She lifted her chin proudly. “And you’ve been honest from the beginning. That’s rare in this court.”

Still, she could not resist a nudge. “But you should propose before she slips away, my dear.”

Orion’s ears reddened instantly, his gaze darting away. “That’s… easier said than done.”

Sterlla laughed, the sound bright in the empty corridor. “Then I’ll just have to give you the push you need.”

He groaned quietly, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed his gratitude.

EPISODE SIX
AN UNEXPECTED EVENT (02)

Sterlla hopped down from Orion’s back, still grinning when an arm hooked around Orion’s shoulders from behind.

“Orion!” Simore’s voice came with a squeeze that nearly pulled him off balance. “So dear sister is the precious friend, and not me? Is that how it is?”

Orion laughed, wriggling in his grip. “Release me, you rogue,” he said, nudging him with an elbow. “And for the record—of course not, dear friend. You’re equally precious… in your own way.”

“In my own way?” Simore arched a brow, pretending offense. “I shall take that as a compliment… though I suspect it is not.”

Before Orion could answer, the sound of light footsteps approached. “What are you two plotting now?” Lionella sang out as she skipped into view, her laughter ringing clear in the corridor. Adena and Linone followed behind, sharing their own private joke, their chuckles joining the others in an easy chorus.

At the far end of the hall, Sigel lingered in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the scene. The sunlight streaming through the high windows fell upon Sterlla, turning the gold jewels of her hair to fire, her laughter as bright as the light itself.

Sigel’s nails bit into her palms. “Why?” she muttered under her breath. “Why does everything fall so neatly into your lap? What is so special about you?”

Her voice caught in her throat, but the bitterness stayed sharp. She turned abruptly, her heels striking the marble with clipped precision as she strode to her chambers.

The door shut behind her with a muted thud. In the stillness, Sigel pressed her back to the wall, drawing in a breath that did nothing to ease the hollow ache in her chest. The warmth she had seen moments ago felt like a world she could never touch.

Year 374 (2 years ago)...
October 19th...
Xiones Castle...

The soft hum from Sterlla’s lips drifted through the chamber like a gentle wind, her voice carrying a tune both sweet and wistful. The maids moved around her with practiced precision, fastening ribbons, smoothing silks, and adjusting the folds of her royal blue floral gown. Her fingers lingered on the fabric, tracing the petals embroidered in gold thread as though savoring the artistry.

On the bed, Adena sat cross-legged, whistling in harmony with the Princess’s melody. The sound twined effortlessly with Sterlla’s humming, filling the air with a light, playful harmony.

Sterlla turned, her eyes bright with mischief. She tapped the side of her head where a maid was fixing her hair. “What do you say, Lady Adena?”

Adena tilted her head, a hint of amusement curling her lips.

“Speak informally, my Princess,” She pressed with a grin.

Sterlla chuckled. “I’d propose the same.”

Adena's eyes softened. “You do have a way with words, don’t you?”

“I’ve been told,” Sterlla replied, feigning modesty, though her smile betrayed the pride beneath.

When the final ribbon was tied and the gown fell in perfect folds, Sterlla rose. The room seemed to still for a moment. Even Adena, so used to her presence, found herself caught in the quiet power of the Princess’s beauty.

“Will it do?” Sterlla asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Adena smirked. “You’ll make the sun jealous.”

Sterlla laughed, the sound light as glass chimes, and stepped into the corridor. Servants and courtiers paused as she passed, drawn to her as if she carried the warmth of summer in her wake. Some offered quiet greetings, others only smiles, but all seemed caught in her orbit.

By the time the carriage rolled through the gates, Simore was already at her side, offering his arm with a flourish. “The gardens are waiting, and so are half the household,” he teased.

“Then let us not keep them waiting,” she replied, slipping her hand into his.

High above, in a room with windows flung wide, Sigel stood watching. The laughter from below reached her faintly, carried on the wind. Her eyes narrowed as she leaned against the sill.

“So everyone smiles for you,” she murmured under her breath, her words swallowed by the distance. “Tell me, Sterlla—what is it they see that I cannot?”

Her fingers curled around the frame, knuckles pale, as the glowing figures in the garden moved further from view.

Sigel worried at her lower lip, the laughter drifting from the gardens below pulling at her like a thread. She wanted—no, needed—to be among them, to share in the warmth that seemed to spill across the courtyard.

“I won’t just stand here,” she murmured to herself, and in a heartbeat, she was out the door.

Her slippers tapped briskly against the marble as she flew down the stairs, skirts gathered in her hands. She skipped two steps at a time, darting through sunlit corridors until the scent of blooming roses reached her. There—Simore stood among the gathering.

“Brother Simore!” she called, slightly breathless.

He turned, startled, and steadied her with a hand to her arm. “Sister Sigel? What has happened?” His eyes searched hers.

“I want to go with Sister Sterlla,” she said in a rush. “To the gardens. With my dear sister.”

