Nahra strode through the grand halls of the Great Kalkan Palace, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floors. Beside her, Maya walked in step, her elven features sharp and alert, yet softened by a faint smile as she watched the princess’s face twist into a familiar look of frustration. The palace was a marvel, every inch of it designed to impress, from the gilded arches that stretched overhead to the intricate mosaics lining the walls, depicting scenes of the kingdom’s history in vibrant tiles of blue, gold, and emerald.

Carved wooden doors adorned with intricate floral patterns marked each room, and the corridors were lined with statues of past rulers, their gazes cold and regal, watching over the realm they’d helped to shape. Towering stained-glass windows threw colorful patches of light across the floors, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns as the sunlight filtered through. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of conquest and diplomacy, a constant reminder of the Federation’s power and the legacy Nahra was expected to uphold.

But for Nahra, these halls held no enchantment. She had walked them a thousand times, knew every corner and every stairwell. The grandeur had long since lost its luster, and today, more than ever, she felt the weight of her fate pressing down on her. She huffed, folding her arms across her chest as they continued down the hall. “It’s so unfair,” she muttered, barely hiding the bitterness in her tone. “All these expectations, all these rules—no one even asks me what I want.”

Maya arched an eyebrow, keeping her gaze forward, though her lips quirked up in a small smile. “What you want?” she teased gently. “Princess, you already have more freedom than most. You’re not exactly struggling.”

Nahra shot her a look, her reddish-pink eyes flashing with irritation. “Freedom?” she echoed. “I’m free to walk around the palace and free to smile at suitors, but that’s about it. Do you know what my father expects of me? To marry and serve as some political pawn, without so much as a word in the matter.”

Maya listened, though she couldn’t help but think of the countless luxuries Nahra enjoyed, things that most people in Bulsi-Jan could only dream of. A personal library, clothes of the finest fabrics, tutors, food prepared by the palace’s top chefs. But Maya knew better than to remind her of these privileges outright. Instead, she nodded sympathetically. “And speaking of suitors…” She paused, giving Nahra a sidelong glance, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “The talk is that your father is considering Duke Ames’s eldest son from the Nonrakey Region. Ever hear of him?”

Nahra groaned, rolling her eyes. “Him? Really? The one from Nonrakey? My father might as well just announce me as a bargaining chip.”

“Oh, it’s not so terrible,” Maya said, trying to keep her tone light. “Rumor has it that he’s quite handsome. His name’s Alder, I think. Alder Ames. Respectful, gentle, not the smartest, but maybe that’s a blessing—means he might give you some space. Word is, he’s not even that invested in romance. He may even like men, if whispers can be believed.”

Nahra looked at her incredulously, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “So, I’d be married to someone who doesn’t care about me? That’s your solution?”

Maya shrugged, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Well, think of it this way: you’d have some freedom. Maybe even enough freedom to keep Malin around as your little ‘secret lover.’”

The blush deepened on Nahra’s cheeks, and she sputtered, her voice lowering to an indignant whisper. “Maya! It’s not like that with him.”

Maya chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, please. You light up whenever you’re around him, and he practically beams every time he sees you. I’m not saying it’s written in the stars, but... well, maybe it’s close.”

Nahra turned away, biting her lip as her face softened, her gaze distant. “Malin doesn’t deserve that,” she murmured, almost to herself, her tone wistful. “If he’s to be with someone, he deserves to be with them completely, without hiding or shame.”

Maya’s expression softened as she observed Nahra. She knew how the princess felt about Malin—anyone with eyes could see it, even if Nahra wouldn’t admit it to herself. Maya wanted to tell her that life was rarely so simple, that love often came with complications, but before she could speak, a guard approached, his armor gleaming under the palace’s opulent lighting.

“Princess Nahra,” he announced formally, his voice steady. “Your presence is requested in the throne room. The Sultan awaits.”

Nahra’s face fell, the brief spark of freedom she’d felt during her conversation with Maya fading as quickly as it had come. She gave Maya one last look, a resigned smile on her lips. “Duty calls, I suppose,” she said with a sigh.

Maya placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Chin up, Princess. I’ll be right here when you need me.”

Nahra nodded, drawing herself up as she prepared to meet her father, the Sultan of the Kalkan Federation, her steps taking on the grace and poise expected of royalty. She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and entered the corridor that would lead her to the throne room, knowing that her future was being decided with every step she took.

The throne room was vast, with tall pillars carved from white marble stretching up to a vaulted ceiling, where golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the rich tapestries and intricate mosaics that lined the walls. Nahra walked in with practiced grace, though her heart fluttered as her gaze fell upon her father seated on the grand throne. Sultan Amir Kalkan sat with the commanding presence of a king who had lived many lives and faced countless trials. He was broad-shouldered, his frame solid and imposing, yet softened by a slight fullness in his form—a hint of age and comfort that showed he was no longer the young warrior he once was.

