Memories are ephemeral. I can’t remember what happened after a pool of that searing color trickled off the platform: I just remember feeling very sick. It’s much later in the day before I regain any sense of awareness. I wake up to find myself back in the cage called a crib. The room is dark and the air is suffocating.

I don’t have the chance to wonder how long I’ve been—or what happened before I fell—asleep. A pair of gold, reptilian eyes staring down at me capture my full attention. A slender, but fit figure with dark hair and a porcelain face leans over the crib.

Only a handful of people ever enter the nursery. I don’t know this person. Seeing I’m awake, he flashes a toothy grin.

While there’s nothing particularly threatening in his gaze, the sheer intensity behind it scares me. It’s the look of a predator eying its next meal. Worse than that is the feeling of a heavy weight pressing against my small frame. The longer he holds his stare, the more it feels as if I’m being crushed by it. My chest burns and I can’t pull myself away. All I can do is look back up in horror at the intruder.

What do I do…? What can I do? I still barely know how to stand up straight—nevermind fight an assassin! Hardly anyone ever comes to check on me during the night, but if I scream now will someone come for me? Wait, no… Where are Father’s knights in the first place? Shouldn’t they have been nearby?!

My chest continues to ache and I steel myself. I can feel my heart hammering against my ribcage as if it’s trying to burst through. Two other feelings bubble up amid the wave of fear: Anger at the fact that someone would try to take my life when I’ve hardly had the chance to do anything with it and indignity that they would come after me, of all people.

I am Adasa Danica Calligan, Ducal Princess of the Casila Empire. The people of Casila do not shrink in front of an enemy. The nobles of Casila bow to no one outside of their own hierarchy.     

Even as my eyes begin to sting, I stare down my attacker.

The killing blow never comes. The man’s eyes widen a bit, then he releases a jeering, drawn-out laugh. I flinch as he reaches down only to soon find myself in his arms. Somehow, his solid, but careful grip only makes me even more afraid.

A sudden memory flashes through my mind of one of the maids capturing a moth that had managed to finds its way in the nursery. It was so delicate that the brush of its wings scattered its own dust across her fingertips. With the slightest pressure, she’d crushed it in a handkerchief and left behind only a powdered stain.

Right now, I can very much sympathize with the moth.

Without warning, the man then carries me out of the nursery. He walks silently and assuredly down the palace’s ornamented halls—it’s as if he’s more at-home here than I am. He knows his way around well-enough that he never once pauses at any split along his path.

I recognize a lot more than usual too, as strange as that is. As many beautiful decorations line the walls, any one of them typically only keep my attention for a short time. They have always been easily forgotten at the turn of a corner, as if they never existed in the first place.

Now though? Even though I’m not used to seeing these halls this late into night, bathed in long shadows, I know the place of everything—and the words that belong to them—all too well.  I’m almost confident that, if left alone, I could remember the way back to the nursery myself without a problem. I don’t know why, but it’s like the world has suddenly come into sharp focus.

I should be excited, but I’m not. All this sudden awareness does is make me feel even more uneasy. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I think like before? My mouth tightens and an involuntary whine reverberates from my throat.

“Hush now,” orders the stranger. His tone isn’t particularly threatening, but it’s not reassuring either. I force myself to keep quiet all the same.

What does he want?  If he was going to kill me, he’d probably have done it already. If he’s trying to kidnap me, he doesn’t try sneaking out of any of the palace’s wide windows or even go down to the first floor to find another exit.

Instead, he takes me to a room I don’t think I’ve ever been in before. He knocks on one of its large, double-doors.

A voice calls from inside, “You may come in.”

Father! Sure enough, once I’m carried in, I see him sitting at a busy desk facing us. He doesn’t notice who we are at first, reading over a collection of papers. When he finally does look up though, his face pales. He rises to his feet, his gaze flickering between the dark-haired stranger and me, “Leander…”

Rather than offer a proper greeting, the man looks at my father with a self-assured grin, “What a beautiful daughter you have, Grand Duke.”

My father says nothing, walking around the desk only to stop alongside it. He doesn’t move any closer.

“She’s a brave child. I can see it in her eyes,” the former continues in a terrifying purr. “And I sense that she’s inherited your aura. You must be quite proud to have an heir with this much potential.”

