my voice steady, the room listening. Maybe today is the day everything starts moving forward.
"That's my girl," Father murmurs, and he bops my nose like he used to when I was small.
We head out together, and Hidi falls into step behind us, humming a tune under her breath. I walk with my chin lifted, trying not to let the hope rise too high in my chest. But still, I can't help it.
Maybe this time, it will finally begin.