Archive of Our Own ^beta

he was dreaming again.

the same one, always the same.

not the worst one, but the one that always started soft.

there were sunbeams slanting through a cracked wall, dust dancing in the golden light. a boy sat cross-legged on the floor, sleeves rolled to his elbows, carefully cleaning a scrape on caleb’s arm. his touch was steady, even when caleb hissed. his voice, even steadier.

“stop squirming. you’ll make it worse.”

he always said that.

gentle hands. gentle voice. always careful, always kind. hands that didn’t shake, that didn’t hesitate. hands that mended instead of destroyed. even when caleb barked at him. even when he glared and growled like a stray dog ready to bite.

even then—he stayed.

behind them, yuu coughed quietly in the corner, half-buried in worn blankets. zayne looked at her with a gentleness caleb couldn’t put words to. something calm. kind. not pity—zayne never gave them that. just warmth. just care.

his hazel green eyes gleamed when they caught the sun. not gold. not brown. glass. pale, almost too delicate to belong in the slums they shared for a handful of fleeting days.

he remembered pinky promises whispered beneath tattered awnings, their shadows long on the pavement. books shared in secret. the way yuu giggled when the boy read aloud, stumbling on the big words but trying anyway.

a boy who never flinched when his boots sank into mud, who never hesitated to climb crumbling rooftops, even if it meant scuffing leather meant for nobles. sweet crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

"caleb."

that name, said like a secret. or a promise.

he remembered it all. and he hated that it still made his chest ache.

“you’ll protect her, and i’ll protect you.”

“...what about you?”

“i don’t need protecting.”

caleb had scoffed. “yeah? then i’ll make sure no one lays a hand on you.”

the boy had blinked. then smiled like he’d finally found something precious.

“you’ll be my knight, then.”

“that’s stupid,” caleb muttered, ears turning red.

“then we’re both stupid.” the boy held out his pinky. “swear it.”

and caleb — the filthy stray with scraped knees and more scars than years — curled his pinky around his like it was the only vow in the world that ever mattered.

and then—

the sun would shift. the warmth would drain.

the scene blurred like ink in rainwater, running at the edges. and caleb would blink, and zayne would be on the floor.

still.

blood pooling beneath white sleeves. eyes wide open, glassy in the wrong way.

“no—no—wait, i was supposed to protect you—”

caleb’s body wouldn’t move. his legs were heavy. his voice cracked in his throat like something already broken.

he had failed. he was too late.

again.

again.

again.

and he always woke before zayne blinked.

the ceiling greeted him, bare and familiar. wood beams. faint cracks in the plaster.

his chest rose and fell too fast. a bead of sweat ran down his temple. the room was dim—still blanketed in blue-grey dawn—but the dream’s echoes stuck to his ribs like cold fog. one hand instinctively reaching toward the sheath by his bedside. but there was no danger. only silence. the kind that followed bad dreams and cold mornings.

caleb sat up, exhaling slow. ran a hand through his hair.

he didn’t need to check the window to know what time it was. his body knew. the quiet hum of the world before sunrise. the birds still silent. the wind still shy.

outside the window, the branch of the tree just beyond his quarters tapped lightly against the frame. it always did when the breeze came in from the south.

but this time, tiny buds dotted the bark.

just shy of blooming.

caleb watched them for a long while. watched the way they trembled like they weren’t sure if it was safe yet. like they, too, were waiting for the right moment to open.

spring again, he thought.

it always came too fast. it always brought things back.

the festival always came around this time. where lanterns floated up like stars. the streets lined with banners, the scent of sweet buns and grilled skewers. the children playing, the lovers holding hands.

and zayne—crowned and graceful, will be walking through the crowds with a practiced smile again. he had grown so used to the weight on his shoulders, sometimes caleb wondered if he even felt it anymore.

or maybe he just carried it better than most.

caleb leaned his head back, eyes tracing the faint bloom outside the glass.

a new season. a new start.

but the same dream.

the same ache.

the same vow he made with blood and breath.

he exhaled, slowly. not quite relief. not quite peace.

caleb rose to his feet, got ready without thinking. muscle memory. wash basin, towel, uniform. still quiet. still composed. the only thing betraying the remnants of the dream was the way he paused, knuckles brushing the window frame—eyes still on the half-bloomed petals outside.

"still not strong enough," he murmured.

not if he kept dreaming of a dead prince.

not if even in sleep, he feared being too late.

buckles fastened, gloves pulled snug, boots tight. everything in place, sharp and spotless—black and silver with the royal crest stitched just above the heart. the subtle sigil of his station, embroidered in silver thread. the prince’s guard. pristine even after years in the field. maybe that was the problem. he was always too put-together. people forgot there was still a mutt under the metal.

he clipped his scabbard into place with a soft clink. gloved hands brushed against his chestplate once to smooth it, then again for habit. he glanced once in the mirror, expression unreadable. the dream still lingered like smoke, but he locked it away behind his eyes.

everything was where it needed to be.

once he was ready, he stepped into the corridor, boots silent against marble.

outside, the courtyard was already in motion—servants scurrying like startled doves, hauling silks and crates of porcelain under barked orders. one of the kitchen aides nearly tripped over a basket of spring flowers. the guards were doubling up, posting along walls, archways, entry points.

some of the younger aides chattered as they passed, giddy with news. he caught snippets of it.

“the chandeliers will be real crystal this time—”

“—her dress was imported from philos!”

“i heard his highness might perform again—”

caleb kept walking.

preparations for the spring ball had begun.

a week left.

caleb had never seen it—not really. he was usually somewhere on the farthest edge of the kingdom, cutting down bandits, intercepting messengers, and dragging noble brats out of trouble before they triggered political chaos.

yuu always filled him in after. her voice full of wonder as she retold the way the chandeliers shimmered, how the orchestra played something so delicate it felt like a spell, and how zayne looked—

“—like he stepped out of a fairy tale, caleb, i’m not even exaggerating. all white and gold and this deep blue—and he wore the brooch you gave him, can you believe it? you weren’t even there to see it, idiot—!”

he ignored that part.

mostly.

the halls were quiet where he was headed. the eastern wing of the palace always was. most people had learned to steer clear unless absolutely necessary.

he reached the heavy oak door of sieghart’s office, the one with the slanted window and the dented armor stand out front. the old knight had been camped out in that same room since caleb was barely tall enough to hold a sword.

he didn’t bother knocking loudly—just a firm, precise tap tap tap for formality’s sake, and then he stepped inside.

the smell of old parchment and sandalwood hit him first, followed by the unmistakable sound of light snoring. and there he was. former gladiator, now head of the royal guard, currently dead asleep.

chair tipped dangerously back, long legs stretched across the desk, boots leaving dirt scuffs on parchment reports, arms crossed, and a book was sprawled open across his face—something thick and unreadable. a tankard, half-empty, rested on the desk’s corner like a loyal dog.

caleb clicked his tongue, crossed the room, ignoring the array of empty mugs, unfiled scrolls, and an ink bottle dangerously close to spilling. he reached the tall window on the far wall and, without warning, yanked it wide open.

a sharp push, and sunlight flooded in, bright and unforgiving. the wind followed—brisk, cold, spring-scented.

sieghart groaned dramatically, flinching like a vampire facing divine wrath. the book slid off his face, landing with a dull thump.