Again, he hesitates to speak, “Thank you…”

“You wouldn’t happen to have that brandy I sampled when I last visited, would you? I’ve been craving a glass.”

The sudden request stirs him into action. He moves toward a table lined with spirits to our right and begins to pour. I grimace. The fact that this man could order around someone as proud as my father, as if he were a mere servant, makes me inwardly recoil. Worse than that, however, is the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do or say about it. In this situation, I’m no better than a hostage.

Taking the glass in one hand and keeping me pinned against his chest with the other, the stranger sits at one of the study’s twin, opposing sofas. He motions for my father to sit across from him and the latter complies, not bothering to take a sip of the second drink he poured for himself.

“You know, I’ve always appreciated your selection of spirits,” the stranger raises his glass to his lips, “Sad to say it, but our Emperor knows more of expense than of taste.”

Father clears his throat, “What brings you here?”

“It’s just a casual visit. Must I come only on business?”

“No… Of course, not.”

“I was a bit surprised to see you at the square this morning. Wasn’t your late wife from Artea? Ah, yes—Third Princess Eira, was it?”

At last, my father takes a drink, “She was part of the Secular Faction.”

A rush of information seems to flood my mind as they continue to speak. Although the kingdom itself was too small to hold much power against its neighbors, Artea’s Church was widely considered the center of the religious world. Until recent years, anyway. Both a general shift in faith and raised questions of the Church’s ethics created a division in Artea’s population that reached a political level—a division that the Casila Empire took full advantage of.

I’ve overheard my father talking about the subjugation of Artea from time to time, enough to know how close the empire is to taking it over completely. Today’s events, the beheading of its high priests, was the climax of that process.  Now, it’s a matter of waiting to see how the other nations will react.

I don’t know much about the faith itself to have an opinion on it. However, for some reason, the sight of the executions plays back vividly in my mind: The blood, the sheer savagery of the crowd, and that fervid priest’s final words… I couldn’t get them out of my head if I tried.

That level of violence is nothing I’m not already used to. I’ve seen it in this very house, from punished servants who failed to perform well to bodies dragged past the nursery doors in the middle of the night. Screams and curses echoing through the halls became a regular melody. I haven’t feared those sounds in a long time. But that promise of Casila’s ruin… Strangely enough, I do fear that, even knowing that it was likely just the empty threat of a dying man.

The empire wouldn’t crumble easily. Aside from already covering a vast amount of territory, our people are known for warfare. Every family, even among the nobility, consists of fighters. In the future, I too will learn the art of battle. So, what is this horrible feeling?

“Does the Emperor plan to go after the Church’s dissenters?”

“No, their in-fighting has done us well so far,” the stranger explains, finishing off his drink, “Besides, if we were to purge them entirely, the people would be more likely to rebel. Let them fall to their own hands.”

I notice his golden eyes fall back on me and shrink under his piercing gaze. Why? I haven’t done anything, but it feels like he’s reading me. A shiver moves up my spine.

“The Grand Duke also played his part well in the subjugation,” he sets the glass aside, lifting me up in both arms to face him. I fight to keep my mouth in a firm line. “I heard you were given a small region. Who knows… After Artea has become a part of the empire, the princess might enjoy visiting her mother’s homeland.”

A nervous edge returns to Father’s otherwise stiff expression, “Do you like children, Leander?”

“I don’t dislike them. I find them curious, that’s all.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you with any of your own.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t have any and I don’t plan to. The Emperor’s brood are already a handful.”

To my relief, he stands up and finally hands me over to my father. Rough, callused hands dig through my gown and into my skin as he draws me into a secure embrace.  I’m not disillusioned enough to believe in any kind of actual love from him, but at least I know he cares for me enough as his only offspring to try to keep me safe from this unwanted visitor.

Still, the fear doesn’t leave his eyes. I’ve never known Father to be afraid of anything. Just who is this person that can break into our home as he pleases? That can speak to my father and of the Emperor so casually? I draw a fist to my chest. The suffocating ache from earlier has long passed, but the memory of it stays.

“So far, this next generation looks to be quite promising,” the man sees himself out of the room, “I look forward to seeing what they might accomplish.”