A few faint scars marked his weathered face, remnants of old battles that spoke of his time on the front lines, fighting for the Federation and defending its people. His eyes, deep and steady, held the strength and wisdom of a ruler, yet when they fell upon his daughter, there was a warmth that softened his expression, a rare gentleness reserved only for her.

“Nahra, my light,” he greeted her, his voice deep and resonant, but with an unmistakable fondness.

Nahra couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face as she approached him, offering a polite bow before standing upright. “Father,” she replied, her tone respectful but warm. “You called for me?”

Sultan Amir’s eyes twinkled with a familiar mischief as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Since when have you taken to bowing before me? That’s not the Nahra I raised.”

She laughed softly, the formality dissolving as she relaxed under his gaze. “Oh, well, I thought I’d try to show a bit of respect. Since you’re the grand Sultan and all,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Amir chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound, before pushing himself up from the throne with a slight grunt. His age might have softened him, but the power of his presence remained intact. He crossed the room in a few steps, enveloping her in a strong embrace, pulling her close in a way that was both comforting and rare. He held her for a moment, as if cherishing the moment before releasing her, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked down at her with pride and affection.

“Come, walk with me,” he said, gesturing toward a door that led to the palace gardens. “It’s far too stuffy in here for a proper conversation.”

Nahra’s curiosity piqued as she followed her father, noting the unusual request. Normally, their meetings in the throne room were brief and formal, matters of court and duty. But this felt different, personal. As they stepped into the corridor, Sultan Amir waved off the waiting guards and servants with a simple gesture. They fell back respectfully, leaving the Sultan and his daughter to their private path, the heavy doors of the throne room closing behind them.

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They passed through the winding hallways of the palace, eventually arriving at the gardens at its heart—a hidden oasis of greenery that seemed almost otherworldly in the midst of the grand stone walls. The air was filled with the scent of jasmine and lavender, and a small fountain bubbled softly at the garden’s center. Tall trees offered shade, their branches entwined overhead like a natural canopy, dappling the ground in patterns of sunlight and shadow.

Amir took a deep breath of the fresh air, his gaze drifting over the garden with a faint smile. “Ah, there’s nothing like the scent of jasmine in the morning. Your mother loved this place, you know,” he said, his voice softening with a hint of sorrow. “She’d sit right by that fountain, reading or simply enjoying the peace.”

Nahra’s heart ached as she looked at her father, seeing the sadness flicker in his eyes, a sadness he’d carried quietly ever since her mother’s passing. He had never remarried, never sought another companion, choosing instead to devote himself to the kingdom and to raising her, his only child. She knew how deeply he loved her, even if his duty often required him to set aside their shared desires for the good of the realm.

“I miss her too,” Nahra whispered, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

He nodded, placing a rough, warm hand over hers for a moment before letting go. “You are so much like her,” he murmured, his gaze far away. But then, he cleared his throat, straightening as he looked at her with that familiar, steady expression of the Sultan. “Nahra, I called you here because there is something important we must discuss.”

She felt a pang of dread settle in her stomach, but she hid it well, holding her father’s gaze with a calm she’d learned to master over the years. “I’m listening, Father.”

He paused, as if weighing his words, before he continued. “It’s time, Nahra. The kingdom needs alliances, stability. And I have… received an offer. One that would be both politically sound and beneficial to our people.”

Nahra’s heart sank, but she kept her face composed, unwilling to let her disappointment show. She knew what this meant—knew that the freedom she’d longed for, the life she’d hoped to choose for herself, was slipping away, as inevitable as the tide. “And who is this offer from?” she asked quietly, though she already knew the answer.

“Duke Ames of the Nonrakey Region,” Amir replied, his tone measured. “His eldest son, Alder, is a promising young man. The Nonrakey Region is powerful, rich in natural resources. An alliance with them would strengthen our position, secure the Federation’s stability. Alder is… well, he has a good reputation. He is respectful, honorable, and gentle.”

Nahra’s mind spun, her thoughts flickering between the young duke she barely knew and the quiet moments she had shared with Malin. She remembered the warmth in his eyes, the laughter they shared, the simple comfort she felt in his presence. But Malin was just a baker, a man of humble means, while she was a princess, bound by duty and tradition. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, each syllable a reminder of the life she was meant to lead.

“Father,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “I understand the importance of the kingdom’s stability, and I would never defy your wishes.” Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the emotions she fought to keep in check. “But… must it really be him?”

Amir’s face softened, and he reached out, taking her hand in his own. “Nahra, you are my daughter, and I love you more than anything in this world. But as Sultan, I have to think beyond our wishes. Alder is a good match, one that would bring you a stable life, one that would let you have the freedoms I could never give your mother.”

Her gaze fell, and she bit her lip to hold back the words that threatened to spill out. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about Malin, couldn’t bear to reveal the forbidden feelings she held for a boy who had no place in the world of royalty. She felt trapped, like a bird in a gilded cage, her wings clipped before she ever had a chance to soar.