“what the hell, kid…?”

caleb didn’t miss a beat. “rise and shine. i believe you told me to report before sunrise.”

“do i look like a man who needs sunlight to function?”

“you look like a corpse they forgot to bury.”

“i was meditating,” sieghart muttered.

“sure you were, old man.”

sieghart snapped his gaze to him, narrowing one eye. “careful now. i still remember how to break a femur.”

“please. you’d have to get out of the chair first.”

“gods, you’re more punctual than my hangovers.” sieghart rubbed his face with one hand, the other reaching lazily for the wine bottle. “and here i was hoping you’d finally be late for once. let a man dream.”

caleb smirked faintly. “you’d sleep through a siege if no one opened the blinds.”

“wrong,” sieghart yawned, sitting upright. “i’d sleep better through a siege. nothing knocks you out like adrenaline and chaos. medicine.”

caleb didn’t comment. just clasped his hands behind his back and waited, perfectly composed.

sieghart squinted at him.

“still a smug bastard, huh?”

“no more than you taught me to be.”

that earned a snort. the older man swung his legs down with a groan, bones cracking audibly as he stretched. he looked young, deceptively so, but caleb knew better. the way he moved, the way he fought—it all spoke of experience earned in blood. still, the years hadn’t dulled the arrogance.

sieghart scratched his head. “so. prince is due to start public appearances again this week. big ol’ fancy spring dance, right? you got your hands full.”

“i can handle it.”

“didn’t say you couldn’t. but you’ve been out in the field too long. you remember how to stand around and look pretty?”

caleb didn’t blink. “no. but i recall how to slit a throat without wrinkling a coat.”

“charming.” sieghart grinned. “you always did have a poetic soul.”

he began rummaging through a drawer—papers, sealed letters, old maps, and what looked suspiciously like a deck of cheating cards—before tossing a scroll across the desk.

caleb caught it neatly.

“details for the ball,” sieghart said. “palace perimeter review, guard rotation audit, escort shifts. oh, and you’re to check in with the tailors later. they’re working on something for the ball. prince’s orders.”

caleb stilled. “i don’t need—”

sieghart gave him a look that was part tired, part knowing, and entirely smug. “it’s not a request. even you don’t argue with direct orders from the crown, do you?”

he let the silence stretch long enough to taste the air.

“...fine.”

“that’s the spirit.” sieghart smirked, satisfied. “now go get breakfast. you're free for the rest of the day—unless something explodes. then you're mine again.”

caleb rolled his eyes but nodded once. he turned to leave, scroll tucked under his arm.

just before he reached the door, sieghart called out behind him—voice less teasing this time.

“hey.”

caleb paused. looked back.

“you’ve been dreaming again, haven’t you?”

a beat.

caleb didn’t answer.

sieghart didn’t need him to.

he waved him off. “if you see him, tell the prince i said to get some damn sleep too. both of you look like hell.”

caleb gave a slight nod.

and then he was gone—off into the waking world, where spring loomed like a promise and a warning.

~~~

the city was alive.

if the palace was a controlled blaze, all measured elegance and precision, then the city streets were wild flame—spilling over with sound and color and movement. music floated from alleyways. tambourines and laughter clashed in the air. vendors shouted, children darted past with sticky fingers and flower crowns half-falling from their heads. there were petals in the gutters, on rooftops, in hair and soup and bootprints.

caleb adjusted the collar of his uniform and pressed forward through the bustle.

he could’ve taken the back roads to the tailor’s shop. would’ve been faster. easier.

but the sound of spring was a good distraction. from thoughts. from dreams.

from him.

his eyes scanned over faces and lanterns and draped silk—when suddenly—

“caleb!”

he turned automatically at the voice. his eyes scanned the crowd—bright dresses, spinning skirts, too many faces.

“over here, you dummy.”

yuu’s head popped up from behind a crate of blooms—orange marigolds, pale daffodils, and near-bursting peonies spilling out around her like a crown. her apron was dusted with pollen, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and her hair tied messily with a ribbon that looked like it’d been tied in a hurry.

“come and help me out! put those muscles to work!”

he let out a short laugh under his breath and made his way over.

“bossing me around already?” he teased, rolling up his sleeves.

yuu snorted, stepping aside as he crouched down and lifted the crate with practiced ease. “someone has to. might as well be your younger, smarter, much better-looking sibling.”

“delusional,” he said, but his smile lingered.

there was no rush.

he hadn’t seen her properly in weeks. the capital kept them both busy in their own ways—him with steel and orders, her with blossoms and clients.

“busy day?” he asked.

she looked up, then wiped the back of her hand across her forehead with a dramatic sigh. “you think?”

a moment passed before she grinned, the kind of grin that still made him remember the tiny girl wrapped in threadbare blankets.

“you’re actually early.”

he shrugged. “didn’t have anywhere else to be.”

she narrowed her eyes. “you got time off?”

“technically.”

“voluntary?”

“no.”

she snorted. “that’s what i thought.”

they walked side by side through the crowd, her basket swinging from one arm, his gloved hands steady under the weight of the crate. he moved carefully, naturally carving a path through the crowd just by being there. people gave way.

when they first moved to the capital, it wasn’t like that.

back then, the glances had been sharper. dismissive. a no-name girl from the slums setting up a flower shop? with calloused hands and no patron?

they didn’t take her seriously.

until zayne came.

until the prince himself stepped through the door one late summer afternoon, crownless, soft-spoken, and pointedly interested in her blooms. he left with a small bouquet of white jasmines. then came again. and again.

he never made a show of it.

but people noticed. nobles don’t ignore the preferences of a prince.

the stares changed after that. the tone shifted. business picked up. respect crept in through locked doors. and eventually, they stopped asking who she was.

no one wanted to offend someone the prince clearly favored.

no one wanted to cross his knight, either.

now, yuu’s shop thrived. people came in because of the rumors, and stayed because of her charm. her hands were fast, her arrangements clever, and her temper sharp enough to cut through even the snobbiest noble. caleb was proud, though he rarely said it. she knew anyway.

they knew.

and when zayne nominated her shop to join the planning committee for the spring festival? that sealed it.

“your prince really knows how to change a reputation,” yuu said offhandedly, as if reading his mind.

caleb didn’t look at her. “he’s not my prince.”

“sure,” she said, amused. “and i’m the queen of summerhill.”

he gave her a look.

“what?” she smirked. “it’s not a crime to admit someone cares about you.”

“he doesn’t—”

he sighed and adjusted his grip on the crate.

she skipped ahead to unlock her shop door, pushing it open with her hip. “come on. put that down and help me string these up.”

“remind me again why i tolerate you?”

“because you’re stuck with me,” she grinned. “now move, muscle-boy.”

he shook his head but followed her inside. the shop was warm, smelling of lavender and crushed stems. the windows were fogged with condensation, and sunlight speared through in gold patches. ribbons and vines were scattered everywhere. she already had piles of garlands half-made on the counter.

he set the crate down.

yuu was already busy again, weaving lilacs into a long cord of ivy. her fingers moved quickly, confidently.

he stayed there a moment longer than he meant to, just watching.

“you’ve gotten good at that,” he said.

she looked at him sideways. “only took years of practice and eighty-seven burned bouquets.”

“eighty-seven?”

“rounded down.”

they both laughed, the kind that came easy now. easier than it ever did back when everything was about survival.

caleb glanced around. “the shop looks good.”

“it’ll look better when i’m not buried under orders.” she pointed her scissors toward the mountain of pending deliveries. “but it’s a good kind of tired, y’know?”

he nodded. “yeah.”

maybe, if he was being honest with himself, this—yuu in her element, the scent of blooms, the simple quiet—was his favorite part of spring.

at some point, she paused, hands on her hips, giving him a once-over. “you look tired.”

“i’m always tired.”

“no, not that kind.” she tilted her head, sharp as ever. “the kind where your bones forget how to relax.”

he blinked at her.

she tossed an apple at him—red and shiny. “take a seat for once. i’ll let you watch me boss people around.”

he caught it reflexively.

“only if i can keep guarding the door.”

yuu rolled her eyes. “you are the most annoying bodyguard.”

“and you’re the loudest florist.”

they both grinned.

he didn’t rush to the tailor’s.

not yet.

