*Nicoli*
Nicoli stood perfectly still on the rim of the stone fountain, the balls of his feet balanced against the slick edge. His toes curled inside his boots, gripping for stability—not just physical, but something deeper. Something to anchor him when everything else felt weightless. His arms hung at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching, knuckles whitening then flushing pink again. The nervous energy coiled in his stomach like a serpent, tightening with each breath. It made him want to scream, to run, to throw himself into a fight—anything to release the pressure building inside his chest.
Anything to feel something other than this helplessness.
He watched his father's broad frame vanish into the shadowed mouth of the castle, Johan trailing beside him with the patience of stone. The words they'd exchanged were lost to the wind, but the set of his father's shoulders told Nicoli everything—rigid, storm-heavy, burdened with something Nicoli couldn't share. He was off to handle some matter that was not for the faint of heart. Nicoli would likely not see him for the rest of the day.
Again.
That look in his father's eyes before he'd turned away—what did it mean? What was happening behind those closed doors, in those hushed conversations that fell silent whenever Nicoli entered a room? The questions burned in his throat, acid and raw, but he swallowed them down.
If only he could ask. If only—
Nicoli's brow furrowed, jaw clenched so tight he could feel a dull ache spreading to his temples. He didn't know what his father was so grim about—but he wouldn't ask. Not anymore. Asking meant needing to talk to him, like nothing had changed. But it had. Things were different between all of them. Not just his mother and father.
And now Nicoli could feel the strain of losing the man he used to confide in like a physical wound—a hollowness carved beneath his ribs that ached with each breath. Because Nicoli was in the dark. Not just about what was happening between his parents. But about her.
Ana…
His boot scuffed a pale swirl of frost clinging to the fountain ledge, sending it drifting into the shallow basin below. The water had thawed recently, barely, and carried the bite of snowmelt that stung his nostrils—sharp, clean, unforgiving. The pool was scattered with broken twigs, wind-curled leaves, and a single red feather, soaked and sinking. The servants had yet to clean it. But before the end of the week, like clockwork, it would likely be. Nicoli had no doubt.
At least something like that could be reliable. He dragged his fingertips against the coarse wool of his pants, focusing on the scrape against his skin, the warmth of friction. The sensation let him forget himself for just a moment as his eyes drifted back to the feather in the basin. The red reminded him of her—of the funny scarf she'd cling to that covered her pretty hair, of the wax seal of Nocthen pressed into her letters, of the flush in her cheeks when she laughed too hard.
"Your parents are fighting?"
Nicoli's head snapped over his shoulder, muscles jerking as he turned too quickly. His boot slid on the wet stone, and for one terrifying moment, he felt himself losing balance—teetering on the edge of falling—before righting himself. His heart hammered against his ribs. He had forgotten she was even there. Funny, considering how anyone could misplace a giant.
Hidi stood with her arms folded, leaning against the hedge arch like she'd been there a while. Her golden braid was slung over one shoulder, catching sunlight like polished metal, and the breeze teased the edges of her pale blue cloak, the embroidered hem flickering like flame. She looked too casual, too composed—a stark contrast to the chaos churning inside him. Peridot-colored eyes observed the castle with a light smile dancing on her lips. The sun caught her face as if she'd seen something interesting again.
Judging by the smile, Nicoli had a vague guess why. She'd seen it too. His father's abrupt departure had left his mother behind, standing alone in the courtyard with her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had blanched. Hidi's stature made for a good lookout without needing the assistance of the water fountain like he did. The perks of being a giant, he supposed.
His shock fading, Nicoli dropped from the fountain ledge. His boots hit the flagstone with a wet slap, and cold water from the basin soaked through his soles, sending a chill up his spine. He didn't flinch. The cold was almost welcome—something real to feel.
"They're not—" he started, the natural need to defend rising out of protectiveness, but then stopped. The words died in his throat, crushed under the weight of truth. Hidi saw it herself. So what was the point of lying?
No, he had enough practice keeping up with smiling for his mother as if nothing were wrong. His throat tightened, dry and sharp like something caught mid-swallow. "They're just... It's complicated."