Amir gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Think of it this way, my light. Alder may give you more freedom than you realize. He is gentle, not a man to force you into a rigid life. And if there is… someone else who could bring you happiness in small moments, I wouldn’t be blind to it. I am not heartless.”

She felt her cheeks flush, her thoughts immediately drifting to Malin. Could her father really mean that? Did he understand, even if she hadn’t spoken the words aloud?

Before she could respond, Amir released her hand, his gaze turning serious once more. “Nahra, you have always been a blessing to me, and I only wish for you to find peace and purpose, even within the walls of duty. But you must prepare yourself. This choice isn’t only for you; it’s for the kingdom, for all who look to us for guidance and protection.”

Nahra nodded, her heart heavy with a mix of resignation and reluctant acceptance. She knew what was expected of her, knew that her life was tied to a legacy she could never escape. Yet, as she looked back toward the palace, her thoughts drifted to Malin, and she felt a small, fragile hope flicker in her chest—a hope that perhaps, in some way, she could still hold onto a piece of the life she longed for, even if it was only in secret.

As her father led her back toward the palace, Nahra’s heart weighed heavily with the choice before her, torn between duty and desire, between the life she was born to lead and the life she could only dream of.

But this decision wouldn't last for long…

The next day. The news swept through the capital like wildfire, whispered in hushed voices in the markets, murmured over bread in the bakeries, and spread with astonished gasps through the palace halls. Alder Ames, the gentle young duke of Nonrakey, was dead. Found stabbed in the dark alleys of his own domain, an apparent victim of a reckless attack by thieves who had mistaken him for an ordinary man. The Federation was shaken—such a brutal end for one of its most promising figures was a shock to nobles and commoners alike.

But in the quiet corners of her chambers, Princess Nahra felt the news in a different way. Sitting with Maya by her side, she stared at the report in her hands, her fingers trembling as she read the words once more, barely comprehending the enormity of what it meant. Alder was gone, and with him, the arrangement her father had so carefully crafted. An arrangement that had held the promise of freedom, albeit bound by duty.

Now, she knew who would take his place.

“Aza Ames,” she whispered, her voice carrying a weight of dread and distaste. “Of course, it would be him.”

Maya looked at her with a wry expression, sympathy in her eyes. “It seems the worst has come to pass,” she said, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the edge of Nahra’s bed. “Aza isn’t known for his charm or honour like his brother was. If anything, he’s known for the opposite—a man of many vices and ruthless ambition.”

Nahra closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat as she let out a weary sigh. “Even my father won’t be happy about this change. He’s well aware of Aza’s… reputation. But tradition is tradition, and the Nonrakey region is too powerful to risk offending. My father will have no choice but to hear out Duke Ames.”

Maya shook her head, her voice bitter. “Tradition. What good is tradition if it binds you to a life of misery?”

Nahra’s gaze fell to the floor, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. Aza was the last man she would ever want to marry, a man whose playboy antics and disregard for integrity were well known across the kingdom. He was brash, cocky, and there were rumours of his cruelty to those who crossed him. While Alder had offered a quiet promise of stability and a degree of freedom, Aza would only bring a life of confinement, bound by his ruthless ambition and selfish nature.

Her heart clenched as the reality sank in. This was her future now—a life tied to a man who saw her as little more than an ornament, a means to solidify his power and status. She would be nothing more than a toy for his lustful relief and to further his legacy.

The thought made her sick.

But then, another thought crept in, one she couldn’t ignore. With Alder gone and Aza on his way, this might be her last chance. Her last chance to see Malin.

Maya, watching her friend’s troubled expression, seemed to sense her thoughts. “Nahra,” she began softly, “if there’s something you need to do before Aza arrives, now’s the time. We both know what he’ll demand once he’s here. Once the marriage is arranged, your life will no longer be your own.”

Nahra looked at her, a flicker of determination sparking in her gaze. “I can’t let it end like this, Maya,” she whispered. “I can’t let him be nothing more than a memory.”

Maya nodded, her expression firm. “Then go to him. You have a day before the Nonrakey entourage arrives by boat. No one will question you if you take an early morning walk tomorrow—just be discreet.”

Nahra took a steadying breath, her resolve strengthening. She would see Malin, even if only for a fleeting moment, one last chance to share a piece of her heart that no one else could ever claim. She had to tell him something, anything, even if she couldn’t reveal her true feelings. At the very least, she wanted him to know that he mattered, that he was more than just a friend or a simple baker.

“Thank you, Maya,” she murmured, reaching out to squeeze her friend’s hand.

Maya squeezed back, a small, encouraging smile on her lips. “I’ll keep watch, make sure you’re not missed. Just… be careful, Nahra. And don’t leave any part of yourself behind with him that you aren’t prepared to lose.”

Nahra nodded, her heart pounding as she looked out the window, the sun sinking below the horizon. Tomorrow would come quickly, and with it, her last chance to grasp the life she’d always dreamed of, if only for a fleeting, precious moment.

She knew what she had to do.