~~~

when the shop finally quieted down—flowers sold, shelves dusted, and petals swept from the floor—yuu flipped the sign to closed and sighed with satisfaction. afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting soft gold over everything.

caleb was already by the tiny back counter, brewing tea like he always did when things slowed down. he knew where everything was by heart—what cabinet held the honey, which cup yuu preferred, how long to steep the blend she liked best.

she plopped onto the chair across from him, stretching her arms before slumping like a cat in the sun, cookie in one hand, foot dangling off the armrest.

“these are still good,” she said with her mouth full, holding up a half-bitten butter cookie.

“they should be. didn’t he send those just last week?”

“two weeks,” she corrected, biting again. “zayne has good taste.”

caleb gave her a look but didn’t argue. he carried the cups over and set one beside her, then sat on the stool opposite.

yuu watched him for a beat, then casually dropped the bomb.

“so. you’re going to the ball this time, right?”

he smiled faintly into his tea. “i thought you already knew.”

“i wanted to hear it from you, specifically.” she wiggled her eyebrows. “this year’s spring ball will be even more special. i had this grand idea and the court totally loved it.”

caleb narrowed his eyes. “sounds concerning.”

“wow,” she said flatly, grabbing a cookie and lobbing the crumbs at his chest. “you’re just bitter i have better taste.”

he brushed them off, grinning.

“in any case,” she went on, “we’ve decided that just a regular ball is boring, so i pitched a soft opening the night before. something slow, warm, intimate. held in the royal greenhouse.”

he blinked. “so basically, an extra day of celebration.”

“exactly!” she beamed. “spring only comes once a year. one day isn’t enough to celebrate it.”

“and you want more,” caleb said dryly. “as expected from my greedy sister.”

“i’m gonna pretend not to hear that.”

“then i’ll just say it again until you—”

“ugh,” she groaned, launching another crumb at him. “you’re so annoying.”

before he could dodge, she stuffed a cookie in his mouth with all the finesse of a long-suffering little sister.

“mmph,” caleb protested weakly, chewing.

“the point is,” she said sweetly, wiping her hands, “you’re gonna need another outfit for the opening event. and i—” she gestured dramatically—“have already booked a spot with a tailor i know.”

he looked at her, exasperated. “i can just wear my uniform.”

she made a face. “absolutely not.”

“you used to say it looked good.”

“it does look good. when you’re stabbing something. but next to zayne? you’ll look like a polished shovel.”

“harsh.”

“only for you, brother dearest.” she leaned back smugly. “you need something that says spring. flowers. elegance. freshness. not… death, war, and unprocessed trauma.”

he snorted into his cup.

“besides,” she added, her tone light but eyes sharp, “what’s wrong with dressing up a little? it’s not just for you, you know. it’s for him.”

“yuu—”

“gods forbid the poor prince stand next to you in full chainmail. do you want him to disown you as his knight? because that’s how you get disowned.”

“i take good care of that armor,” he muttered.

“i’m sure it’ll shine beautifully under the moonlight while repelling compliments and human emotion,” she said sweetly.

he took another sip of his tea, pretending she wasn’t right.

“come on, caleb.” she leaned forward on her elbows, more serious now. “instead of brooding alone in your barracks and writing tragic sonnets in your head, maybe try doing something.”

“i don’t write sonnets.”

“you write sad poetry in sword metaphors. it counts.”

“i’m just a knight, yuu.”

she paused, looking at him.

“no,” she said quietly. “you’re caleb. and he doesn’t see you as ‘just’ anything.”

he stared at the tea swirling in his cup.

her voice turned cheeky again. “wouldn’t it be romantic if you two showed up in matching outfits?”

“i’d get stoned for trying to outshine his highness.”

“you’re not trying to outshine him, you dolt. you’re trying to stand beside him. there’s a difference.” she grinned and flicked his nose. “just pick something understated and pretty. like you.”

he gave her a look of long-suffering patience, but there was something soft behind it.

“you’re relentless,” he said.

“i’m rooting for the tragic pining knight,” she said proudly, standing to clean up the crumbs. “and if i have to play fairy godmother to get him out of his own way, so be it.”

caleb let out a long sigh.

he gave her a flat look. she didn’t back down.

