ARTIZEA
THE KNOCK WAS SOFT.
Artizea did not answer at first. It could be Eric or, worse, her father. Neither did she wish to see right now. She sat curled on the edge of her lounge, her chest rose and fell in a controlled rhythm. "Go. away." She said firmly.
The door creaked open anyway.
Her mother stepped inside, quiet and graceful but still regal. In her hands, a delicate porcelain cup. Her Mother did not sit, but lingered by the window instead, her back straight, hands clasped before her. "Your father and I…" she began quietly. "We do want you to be happy." She turned her head slightly, "But you must understand that actions have consequences." Her mother's gaze met hers. "On all of us," she added firmly.
Artizea looked down at the ground. Her lips parted, but no words came; she glanced up to her mother, who stretched out her hand to her.
"Chamomile," she offered, "It helps with the nerves."
Artizea blinked but did not question it. She took the cup, fingers brushing her mother's. It was warm, comforting, even—but something about it… Something about the silence that followed…
Artizea's fingers curled tighter around the cup.
Then, with a quiet nod, she left, and the door clicked shut behind her. For a moment, she sat motionless, the cup untouched in her hands. Her thumb brushed the rim of the cup. The warmth had started to recede. She observed it closer, watching the gentle ripple of gold against porcelain. Chamomile. But her mother had not looked her in the eye when she said it. In that moment, Artizea knew this was not just tea. It was an option. A quiet choice. In case… of anything. And that choice had been placed in her hands. She slowly placed the cup gently on the table beside her, hoping to sleep on it.
Yet Hours later, Sleep did not find her. Her mind raced with images of her and Eric within the past years…it was not fair,her father's fury, the sacrifices, the heaviness in her chest.
"End it or I will."
It was that moment, she had reached her decision, No. She was many things, reckless and stubborn among them, but she was also not someone who gave up easily. She began walking through the dimly lit corridors. She would confront her father, Eric, and if he refused, she would renounce her Title. It was as simple as that. Her anger slowly gave way to something else: guilt. She knew there would be a possibility of backfire.
On everyone…
Arthur was telling the truth. He had not betrayed her. He never would. And yet, she had lashed out at him because it was easier than facing the reality of her own choices, just like he said. The weight of her father's pending disappointment and her broken family's ties combined pressed heavily on her shoulders. Still, her steps did not slow. She had to find Eric. If her father thought he could control every aspect of her life, he had another thing coming. Straightening, she wiped at her eyes and continued down the hall while walking through the inner gardens. Her breath hitched in relief at the sight of a knight whom she instantly recognized.
Eric was standing in a secluded corner, his back turned toward her, but it was not his presence alone that caught her attention. She moved closer in disbelief. The voices became clearer. It was the woman at his side. He was laughing and had a look in a way that she had never seen before, in a way he had never looked at her before. Her breath caught when she recognized the woman when they finally broke apart. Madeline giggled while he murmured something in her ear. Whatever it was, it made her blush and glance away coyly. It took only a moment for the full weight of what she was witnessing to sink in.
His eyes met hers across the courtyard. His expression faltered upon registering her presence. But it was too late. Her gaze was cold, her heart shattering with each passing moment. Madeline, noticing her, stepped back and lowered her head in shame. Artizea had considered her more than just a servant—she had trusted her as a confidante, someone who would never hurt her.
"You," Artizea's voice was sharp, laced with a raw fury she had never directed at him before. "How could you?"
Eric froze as if he had been factory-rested. "Tizea?" Eric started, his tone laced with panic, "This is not what it looks like."
For a moment, Artizea stilled in suffocating Silence. Eric. The man she had allowed herself to fall for…She narrowed her eyes. "First, you take me for a fool, now a blind one?" Eric opened his mouth, but she raised her hand, silencing him."You have both betrayed me in ways I could never foresee," she continued, her words sharp like daggers. "And I will not have such treachery in my life or my halls." She straightened, drawing on every ounce of regal poise she had left. She then turned to Madeline, whose face was flushed with shame. "You—" Her voice faltered for a moment, but then she hardened it again, her decision made. "Will leave. You will go somewhere, anywhere but here."
