A carriage rolled into the courtyard.
It came to a halt at the entrance.
The door opened.
"Nancy, hurry!" a voice called from within. "We're late!"
"I'll be down in a jiffy," came the reply.
Moments later—
She stepped out.
And the world seemed to pause.
A young woman stood before them—radiant, poised, and undeniably captivating.
Her elegance was effortless.
Her presence commanding.
She moved with confidence, flipping her hair as though the attention of the entire courtyard meant nothing to her.
"Done," she said lightly. "Shall we?"
Kabul's breath caught.
His eyes locked onto hers.
Everything else faded.
The noise.
The crowd.
The ceremony.
Gone.
"She…" he whispered to himself, awe-struck. "She will be my queen someday."
The words came with certainty.
As if fate itself had spoken through him.
"When I ascend the throne… she will stand beside me."
At the throne, King Liam rose to greet their guests.
"To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" he asked warmly, bowing slightly.
Lady Elora stepped forward, her expression carrying quiet exhaustion.
"I bring news…" she said softly. "From our land."
"News…?" Liam repeated.
He turned slightly.
"Kabul. Abenator. Come."
The two princes stepped forward.
"Lady Elora," Liam continued, "these are my sons—Prince Kabul and Prince Abenator."
"Your Highness," the princes said in unison, bowing respectfully.
"Please," Liam said, gesturing forward, "accompany our distinguished guests to the Throne Room."
As Kabul stepped closer—
His eyes met Nancy's once more.
This time, neither looked away.
Something unspoken passed between them.
A quiet connection.
A beginning.
"With pleasure," Lady Elora replied.
Abenator stepped forward as well, bowing slightly.
But as he lowered his head—
A faint, hidden smile curved across his lips.
Dark.
Calculating.
Watching.
Abenator stood slightly apart from the others.
His gaze lingered… not on the guests, not on the celebration—
But on Kabul.
A faint smile crept across his lips.
"Perfect…" he muttered under his breath.
His eyes darkened.
"It's time to get my revenge."
As a quiet spark began to form between Kabul and Nancy…
Something else, far more dangerous, took root.
Unseen.
Unnoticed.
Unstoppable.
While Kabul and Abenator escorted Lady Elora and Nancy toward the inner halls, King Liam remained behind—greeting nobles, dignitaries, and travelers from distant lands.
Laughter and conversation filled the courtyard.
Until—
A final horse's neigh echoed sharply through the castle walls.
And then—
The air shifted.
Throne Room – Evening
The grand hall of Taytozena stood in quiet elegance.
Golden banners hung from towering pillars. Intricate carvings lined the walls, telling stories of a kingdom built from hope and unity. Warm light bathed the chamber, giving it a sense of peace… of belonging.
Lady Elora stepped forward, her eyes drifting across the room, taking in every detail.
"This kingdom feels… different," she said softly. "What is your secret?"
Kabul opened his mouth to respond.
"Well… it's nothing—"
"We take every native to heart."
The words cut through the air.
Cold.
Sharp.
Final.
Abenator stepped forward, his tone dismissive, almost mocking.
"Nothing special."
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
The room froze.
Lady Elora's brows lifted slightly, her expression shifting from curiosity to unease. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward Kabul.
Kabul stood still, caught between embarrassment and confusion.
At the doorway—
King Liam watched.
Silent.
Observing.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Something was wrong.
What's that supposed to mean, Prince Abenator?"
Nancy's voice broke the silence.
She rose from her seat, her gaze unwavering, bold and unafraid.
"Are you tired of living in the shadows?" she continued. "Is that why you try so hard for people to notice you?"
Abenator laughed.
Low.
Cold.
"Me? Living in the shadows?" he repeated, his eyes locking onto hers.
"I have everything a prince could ever want—fame… power… wealth."
He took a slow step forward.
"I don't need to crawl at anyone's feet for pity."
"Nancy—" Kabul began.
But Abenator was already moving.
Circling.
Slowly.
Like a predator closing in on its prey.
"Tell me…" he said, his voice dropping lower. "Does it hurt to hear the truth?"
Before the tension could snap—
Kabul stepped in.
He grabbed Abenator's arm firmly.
"Not here," he said quietly. "This place holds power. Control yourself."
Abenator's body went still.
Then trembled.
"Let… go… of my hand, Kabul."
"I'm the one you're angry with," Kabul replied. "Not them. Take it out on me."
Something in Abenator broke.
"Don't force my hand… brother."
His voice shook with barely restrained rage.
"I'll say it again…"
"LET GO."