“yuu, i really don’t think—”

“you trust me, don’t you?” she nudged his foot under the table. “just… let yourself have something, for once. even if it’s just a stupid, nice outfit for a stupid, fancy party.”

he didn’t answer for a while. the afternoon sun warmed his back. outside, a lute was playing something slow and bright.

finally, he exhaled, low and reluctant. “…nothing too flashy.”

yuu grinned like a fox who just won a bet. “of course not. just enough to make his royal heart skip a beat.”

~~~

the heart of the capital buzzed with life, but tucked between a modest bakery and an old apothecary was a quiet tailor shop with sun-faded curtains and a small wooden sign that simply read: “minerva’s.”

inside, it smelled of lavender, pressed cotton, and time.

the old woman behind the counter—small, stooped, with silver hair in a tidy bun—perked up the moment yuu entered.

“yuu! my favorite troublemaker,” minerva greeted, her voice dry but kind. “and you’ve brought a reluctant mannequin.”

caleb offered a polite nod. “ma’am.”

“oh, he’s polite. i like him already.”

yuu laughed as she led him inside. “don’t mind him. he’s just being dramatic because i’m asking him to wear colors.”

“tragic,” minerva said with a chuckle. “what is it today? festival wear?”

“for the opening event,” yuu said. “something clean, relaxed. but also elegant. no heavy armor. no stiff collars. no depressing blacks.”

caleb muttered something under his breath and followed her toward the fabric samples.

yuu was already pulling swatches off hangers, holding them up to his face like a painter testing hues against a canvas.

“white’s too overrated,” she declared, tossing the swatch aside. “and knowing you, you’ll probably get it dirty in a matter of seconds.”

caleb raised an eyebrow. “what am i, a child?”

“i’d say dog, but that works too.”

minerva snorted from behind a pile of ribbons.

they went through beige (“too plain”), charcoal black (“too funeral”), deep navy (“too formal”), and dusty rose (“too bold, your face turned scarlet, caleb”). every suggestion ended in some form of exaggerated sigh from either sibling.

“i really don’t think anyone’s going to care what i wear,” he muttered.

“i care.” yuu gave him a look. “you’re representing me too, you know. can’t have people thinking i let my brother dress like a walking bruise.”

finally, yuu held up a bolt of fabric—soft, silky, a pale baby blue that shimmered slightly in the light.

she held it up under caleb’s chin, squinting critically.

“purple eyes and blue? i’m such a genius,” she declared smugly.

caleb rolled his eyes. “weren’t you just ranting about cool tones an hour ago?”

“i evolved,” she said primly. “besides, this blue is soft. it’ll contrast with your eyes just right, but still keep that airy spring feel. you’ll look expensive without trying.”

“expensive and edible,” minerva added absently, threading a needle. “that’s what the young people want these days.”

caleb choked slightly. “i’m going to stand next to the prince, not get auctioned.”

yuu only grinned.

“alright,” she clapped, “next is the design.”

caleb groaned. “i thought we were done.”

yuu gave him a look. “what, you thought we’d just wrap you in fabric and call it a day? this isn’t a funeral, caleb. this is the spring ball. you are the prince’s escort. you’re going to be standing next to a living daydream in tailored silks and pearls. you cannot look like a glorified paperweight.”

“i am a glorified paperweight,” he muttered.

~~~

the design process was merciless. caleb stood like a statue while measurements were taken and pins were jabbed and fabric draped and redraped.

eventually, they agreed on something simple but refined.

a light, flowing shirt with a soft sheen, open at the collar, the shoulders adorned with delicate hand-stitched floral embroidery—madonna lilies, white on pale blue. it was subtle, not flashy, but there was meaning in the design. lilies, like the ones zayne used to pick from the gardens when they were young. gentle. hopeful. pure.

the pants were a clean, light beige—tailored straight, with soft creases that elongated his frame without stiffness. no capes, no overcoats. just a sash to pull the look together.

simple.

understated.

beautiful.

“can you move in it?” yuu asked as caleb tested a few motions.

“feels strange not wearing plates or a sword.”

“you’re not going to war,” she reminded him. “you’re going to walk beside the man you love and pretend like you’re just his friend.”

“that’s comforting.”

“then my job here is done,” she said brightly.

minerva pinned a few seams and told them to return in two days for final adjustments.

and caleb just couldn’t help but wonder what zayne will wear. he wouldn’t say it aloud, but he could already picture it.

zayne in his usual soft colors—maybe lavender or cream. standing beside him, smiling that quiet, genuine smile. surrounded by flowers. music in the air.

and caleb, for once, not in steel.

not a shield.

just… him.