Hidi raised a blonde brow, the arch perfect and knowing. "Complicated?" She shifted to sway her hoop skirt to face him, the movement sending a shower of baby leaves scattering across the flagstones. Her eyes practically glowed with intrigue, a hunger for details that made Nicoli's skin prickle with discomfort.
Details Nicoli wasn't going to give. No, Hidi wasn't the one he wanted to talk to about this. He wanted to talk to—
"You're nosy, you know that?" Nicoli huffed, a breath short of a laugh, but nothing reached his eyes. They remained dark, shadowed, like the water in the fountain. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Damp with cold sweat. He hadn't realized how cold the air still was. Spring, but barely. The chill seemed to have seeped into his bones, into the marrow of him.
"Is it about Ana?"
Nicoli felt the wind knocked out of him. The name struck like a physical blow, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. How did she guess it? He looked back to find her closer, letting the sunlight catch the small silver rings at her wrist. They glinted like fish scales, flashing signals he couldn't read. She was watching him with a strange yet knowing expression, as if she knew more than he did. Things that made his stomach tighten all over again as if he was back to that night with his mother and the letters burning in the fire.
The smell of smoke almost hit his nose at the thought, acrid and bitter, carrying memories of watching Julia's hands tremble as she fed the parchment to the flames. Watching words curl and blacken and disappear.
No. Ana wasn't in the wrong. He would never blame her.
"She didn't do anything." But even as he said those words, a part of him knew it was a half-truth. True but it didn't mean he accepted it. His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears, an echo in an empty room.
Nicoli turned his back to her and stared down into the fountain's dark water. The reflection of the sky rippled between brown leaves and scattered petals, a broken mirror. He didn't want to see her expression, not now, not when he felt like a rope stretched too tight, fraying at the edges.
But as for his father and this dreadful silence—he hated it. Hated not knowing. Hated how the people who raised him suddenly felt like strangers in different rooms, speaking different languages.
"Hidi, can I ask you for a favor?" The words came out softer than he intended, almost pleading. He could hear the desperation in his own voice and hated himself for it.
"A favor?" Hidi's voice lifted with interest at that, a musical note of surprise. "Me?" She seemed to grow an inch taller as she stood with her shoulders back, proudly. "I would be more than honored to help my dearest Nicoli."
Dearest? Nicoli felt the slight flinch at the endearment, the word landing uncomfortably on his skin. But he pushed it aside. Hidi was always strange. Saying funny things that made him feel like he was missing some private joke. And he didn't have time for it. He had a purpose, a need that clawed at him from the inside.
Nicoli nodded, swallowing hard. "Can you write to Ana for me?"
Hidi's smile shrank a sliver at the idea, the corners of her mouth tightening almost imperceptibly. "You...want me to write to her?" She seemed to slightly chew on the inside of her mouth as if needing to taste the next words she chose. "Why?"
"Because I can't." The admission burned like acid. "Mom said not to bother her until she wasn't busy." It was such a stupid stipulation, and it frustrated him to no end that it meant he could only write when Ana wrote. And Ana—
Ana had gone silent. Again.
"I just want to talk to her." Nicoli began, his voice steady but resolute. "Because she's... calm. Logical." He pulled his hands into his sleeves, not to hide trembling but to keep them warm in the lingering chill. "She doesn't make everything about feelings. She listens."
Ana would know what to make of all this. She always did.
That's what he needed now—someone to make sense of the growing disarray around him.
Nicoli wasn't going to tell her about what was happening at home. But he did want just to talk. Take his mind off of things. Talk with her. Like they used to when they were little. When the world made sense and people said what they meant.
Nicoli tipped a small stone into the water to watch it ripple, concentric circles spreading outward like the secrets in his household.
"I know she's busy with her duties and stuff, but it's been a while since the last letter. And to just hear from her, even when it's a short message—it helps. To know she's there." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I just miss having that connection right now."
He didn't want to appear childish or needy, but Ana's steady presence—even through letters—was like being his north star. Something unchanging when everything else shifted.
"I'd appreciate your help with this, Hidi."
