Aether and Nox began to set, casting long shadows through the palace windows, Princess Sutaro found herself once again in her mother's study. Queen Dranir sat behind an imposing desk, her crown glinting in the fading light.

"Sutaro," the Queen began, her voice tight with barely contained frustration, "I've received reports of your behavior during today's etiquette lessons. Your tutor informs me that you questioned the necessity of learning proper tea service. Explain yourself."

Sutaro shifted uncomfortably, but a spark of defiance flashed in her eyes. "Mother, I fail to see how memorizing the correct angle for pouring tea will help me govern a kingdom. Surely there are more pressing matters to study?"

Queen Dranir's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You presume to know better than generations of royal tradition? These customs are the foundation of diplomacy, child. Your inability to grasp their importance is precisely why you are not ready for more... substantial responsibilities."

"But Mother," Sutaro pressed, her voice rising slightly, "how can I ever be ready if you never allow me to—"

"Enough!" Queen Dranir's voice cracked like a whip, causing Sutaro to flinch. The Queen rose from her seat, her towering form casting a shadow over her daughter. "I have had quite enough of your insolence! I see that you lack the maturity and respect for your position. Until you learn to comport yourself as befits an heir to the throne, you will remain nothing more than a disappointment to this family and this kingdom!"

Sutaro's eyes widened, stung by her mother's harsh words. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Tears welling in her eyes, she turned and fled from the study.

As she ran through the corridors, vision blurred by tears, Sutaro barely registered passing her sister Elise. The elder watched her retreating form with a mixture of disdain and pity.

"Pathetic," Elise muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "How can someone so weak ever hope to rule?"

Sutaro reached her chambers and flung herself onto her bed, finally allowing her sobs to break free. She cried until her throat was raw and her pillow was soaked with tears.

Later that evening, Elise found herself in Queen Dranir's study. The Queen looked weary, the weight of the crown seeming heavier than usual.

"Mother," Elise began hesitantly, "about Sutaro... are you certain she's the one? She seems ill-suited for the role of heir."

Queen Dranir sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "To be honest, Elise, I'm no longer certain. I had hoped she would grow into the role, her childish behavior persists. Perhaps... Perhaps she needs to be pushed harder."

Elise nodded thoughtfully. "She's weak, Mother. She lacks the strength needed to lead our people."

"Perhaps," the Queen mused, "or perhaps that strength is there, buried beneath layers of immaturity and self-doubt. Either way, something must change. We cannot afford a weak ruler in these uncertain times."

Princess Sutaro lay curled on her bed, her face buried in her pillow to muffle her sobs. The harsh words of her mother still echoed in her ears, each syllable a fresh wound to her heart.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“She did it again, didn’t she?” the voice asked.

Princess Sutaro lifted her head from her pillow, clutching it near her face as she pouted and thrashed her legs until her heels flew off, passing through the ethereal figure.

With the pillow beside her, she rose from her bed, approached the strange figure, and knelt down to converse with him.

“What..?” he questioned.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Princess Sutaro looked down, then straightened

herself. “Charles, forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

Little and agile, gifted beyond measure, Charles was only a specter, a lost soul with unresolved business, his former vessel a mink. With nowhere else to go, he had found Princess Sutaro, seeking to console someone who had suffered as much as he had. Over their two years of acquaintance, Sutaro had learned to trust Charles.

She kept him in her room, and he offered guidance when needed, choosing to reveal his presence to only a select few.

As the princess wept, her tears falling like rain, Charles drifted closer, his translucent form hovering near. He held her hand, his touch cold but comforting.

“When will she recognize me?!” Sutaro sobbed. “I only want to live my own life; I don’t want all this!”

Charles' ears perked up with an idea as she wept more, tears trickling down her face and onto the ground. He gave her a quick pat on the thigh, sensing how she would respond before making his proposition. She gave him a disapproving look and let out a short sniffle.

“What if we flee?” he suggested.

Sutaro gave him a dubious glance. Her voice broke and crumbled away, “What do you mean?”

Charles released her hand and sat on the bed, and she soon followed. “What if we left this place behind together? Discover a new direction, a new life?”

“Charles, too many guards surround the borders of Fawful. We can’t.”

“What about during the festival? You can sneak away where no one is patrolling! I’ll lead you while everyone else is distracted… And who cares if we don’t go very far—we can walk away! What counts is that we made an effort.”

Sutaro wore a disdainful and perplexed expression. Would it be prudent to flee to the distant regions of Nexus? Would her mother pursue her with the royal guard?

“You can say that easily, Charles. You’re a ghost, you’re invisible everywhere you go.”

Charles straightened his seat and re-held her hand. “You have to believe me. Come on! You don’t know these walls as well as I do.”

Sutaro dried her tears and gave his suggestion some thought. Since she could always rely on Charles in the past, why not do so now?

“Charles, tell me your plan later. I have some things to take care of.” Sutaro got out of bed, straightening her dress leaving Charles to think about their escape plan as he paced the room in an attempt to come up with an escape route.

Sutaro strapped her tossed heels back on and secured them to her ankles.

Legend had it that once a person walked into the badlands and departed from one of the three great kingdoms of Nexus, they never returned.

An idea struck itself in the mind of the phantom.

He shouldered past a forest of identical dresses, their colors a mockery of variety. At the closet's heart: suitcases. Leaden with secrets.

A drawer yielded treasure - royal ingots gleaming dully. His fingers danced over cold metal, scooping wealth into a makeshift sack.

The balcony beckoned. Night air kissed his face as a plan crystallized, dangerous and sweet as stolen gold.