maybe, just for one night, that would be enough.

~~~

with caleb’s outfit settled and paid for, the tailor shop should’ve been a place to relax—at least for him. but now it was yuu’s turn. and that meant one thing:

they were going to be here all day.

he sat on the bench near the front window, chin in his palm, watching the city pass them by as his sister and minerva sank into the deep trenches of design discussions. he barely heard them anymore—just the faint hum of her voice as she asked his opinion on everything from lace trim to floral accents, none of which he really registered.

his responses came on autopilot. “mhm.” “yeah.” “looks good.” “sure.”

she didn’t notice. or maybe she did and simply didn’t care—too immersed in chiffon debates and neckline wars.

then, outside the window, something caught his eye.

a flicker of deep blue.

not just anyone’s cloak.

caleb narrowed his eyes. that cut of fabric. that deliberate looseness at the hood. the way the figure moved, as if walking without purpose—but too casual, too calculated.

someone trained.

someone familiar.

caleb straightened slightly. a half-second of disbelief before instinct kicked in and recognition filled his chest like warmth creeping in from the cold.

he grinned before he even realized it.

“i’ll be right back,” he said offhandedly.

“don’t care,” yuu mumbled, waving him off without looking up from a swatch of lilac silk.

and just like that, caleb slipped out the door and into the crowd, eyes locked onto the familiar figure ahead.

the man in the cloak walked at a steady pace, not rushed but clearly aware. his steps were deliberate, leading—not wandering. and caleb, sharp and trained, could tell.

he knows i’m following.

good.

he trailed behind, careful not to get too close, letting the noise of the festival and the chatter of the market blur his presence. he could feel the subtle push and pull—he was luring him, guiding him off the main street.

and caleb let himself be led.

when they reached a quiet alley, tucked between two closed shops with vine-covered brick and a half-lit lantern flickering above, caleb stepped in.

empty.

no footsteps. no cloak.

gone.

he didn’t even get a full second to react before something jabbed lightly into his back.

“move,” came a low voice behind him, “and someone will get hurt.”

he should’ve tensed. should’ve drawn his blade or reacted with the instinct of a knight.

but instead?

he laughed. quiet, amused, and genuine.

raising his hands in mock surrender, he turned his head slowly. “spare me, kind sir,” he said, grin already tugging at his mouth, “your choice of weapon is quite terrifying.”

hazel green eyes met his—soft and amused—and in zayne’s hand, held dangerously close to caleb’s spine, was a half-eaten scone.

zayne arched a brow, his voice steady despite the smile forming. “anything can be a weapon. isn’t that what you told me?”

“you listen well,” caleb murmured, turning fully to face him.

zayne took a bite of the scone without breaking eye contact. “and yet, my loyal knight is out here... stalking me?”

caleb gave a casual shrug. “i’d answer your question—if you answer mine first.”

zayne tilted his head.

“why,” caleb stepped closer, hand gently tugging the hood of the cloak back, revealing the familiar raven hair and that unbothered royal expression, “are you here and not in the castle?”

zayne didn’t flinch at the closeness. if anything, his gaze only softened.

“you mean why am i not buried under ten piles of paperwork?”

“exactly that.” caleb eyed him up and down. “and alone, no guards?”

“escaped,” zayne said simply.

caleb narrowed his eyes. “you what.”

“i needed air.”

“you escaped the palace, ditched your guards, and went on a solo trip to the capital city—during festival week—for air?”

zayne took another bite of the scone.

“...and for these. the bakery near yuu’s shop just got a fresh batch.”

caleb stared. “you risked your life for a snack.”

“it's a very good snack.”

caleb exhaled, half-laughing, half-defeated. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and you followed me like a lost dog.”

“well, i was worried you'd get mugged.”

zayne smirked. “by whom? a street musician? i’m armed, you know.” he raised the scone slightly as if to demonstrate.

caleb’s eyes dropped to the baked good, then back up to him. “you’re lucky i’m off duty today or else i would’ve report this.”

“so does that mean i have you all to myself?”

“…that depends,” caleb murmured, voice low. “are you going to try and poke me with more baked goods?”

zayne only laughed, stepping back, cloak billowing slightly with the motion. “no promises. besides. i figured you could use a break too.”

“from what?”

“your sister’s fashion tyranny.”

caleb barked a laugh.

“you left her mid-fitting, didn’t you?”

“she’ll be fine,” caleb grinned. “she probably hasn’t even noticed i’m gone.”

“she probably has and is planning your murder.”

he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “worth it.”

zayne shook his head, stepping closer until they were face-to-face again. “you’ve always been reckless.”

caleb held his gaze. “only when it matters.”

the prince smiled again, softer now. “well then, sir caleb. since you're already shirking your knightly and brotherly duties, care to walk with me a bit longer?”

caleb pushed off the wall, motioned with a tilt of his head. “lead the way, your highness. i’ll just be your very conspicuous shadow.”

“come on,” zayne said after chuckling softly, motioning with his head as he turned out of the alley. “let’s take the long way. the city's nice in spring. and you can keep glaring at me from two steps behind like a real knight.”

he still had crumbs on his coat, a hint of powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth, and yet his tone held the calm finality of someone not to be argued with. caleb raised a brow, but didn’t protest.

“right. and by long way, you mean dodging the castle staff and your royal babysitters for another hour?”

“maybe two,” zayne replied, tugging his hood back up with a practiced nonchalance.

caleb chuckled. “you’re a menace.”

“and you’re indulging me.”

he wasn’t wrong.

with no real destination, they started drifting further into the city. past the main plaza, through narrow paths and crooked alleys, into the deeper curves of the capital where the cobblestones were uneven and flower petals blew freely across the streets.

it was spring. and the kingdom was beginning to bloom.

caleb knew the way well, and zayne didn’t need a guide, not like how he used to. but he followed, silent but ever close, letting the crowd fold around them. it felt almost dangerous, how easily they disappeared into it. the prince and his knight, now just... zayne and caleb.

no titles. no eyes on them. no pressure. just them.

they passed a few familiar shops, a bakery zayne always liked (though they didn’t stop because he already risked his life once for a scone, as caleb reminded him), a little bridge overlooking the koi ponds, and even the old well caleb used to dare yuu to climb when they were kids.

“remember how i once let you out of my sight, you get dragged into a bar fight and end up arm wrestling a baker?”

caleb grinned with mock offense. “that was one time. and i won.”

zayne shook his head but smiled all the same, trailing him through a maze of colorful stalls and busy laughter. the town was dressed in ribbons and blossoms—spring colors everywhere, from window awnings to lanterns being strung across balconies. music played somewhere, soft and buoyant, mixing with the sweet scent of pastries and fresh-cut flowers.

they passed a booth offering lucky charms, another where a child tried and failed to hook a toy fish. caleb slowed, watching.

“you remember when we tried that?” he asked, nodding toward the stall. “i hooked a whole boot. you laughed so hard you fell in.”

zayne laughed softly, a true, unguarded sound. “you pushed me in.”

“you slipped.”

“you pushed me,” zayne insisted, elbowing him lightly. “my boots were soaked for three days.”

“worth it,” caleb muttered, smirking. “and do you remember the baker's son who tried to rob us?”

zayne blinked, startled, then laughed. “he cried when you punched him.”

“he pulled a knife!”

“he was ten.”

“you were lecturing him like a king already.”

zayne’s laugh softened into a quiet smile, the kind that stayed in the corners of his eyes. “feels like a lifetime ago.”

so they wandered, just like before. no crown. no sword. just two boys, grown older and not quite wiser, letting spring wrap around them like the years had never passed.

at one point, caleb bought a small meat skewer and held it out wordlessly. zayne stared at it.

“what?”

“it’s food,” caleb said plainly.

“i know what it is.”

“then take it. or do you want to bite off mine again like you used to?”

zayne rolled his eyes but took it, their fingers brushing briefly. neither commented.

for caleb, the moments began to blur—then and now folding over one another like paper cranes.

zayne stopping to admire a handcrafted comb at a booth, the vendor giving him a discount just for smiling.

zayne bumping his shoulder into caleb’s when he made a dumb joke about using perfume as a smoke bomb.

zayne trying a honey cake and getting powdered sugar on the tip of his nose, refusing to notice it until caleb wiped it off without a word.

eventually, they reached a quieter stretch of the city, where the buildings were painted in soft pastels and the lanterns strung between rooftops swayed lazily with the breeze.

caleb suddenly darted forward.

zayne blinked. “caleb—?”

“last one to the end of the lane buys lunch!” caleb called over his shoulder, already running.

zayne let out a breath through his nose. “you’re such a child.”

but he was already moving.

their footsteps echoed down the lane, light and unhurried despite the game. caleb didn’t run fast—not like he used to—but enough to tease, just enough to make zayne chase. the breeze tousled his hair as he glanced back and laughed.

just like then.

except now, there weren’t any thieves tailing them. no scuffed-up boots or scraped knees from alley brawls. no bruised ribs or bloodied lips. no reason to run—only the desire to feel young again. to feel free.

at the end of the lane, caleb stopped beside a flower stall, slightly breathless.

zayne caught up moments later, not winded in the slightest. “you cheated.”

“you kept up.” caleb grinned.

they stood there for a second, just breathing. just watching the petals drift on the breeze.

and caleb glanced over—zayne was smiling, that same lopsided, quiet smile from all those years ago. the one he used when he was happiest. the one that looked like sunlight breaking past the clouds.

caleb stared longer than he should’ve.

because the sight brought it all back.

the boy who offered him bandages after a fight. the one who wiped dirt from yuu’s face and spoke kindly even when kindness wasn’t earned. the boy who made pinky promises with the seriousness of a blood oath.

that boy was now standing beside him—taller, sharper, wearing layers of silk and responsibility—but the core of him hadn’t changed.

his smile hadn’t changed.

and caleb felt it again. that ache in his chest. familiar, quiet, unrelenting.

because in moments like these, when the world fell away and it was just them… he could almost pretend.

pretend they could always be like this.

“you're staring,” zayne said softly, still looking at the flower cart.

caleb blinked, startled. “was not.”

“you always do, when you think i’m not looking.”

that threw him off. just enough.

caleb turned away quickly, pretending to study a string of colorful charms hanging nearby. “you’re imagining things.”

zayne didn’t press.

instead, he stepped closer and picked out a small bluebell from a bouquet. “here,” he said, offering it to caleb.

“what’s this for?”

“because i won the race. and the winner gets to choose a flower.”

“that’s not how the rules work.”

“i make the rules,” zayne said.

caleb took it anyway. fingers brushing, just for a moment.

and maybe it meant nothing.

or maybe it meant everything.

but gods, he was falling all over again. how can he not? just this once, he thought, maybe the world could be this simple.