Hidi stepped away from the fountain's edge and sat down on the stone lip, tugging her cloak closer around her shoulders. Her giant form nearly swallowed the entirety of the fixture, making it look like a child's toy beneath her.
Hidi sat still for a long moment, legs swinging lightly as if weighing the gravity of his request against her own whims. The soft swish of her skirts against stone filled the silence. Her eyes, when they found his, held something he couldn't quite decipher—calculation, perhaps, or genuine concern. Maybe both.
"You really miss her, huh?" she said, glancing sideways. Her tone was gentle, but her eyes sparkled with something unreadable. "It's sweet—this sibling devotion you both have. You both care for each other so much." She paused, tilting her head. "Or weird. I haven't decided."
"Weird?" Nicoli had to scoff in surprise now, the sound catching in his throat as he watched the giant shrug, a rolling motion that reminded him of mountains shifting.
"I never liked any of my brothers or sisters like you two like each other." She moved to tuck her braid in front of her to play with the weave, fingers dancing through the golden strands. "Ja, I don't understand it at all."
Nicoli rolled his eyes now, hearing Hidi's thoughts already drifting. "Hidi, I'm being serious. Please." He hated the edge of desperation in his voice, but couldn't keep it out. Every day without word from Ana felt like another stone added to the weight already pressing on his chest.
Hidi watched him a beat longer, her gaze suddenly sharp, appraising. Then she looked away, tracing a wet crack in the stone with one fingernail. The scrape of it against the rough surface sent a shiver down Nicoli's spine.
"I'll think about it," Hidi said airily, tossing a pebble into the water. It hit with a plop, disrupting the surface. She watched the ripples with exaggerated interest, her lips pursed in mock contemplation.
Nicoli's mouth fell open. What kind of answer was that? "What? Think about it?" He threw his hands up. "It's just writing a letter!"
"Oh, but it's such a big decision." Hidi placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "Should I help my dear friend communicate with his beloved sister? Who is also my dear and cherished friend, but still–" She tilted her head back, addressing the clouds. "What if I do this tremendous favor... and get nothing in return?"
Nicoli rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. "Are you serious right now?"
"Deadly serious." But the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "If I write to her, she will write back to you—and then what about me?" She flung an arm across her forehead in a theatrical swoon that nearly knocked her off-balance on the fountain edge. "Poor, forgotten Hidi, cast aside like yesterday's porridge." She laughed, but it was a beat too loud. Her eyes didn't quite match the smile.
"You are ridiculous," Nicoli said, but he found himself fighting a reluctant smile. Trust Hidi to turn his moment of vulnerability into something absurd.
"Am I?" She leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Every time she sends a letter, you vanish like morning mist. You smile more—which is lovely, by the way—but it's always 'Ana said this, Ana said that.'" She mimicked his voice with uncanny accuracy. "'Ana thinks the stars are made of diamond dust,' 'Ana believes frogs can predict the weather.'"
"I never said either of those things!"
"Might as well have." Hidi twirled a strand of golden hair around her finger. "The rest of us mere mortals just can't compete with the great and wise Ana. Ana with her books and her silly ideas of peace and treaties. Even with the Bulgeons…" She trailed off with a shrug. "You will push me aside."
Nicoli felt his cheeks flush with heat, embarrassment replacing his earlier desperation. "That's not—I don't—" He crossed his arms, suddenly defensive. "I don't ignore you."
"Just sometimes forget I exist?" Hidi suggested helpfully, but her smile had softened at the edges.
That softened her expression. Slightly. The hard lines around her mouth eased, and something like understanding flickered in her eyes.
"You have me," she said. Quietly this time, but it lingered in the air between them, heavy with meaning. "But I'm not as good as Ana, is it?"
His mouth opened—then shut again. Nicoli looked at her, startled. That was… blunt. Too blunt.
And it hurt. Hearing it put so plainly. He didn't know how to answer that. He wasn't even sure it was false. And yet…
Hidi was odd, yes, vexing, of course, unnecessarily competitive, absolutely. But the more time they spent together, Nicoli had to admit it was nice to have her around. In a strange sort of older brother sort of way.