Madeline's eyes widened, and she trembled slightly, her hands wringing together as if she were about to speak. But Artizea did not give her the chance.
"One hour." She commanded, her tone final and unwavering.
Madeline's face fell, but she nodded silently and turned away, retreating toward the castle's servant quarters to gather her belongings.
Artizea's gaze then moved to Eric. His expression had gone pale, as if he did not understand what had just transpired. He reached out as if to touch her arm, but she stepped back, her glare freezing him in place. "Artizea, please, I can explain."
"We were to be married…" she said coldly, "I trusted you, I defended you… to my father. My brother, I risked everythingfor you. And this—" she shuddered "This is how you betray our vows before they were even said?" she said, her voice quiet but laced with pain.
"I thought she was you! At least—I thought she was…" He tried to approach her, but she raised her hand once more, the movement enough to stop him in his tracks. He looked stunned, his brow furrowing as if he could not comprehend the gravity of the situation.
"You are dismissed from your post as my royal knightguard, effective immediately."
Eric stood frozen for a moment, his expression pained, but when he saw that there was no softness left in her eyes, he nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "I cannot live without you."
"Then do not."
The words struck to his core, and he stood there for a moment, letting her words digest. He turned and walked away. She watched him disappear, knowing the decision she had made was necessary. Next thing she knew, she stood frozen in the hallway, her hand still on the door frame, the image seared into her mind; Eric, her knight, her sanctuary, entwined with her maid, her friend—
"You are the Crown Princess."
"You are not some common girl who can follow her whims."
When Artizea reached her chambers, her steps faltered when her gaze fell upon the tea. She reached for it and held it in her shaking hand.
Her choice.
The throne, the crown, and the kingdom had always come first—and she had been ready to put herself first…but now, she realized that the hardest thing to face was the truth about herself: she had allowed someone to get too close to stray from her purpose. She swallowed it, every last drop. Her gaze shifted to the bed where the memories flooded: whispered promises entangled with the heat of his presence beside her. It all seemed to mock her now. "—a lie that should have never existed in the first place. What were you thinking, Artizea?" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She had held it together in the throne room, even when her father's harsh words had laid bare the truth. "A good man…" she thought back. Her father had been right. Her breath quickened as the room seemed to shrink around her. The energy she had suppressed for far too long now clawed its way to the surface.
"I wish for you to stay."
Artizea's hand flew to the pendant around her neck, gripping it tightly. It had been a source of comfort; now, it felt like a weight. "Stay," With a sharp motion, she yanked the necklace from her neck, the chain snapping under the force. The pendant clattered to the ground, while a faint, burning sensation that felt like a wound.
"If you continue down this path, you will bring ruin to yourself and this kingdom."
And yet, she had clung to her defiance, believing in Eric. Believing in something more. The air in the room grew thick, charged with an unnatural energy. Her temper, usually well-controlled, had finally reached its breaking point, and the echoes of ringing in her ears. With a guttural scream, her energy erupted. A burst of raw energy exploded from her, sending the furniture crashing against the walls and shattering the nearby mirror into a thousand shards. The door burst open, and maids flooded in, their eyes wide with panic. They froze, staring at the chaos around them and the Crown Princess standing at its center, her chest heaving.
"Your Highness," one of them stammered, "Do you need assistance?"
Artizea raised her hand to her neck, where the phantom weight of the pendant still seemed to hang. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Finally, she turned to them, her expression cold and unreadable, though her chest still heaved with the aftermath of her outburst.
"Clean this up," she said coldly, then she softly added, "Please."
The maids exchanged nervous glances but quickly set to work, their footsteps careful as though fearing another eruption.
Artizea looked down at the broken necklace and then crushed it beneath her foot, not caring about the sharpness. At that moment, she vowed she would never let herself be so vulnerable again.