~~~

the sun dipped low, smearing the sky in gold and rose as they climbed the final steps. caleb had led them up to one of the lesser-known watchtowers just outside the city’s heart—long abandoned, but still sturdy. it wasn’t far, but most people overlooked it. zayne had only been up here a handful of times, and every time, it had been caleb who brought him.

the view stretched wide: rooftops washed in amber light, narrow alleys glowing soft, and flower-strewn streets still alive with festival buzz. in the distance, the palace shimmered like a dream, its tall spires touched by the last of the sun.

they sat on the stone ledge, feet dangling, a bag of snacks between them—some picked up from vendors, others stolen straight from yuu’s shop (technically, some of them were from zayne.)

caleb handed zayne a rice cracker, and zayne traded him a sweet bun in return.

they ate in easy silence, wind cool against their faces.

then came the stories. slowly at first—half-finished memories and vague references. then louder, more vivid. they laughed until their stomachs hurt, pausing only to chew or catch their breath.

“i still remember how upset you were when you found out i was two years older than you,” zayne said with a crooked grin, leaning back on his hands as the sky darkened to peach.

caleb made a sound between a grunt and a groan. “i was used to being the older one. can you blame me? that whole year, i thought i was the mature one keeping you alive.”

“you were twelve, caleb.”

“exactly. practically an adult.”

zayne’s smile widened, teasing in the way that always made caleb both annoyed and... painfully fond. “yet you never did call me big brother like your sister did.”

caleb narrowed his eyes. “please. you didn’t do anything to earn that title from me.”

“oh?” zayne tilted his head. “i recall someone cried out calling me that once—”

before he could finish, caleb stuffed the custard bun right into his mouth.

“shut up,” he said flatly.

zayne choked on a laugh, wiping at the corner of his mouth as he chewed.

caleb looked away, pretending not to smile.

“i was delirious from blood loss,” he added, quieter this time. “doesn’t count.”

“it was a scratch.”

“it was a sword through the side!”

“you tripped over your own feet and fell into a broom closet. there wasn’t even a sword involved.”

“details,” caleb muttered.

zayne’s laughter quieted into a breathy chuckle. “still,” he said, “it was the first time you called for me. not as a knight. not as a friend. just me.”

caleb stilled.

there was something in zayne’s tone—not teasing anymore. just soft. remembering.

the silence stretched, warm but fragile.

the wind picked up, brushing their hair gently across their faces. the city below was slowly lighting up with lanterns and glowstones. music drifted faintly from the festival streets—distant and dreamlike.

caleb leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring out at the view. “...you were always the kind one.”

zayne turned to look at him. “that’s a strange compliment from you.”

caleb’s voice was quiet. “it’s not a compliment. it’s the truth.”

another pause. not uncomfortable. but weighted.

zayne studied his face, eyes unreadable. “are you alright?”

caleb nodded slowly. “yeah. just… hard to believe it’s spring again.”

zayne didn’t push. he never did.

they sat there together, the sun dipping fully behind the horizon, leaving the world in shades of violet and gold. caleb glanced at zayne then—at the way the light hit his features just right, painting him in something soft and unreal.

and in the pit of his stomach, the ache returned.

caleb didn’t look away. couldn't.

zayne glanced sideways at him, sensing it—like he always did. the tension beneath caleb’s grin. the weight behind the quiet.

but he said nothing.

and in that pause, in the soft press of time between past and present, they just stayed.
side by side.

as the sun slipped lower and the sky began to blush.

zayne chuckled under his breath.

caleb turned toward him, faux-affronted. “what?” he puffed his cheeks. “it’s rude to laugh when you’re staring at someone. do i have something on my face?” he rubbed at his skin in wide, exaggerated motions, feigning panic.

“it’s nothing,” zayne said, trying to keep his smile subtle. unsuccessfully.

“it must be something.” caleb narrowed his eyes, lips twitching. “spill it out before i make you.”

zayne tilted a brow, amused. “and how will you do that?”

“by doing… this!” caleb lunged forward, hands aimed mercilessly at zayne’s sides.

unfortunately for him, zayne was the rare breed of un-ticklish. he just blinked at him, face unchanged, unimpressed.

“seriously? nothing?” caleb groaned, flopping backward for dramatic effect.

“i was trained by professionals,” zayne said matter-of-factly. “also, you forget i hang out with you for two years since we were kids.”

“tch. fine.” caleb pivoted. “then take this instead!”

he reached up and pinched zayne’s cheeks with both hands, tugging them outward like a misbehaving older sibling.