Simore blinked, caught between surprise and hesitation. “You do? I mean—”

“Let her,” came a smooth voice from behind.

Simore’s expression softened, a small smile curling at his lips as he glanced over her shoulder.

Sigel turned quickly, dipping into a hurried curtsy. “Prince Orion of the Feifer Kingdom,” she greeted, voice respectful yet bright. “It is an honor to meet you, my Crown Prince.”

Orion stepped forward, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, lifting her from the bow. His eyes held a gentle warmth. “The palace may care for titles and formality, my lady,” he said gently, “but here, in these walls, in the conversations we shall have soon, treat me as a friend. I will do the same for you.”

Her lips curved into a smile, the tightness in her chest easing. “Then… I am glad to call you friend, Prince Orion.”

The carriage rocked gently over the winding road, the late morning sun spilling through the curtained windows. Sigel sat between Orion and Sterlla, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Look there,” Sterlla said brightly, leaning past Sigel to point. “That’s the old bell tower. They say its chimes can be heard as far as the southern gates on a clear day.”

Her voice was honeyed with enthusiasm, her words tumbling one after another. She tapped Sigel’s arm lightly. “And beyond that hill—you’ll see—the Maridelle Gardens. I’ve always loved them in spring.”

Sigel forced a small, demure smile. “It must be lovely,” she murmured, her tone polite, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery.

“Oh, it is,” Sterlla replied, reaching for the wicker basket at her feet. “And I’ve brought the tea cakes from Madame Fovier’s. You’ll love them, dear Sigel—they’re dusted with rose sugar.”

“How thoughtful,” Sigel said, her voice warm enough to pass for sincerity. Inside, her mind whispered like a dagger sliding from its sheath: The day I smile without pretence, Sterlla Xiones, will be the day you fall.

Orion glanced between them, oblivious to the undercurrent. “Lady Sigel, you’ve been quiet. Do you not enjoy such outings?”

“I enjoy the company,” she replied, turning to him with a sweet tilt of her head. Even if that company is poisoned to her.

Sterlla laughed, seemingly unaware. “Then you shall enjoy it more with a slice of cake in hand.”

Sigel accepted the offering, her fingers brushing against Sterlla’s with feigned gentleness. “Perhaps,” she said softly, her gaze lowered so no one could see the flicker of cold satisfaction in her eyes. One step closer, Citra Vengelhoff never forgets.

Therasus west picnic park...
Year 374...(2 years in the past)
October 19th...

The meadow basked in a wash of gold as Sterlla spread a pink checkered sheet across the grass, its bright colors clashing cheerfully with the lush green beneath. She set down a light yellow basket at its center with the air of a queen unveiling treasure.

“Come, you two,” she called, patting the sheet. “You must see what I’ve brought.”

Orion dropped down opposite her, Sigel beside him, her skirts gathered neatly. Sterlla lifted the basket lid with a little flourish. Inside, tea cakes gleamed beneath a dusting of sugar, sandwiches nestled in tidy rows, and donut-shaped sweets glistened under the sun.

“They look splendid,” Orion said with a grin.

“They taste even better,” Sterlla replied, already placing a cake into his hand. “And rose tea, fresh from Madame Fovier’s.”

The sweet trill of Therasus’s famed singing birds floated through the air. Sterlla swayed unconsciously to their melody, her joy almost childlike.

“Try this one, sister Sigel,” she said, passing a plate toward her.

Sigel accepted it with a small smile. “Thank you, elder sister,” she murmured, her voice calm, her eyes unreadable.

They ate, they talked; Sterlla laughed until her cheeks flushed. Then, cradling a porcelain cup, she sipped deeply and closed her eyes. “Heaven,” she sighed, stretching out on the sheet. Within minutes, her breathing slowed, a serene smile resting on her lips.

Orion chuckled softly. “She’s fallen asleep on us.” He brushed a lock of hair from her brow.

Orion then settled Sterlla on his lap gently, and him and Sigel silently sipped on tea as the birds continued their harmonious melody.

Sigel tilted her head toward the sky. “The sun is setting,” she observed.

By the time the horizon blushed with pink and orange, Orion leaned close. “Sterlla,” he said gently, “wake, dear princess. We must head home, my love.”

She didn’t stir. His voice sharpened. “Sterlla.”

Turning to Sigel, he urged, “Pack the things, quickly.”

Sigel obeyed, tucking leftover cakes and empty cups into the basket, her eyes flicking toward them. Orion shook Sterlla’s shoulder lightly—then harder.

“Dear older sister,” Sigel tried, kneeling beside her, “wake up. The hour grows late.”

Still nothing.

Orion’s hand brushed Sterlla’s lips—and froze. A dark stain spread against her pale skin. His eyes widened. “No…” He shook her again, voice cracking. White foam gathered at the corner of her mouth.

“Sigel,” he said, almost stumbling over the words, “call… call a physician. NOW!”

The birds’ song had stilled, and the meadow seemed to hold its breath now.