"...I am Zen Edward. The Little Princess of Royal Ford."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackle of burning torches carried by the soldiers and the distant hoot of a night owl.
Ezekiel's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a slow, calculated smirk spread across his face. He lowered his weapon and sheathed his sword with a clean, metallic click.
"So, you are Zen Edward," Ezekiel said, his voice dripping with smooth amusement. He folded his arms, looking her up and down with a new sense of predatory interest. "King Arthur's youngest daughter. Tell me, Zen, are you aware that if any enemy of your kingdom found you wandering alone in these woods, they could easily kidnap you? It would be the perfect opportunity for them to extract a massive ransom or take revenge on your father."
Zen didn't flinch. She stood tall, her hand still resting casually on the hilt of her sword.
"In the entire South, there is not a single kingdom that counts Royal Ford as an enemy," Zen shot back, her voice laced with ice. "Right now, I only see one enemy standing before me. And that is you."
Ezekiel raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "An enemy? We are here to bring peace, Princess."
"Peace?" Zen let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Your kingdom sent a marriage proposal for my older sisters as a 'negotiation' to stop attacking the South. But let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Prince Ezekiel: I don't trust this negotiation—not for a single, solitary second. It reeks of a trap."
The silence of the ancient forest was suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic crackle of the soldiers' torches and the heavy, tense breathing of the two royals.
Ezekiel's amusement faded, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over her. "Perhaps you are blissfully unaware of the laws of the North, Little Princess," Ezekiel began, his voice dropping to a low, chilling register. "But to insult anyone of the royal bloodline of the Supreme Kingdom is a high crime. And I am not just anyone—I am the Prince. Had you been a mere commoner, a peasant girl lost in the dark, I might have indulged your insolence and let you walk away. But now that I know you carry the royal blood of Royal Ford? I cannot simply let such a golden opportunity slip through my fingers."
Zen's expression hardened. The polite facade she had forced herself to maintain shattered completely, leaving behind nothing but pure, unadulterated steel. She stood her ground, looking dead into the eyes of the man who held the power to destroy her kingdom.
"Enough, Ezekiel," Zen said, her voice eerily calm yet echoing with authority through the trees. "You are wasting your time, and more importantly, you are wasting mine. If your intention is to spill my blood on this dirt, then draw your blade and fight me right now. Stop hiding behind your hollow threats."
She paused, gesturing to the hundreds of elite soldiers surrounding them like a wall of steel.
"If you lack the courage to face me yourself, then order your grand army to cut me down," Zen challenged, her lip curling with disdain. "But if your twisted mind is plotting to take me as a prisoner, let me shatter that delusion right now. No cage can hold me, and I am leaving. If and when you finally grow the spine to decide what you want to do with me, come find me. I am always ready to fight."
Without waiting for his response, and without giving him the satisfaction of seeing her fear, Zen turned her back on the Prince of the Supreme Kingdom. She walked calmly to her horse, mounted Roar with practiced grace, and urged the beast forward.
Ezekiel stood frozen in the middle of the road. He did not issue a command to attack. He did not draw his sword. He simply stood there in the chilling night air, watching the silhouette of the defiant southern princess fade into the thick, dark embrace of the forest until she was completely swallowed by the shadows.
Only when she was long gone did the Prince finally move. He turned on his heel, his expression unreadable, and stepped back into his grand carriage.
"Drive on, Jaff," Ezekiel commanded quietly, leaning back against the velvet cushions. "Take us to the Royal Pavilion Camps."