“caleb—!” zayne protested, voice warped and muffled. he swatted at him, trying to free himself.

they wrestled briefly, stumbling over each other, laughing like children again—until the motion tipped them both to the side, rolling slightly along the hard floor, careful enough to not roll over to their death from such a height. well, maybe just a few broken bones but still.

caleb ended up on top, pinning zayne’s wrists with ease, a victorious grin on his face. “told you i’d win.”

zayne glared at him through tousled strands of hair. “you’re such a child.”

but caleb didn’t answer. his gaze had dropped.

because zayne’s sleeves had ridden up. and there—thin and pale but still visible—were the faint lines that scarred his forearms.

lines caleb recognized instantly.

burns. cuts. rope marks.

caleb’s hands slowly loosened their grip. his expression changed completely—like the wind had been knocked out of him. his chest tightened. he could barely breathe.

his victory grin vanished. replaced by something hollow.

he didn’t notice zayne shifting beneath him, or the way the other boy’s smile had also faded.

he just stared.

those are still there...

still there after all this time.

memories crashed down like a storm.

the bruises on zayne’s face. the swelling. the blood. the smell of damp wood and rusted metal in that godforsaken warehouse.

the way he found him—barely conscious, tied up like a broken thing in the corner of a room, surrounded by those monsters.

and worse, how he almost didn’t go.

how he told him to never come back.

the sharp taste of rage and guilt in his throat.

he remembered the way he’d moved that day—not like himself. like something else. something feral. no thought, no plan—just instinct and blind fury. the desperate search. the frantic chase through alleyways. swinging a rusted pipe through someone’s ribs, feeling it crack and give. the thugs didn’t even have time to beg. just grunts and gasps before their bodies hit the floor.

caleb didn’t even remember running there. he’d just... known. the moment he overheard those thugs whispering about a “pretty noble boy” they’d snatched off the streets—he knew. and when they mentioned green eyes, he didn’t hesitate.

it was all his fault.

because he’d felt betrayed. because he’d thought zayne had lied about who he was, about what they had. because he’d been a child, and he let his own pride burn bridges he didn’t know how to rebuild.

if he hadn’t said those things...

if zayne hadn’t been alone that day...

if only—

zayne noticed the change. “caleb…” he said, gently.

but caleb flinched. his whole body tensed, retreating as if burned. he let go of zayne’s hands, scrambled back a bit, suddenly aware of how close they were. how much had slipped.

zayne sat up, slowly. “it’s alright,” he tried again, voice soft, careful, the same way he used to speak when caleb came back from missions bloodied and too quiet. “you don’t have to—”

but caleb was already moving, standing, brushing off his clothes like the dust had dirtied him. eyes averted. shoulders tight.

“we should head back,” he said, voice clipped. not cold—never cold—but distant. a wall being rebuilt, brick by brick. “i’ll escort you to your guards.”

he forced a crooked smile. “as much as i’d like to take you back to the castle myself, i’m afraid i’ve got my hands full with another troublemaker.”

zayne looked at him, long and steady. hazel-green eyes full of thoughts he wouldn’t say aloud. of the conversation they were almost having. of the pain they both carried, shaped different but shared.

but caleb wasn’t looking.

so zayne just sighed, and stood up beside him.

“alright,” he said quietly.

he didn’t push. he never did.

and together, without another word, they made their way down the hill—two silhouettes walking back into the glow of lantern-lit streets. one carrying guilt too heavy to let go. the other waiting patiently for the day he finally would.

~~~

the sky had dipped fully into dusk now, lanterns flickering to life as shopkeepers lit the hanging wicks with practiced ease. laughter and chatter drifted around them, yet none of it reached caleb. his eyes were forward, but his mind wasn’t. zayne could tell by the way his jaw was tight, by the slump of his shoulders, by the rhythm of his footsteps—measured, distant, like his body was moving out of habit while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

zayne hated it when he went like this.

shut in. locked down.

he remembered the first time they saw each other again after the incident—the real one, not through a report or a glimpse at a distance. caleb had stood frozen, like he couldn’t breathe, violet eyes locked on the scars around zayne’s arms, unblinking. he hadn’t said a word at first. just stared.

then, trembling, he reached out. hands rough from years of swordsmanship, but touch impossibly gentle—like zayne would break if he wasn’t careful. his fingertips ghosted over the marks, and in his silence was a storm of guilt, of punishment, of if i had just—

zayne had told him, again and again: it wasn’t his fault. that he forgave him. that he was fine.
but caleb never quite believed him.

sometimes it took hours. sometimes days. sometimes yuu had to step in, drag him out of it with distractions or teasing or whatever thread she could use to pull him back. and even then, caleb carried that look like a scar of his own.

that was why zayne kept his arms covered.

not because he was ashamed. he had never been ashamed.

but because if he could spare caleb the hurt of seeing them, he would. every time.

“...i assume that’s them,” caleb said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife dulled by restraint.

zayne blinked from his thoughts and followed his gaze.

a few paces ahead, three men were moving quickly through the crowd, scanning faces, asking around. one of them even climbed a stall crate for a better view, nearly toppling the fruit display in the process.

zayne grimaced. “yeah,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “looks like it.”

“get back safely,” caleb murmured. he reached up and gently adjusted the edge of zayne’s hood, pulling it more securely around his face like he always did. protective. automatic. familiar.

then, with a small, tired smile, he added, “and no more sneaking out. not unless you have a guard with you.”

zayne huffed, amused. “but i have you with me.”

that earned him a longer pause than expected.

their eyes met. and for a moment, they just… lingered there. unspoken things hung in the air—things that neither of them dared say just yet. not with everything so delicate. not with the world waiting for them to fall back into their roles again.

“your highness!”

a shout cut through the moment.

one of the men spotted him, pushing through the thinning crowd with relieved urgency.

“oh, thank heavens,” the man panted as he reached them, hands on his knees for a moment before straightening. his round glasses slipped halfway down his nose, and he hurried to nudge them back up. “sir caleb was with you—what a relief.”

“greyson,” zayne greeted him dryly. “you can breathe now.”

“i assure you i haven’t been breathing for the past hour, your highness,” greyson replied, clearly scandalized. “the captain of the guard nearly fainted. do you know how long it took to coordinate the search parties without causing public alarm—?”

“i went for a walk,” zayne said simply. “and i was with caleb the entire time.”

greyson looked at caleb for confirmation. caleb offered a small, nonchalant nod.

“see?” zayne said.

greyson adjusted his glasses again, exasperated but visibly relieved. “if i may be so bold, your highness, perhaps next time you could inform anyone of your whereabouts. we were five minutes away from issuing a lockdown notice.”

zayne gave him a sheepish smile. “next time, i’ll leave a note.”

greyson looked moments away from fainting again. but he only sighed. “let’s get you back, your highness.”

zayne turned back to caleb. the knight was standing still, hands tucked in his pockets, face unreadable but eyes softer than before.

“thanks for today,” zayne said, voice quieter, meant only for him.

caleb gave a short nod. “anytime.”

they didn’t say goodbye.

they never needed to.

and as zayne walked away with his attendants, caleb remained where he was, watching until he disappeared into the sea of torchlight and noise—until he could no longer see the cloak, or the boy underneath it, or the scars he still carried for both of them.

his shoulders sank with a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and he turned on his heel, ready to head back.

whack.

a sharp thud landed on the back of his head.

“caleb, you dummy!” yuu’s voice pierced through the air like an arrow. “i looked everywhere for you!”

“argh—ow! hey!” caleb ducked instinctively as she smacked his chest again and again with her fists—now less of punches and more like dramatic, angry slaps. “what is this, an ambush?”

“you deserve an ambush!” she huffed, fists still flying. “you just disappeared! one second i’m talking about tulle and pastel trims with minerva, and the next, poof! gone like a ghost!”

“i was with the prince!” he defended, catching her wrists gently. “it’s not like i went far, and i did technically told you.”

“oh, so you two were hanging out again,” she accused, eyes narrowing. “without me. again.” she crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks like a child denied a treat. “you always do this. ever since we were kids! you run off with him and leave me behind like some abandoned side character!”

caleb blinked, caught off guard. “side character?”

“i know you like him a lot,” yuu pressed, jabbing a finger into his chest, “but he’s my friend too! why can’t we share?”

caleb barked out a nervous laugh and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes darting around. “would you not say that so loudly in the middle of the street?” he hissed.

yuu pulled his hand off with a wet bleh and crossed her arms dramatically. “you always ditch me whenever he shows up. i’m starting to feel like chopped cabbage.”

“okay, okay!” he said quickly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her away from the crowded street. “let’s save the family drama for somewhere less public, yeah? don’t want people thinking the knight and his sister are unhinged.”

“they’re already thinking that,” yuu grumbled, though she let him guide her. “you’re lucky you’re not bruised from those punches.”

“trust me, i’ve been through worse,” caleb said with a grin, ruffling her hair just enough to mess it up. “and to make it up to you, i’m making braised chicken for dinner.”

that got her attention. she turned her head with a suspicious squint. “braised chicken? the one with honey glaze and rosemary?”

“the very one,” he nodded solemnly. “your favorite.”

yuu tried to keep her pout but it was cracking. “with extra sauce?”

“of course.”

she finally sighed in mock defeat, bumping her shoulder into his. “fine. you’re still a dummy, but at least you cook like a semi-decent human.”

“that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week.”

“don’t get used to it.”

they walked side by side through the now-golden streets, the last light of day dusting the rooftops in orange. caleb looked down at her—his fiery, dramatic, endlessly loyal sister—and felt the tension of earlier slowly start to ease out of his chest.

sometimes, when the world got too heavy, yuu’s presence was the only thing that kept him tethered.

and tonight, chicken and peace offerings would have to do the rest.