And Hidi understands. Something pulled on his heart, a recognition that surprised him. Hidi was in his corner when it came to Ana. Somehow, that helped to have someone else. It helped ease all the waiting.
Hidi smiled thinly, then nudged him with her knee. The gentle impact nearly knocked him sideways. "I'm teasing, Nicoli. Mostly." She looked out past the hedges, where the blue sky bled into the upper windows of the palace. "Of course I'll write. I am the helpful, doting companion, after all."
He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding, shoulders slumping in relief. The tension drained from him so suddenly he felt light-headed.
"Thank you." The words came out as barely more than a whisper, raw with gratitude.
"But," she added, holding up a finger, eyes glinting with mischief, "you owe me. I want something in return."
He blinked, wariness returning. "What kind of something?"
"Oh, I haven't decided yet. Maybe a song. Or maybe you let me crush you at every single game of chess for the next week." She gave a wink, mock-serious. "I'll write to our beloved Ana—but only if you promise to stop brooding and let yourself smile once in a while. For me, not just for her. And I mean, the real one. Not the one you've been putting on lately. The fake one."
Fake? Nicoli felt something shift in his throat, a recognition that left him exposed. He turned his head, finally giving her a proper look. Hidi was still half-smiling, eyes playful, but she wasn't joking entirely. Not this time.
She had noticed.
A breath caught in his chest, not quite a sigh. He hadn't thought anyone had. It tugged at something deep, something he hadn't known was waiting.
Nicoli managed a soft laugh, the sound rusty from disuse. "You're impossible."
"Not Impossible. Just a Queen, who does as she likes for who she likes," she chirped, rising to her feet. Her boots scuffed the stone, and a loose twig cracked sharply underfoot as she adjusted her cloak, looking more than a little pleased with herself. "I'll send it tonight."
Nicoli gave a small nod. He didn't say anything more, just watched the way the thawed water stilled again, shivering faintly in the early spring breeze.
For all her dramatics, Hidi would do it. He could tell. And that, somehow, was enough to loosen something in his chest. The knot of anxiety that had been growing tighter with each passing day without Ana's words eased, just slightly. Not gone, but bearable.
Nicoli turned back toward the fountain. The thawed water had gone still again, catching the clouds above. Only the feather remained, half-sunk now in the shallow bowl. Red. Bright. A flash of something alive against all the gray.
This wouldn't fix things. Not even ease it fully.
But it gave him a sliver of ground beneath his feet.
A bridge. However thin. A way to reach Ana.
To hear her voice again—even if only in ink.
"Come on," Hidi said, smiling to herself as she turned from the fountain and started back toward the path. Her long strides carried her with ease, her tone light but with an undercurrent of satisfaction. "Let's head back now."
"Where to?"
Nicoli found himself trailing behind her, not quite confused, but aware of the shift. He was usually the one in the lead. But now, he was the one to follow. The realization settled uncomfortably, but not unpleasantly.
"Where else, to another round of chess, of course?" Hidi volunteered, holding up her fingers. "We are still tied, I think." She then spread her lips into a great smile. Showing all her blunt white teeth like a cat's smile—predatory, pleased, possessive.
"But not for long."
Nicoli rolled his eyes, lips tugging in a reluctant smile. Of course, she'd want to start. This was Hidi, after all.
Still, he didn't argue. The wind tugged at his sleeves, carried the scent of damp soil and budding leaves—the promise of change. He glanced once more at the fountain, at the red feather caught near the base. The light hit it just right, making it shine like a drop of blood against stone.
A sense of certainty settled over him. Hidi would write the letter tonight. Ana would receive it within days. She'd write back immediately—she always did. Whatever was keeping her busy, she'd make time for him. They were Ana and Nicoli, after all. Always there for each other, no matter what.
By this time next week, he'd have a letter in hand. Her neat, precise handwriting would fill the page with observations about court life, gentle inquiries about his studies, and those coded jokes only the two of them understood.
Everything would be back to normal soon.
As he followed Hidi back toward the castle, Nicoli felt more centered than he had in weeks. The ground beneath his feet seemed more solid, the air clearer. One letter. That's all it would take to resolve all his worries.
He had no reason to think otherwise.