~~~

their little home was warm, soft light spilling from the hanging lanterns as the smell of rosemary, garlic, and simmering glaze filled the space. caleb moved around the kitchen like muscle memory, chopping, seasoning, stirring, while yuu perched on the counter, legs swinging and mouth running.

“i’m thinking of asking minerva to teach me some steps,” she said, gesturing dramatically with a spatula she’d somehow acquired. “i am not going to be the girl who trips over her own dress and topples into the dessert table.”

caleb snorted as he stirred the pot. “honestly, if anyone would do that, it’s me.”

“exactly why i need to prepare!” she countered. “one of us needs to look like we belong at the palace.”

“gee, thanks.”

by the time dinner was ready, the table was set simply but neatly, the food steaming and rich with scent. they ate like they always did—quick bites between bickering, fighting over who got the crispier skin, passing plates back and forth without ever needing to ask.

then, just as caleb started to relax, thinking the night would end on a mercifully uneventful note—

“so,” yuu said, licking the last of the glaze off her fingers, “you and zayne alone, huh…”

caleb froze mid-chew.

he didn’t even try to hide it well, his back going just a little too straight, his jaw working slowly to finish the bite he no longer enjoyed.

“yes,” he said eventually. “that’s right.”

yuu hummed. “and…?”

“and nothing happened,” caleb said, already knowing where this was going. he reached for his cup of water like it was a shield.

yuu leaned on her elbows, smiling far too sweetly. “mmhm. just a little stroll, a little snacking, a little rolling around in a sunlit alleyway—”

caleb nearly choked. “how the hell do you know that?”

“i don’t, but i do now,” she beamed. “thanks for confirming.”

he groaned, covering his face. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re transparent,” she pointed a finger, triumphant. “you came back looking like someone slapped you with nostalgia and heartbreak. i know that look.”

“it wasn’t like that,” caleb muttered, dragging his hand down his face. “it was… good. mostly. until i ruined it.”

yuu sobered a little, watching him carefully. “you didn’t ruin anything, caleb.”

“i saw them again,” he said quietly. “the scars.”

her face softened. “oh.”

“he covered them all this time. i didn’t know they reached that far down.”

yuu reached across the table and gently took his hand, thumb brushing his knuckles. “he never blamed you.”

“i know. doesn’t make it easier.”

they sat in silence for a moment, the last bites of dinner going cold.

then yuu, as always, shifted the air back toward something lighter. “well… if you’re gonna keep angsting like a tragic romantic hero, you’d better at least look good doing it.”

caleb blinked. “what does that mean?”

she smirked. “it means i’m booking us a dance lesson tomorrow. you’re not getting out of this.”

caleb groaned. “can i fight in a war instead?”

“not unless you want to embarrass yourself in front of zayne and the entire noble court.”

he narrowed his eyes. “you’re evil.”

“only because i love you,” she grinned. “now help me with the dishes. and maybe, maybe i’ll let you pick the dance music.”

~~~

the warm water ran over his fingers, soft and steady. the scent of soap and lemon lingered in the air. yuu chatted easily beside him, drying the plates with a floral-patterned cloth, speaking excitedly about the dress she'd chosen—soft pinks and creams, how it matched the centerpieces she'd designed for the ballroom. her voice was bright, like it always was when she talked about her flowers.

but caleb’s mind drifted.

he handed her the last plate, and his hands hovered under the stream a moment longer than necessary.

they were steady hands. scarred at the knuckles, calloused from sword training, wrists still bearing the faintest pale lines from sparring accidents. but sometimes—sometimes he still saw them differently.

small. fourteen. clenched too tight around cold iron.

he could still feel the weight of the pipe. the sticky warmth of blood. the numbness that came after. that night, burned into his memory like a fever dream—the rage, the desperation, the sickening crack of bone, and then silence.

caleb had been declared innocent. self-defense, they called it. the men had kidnapped a royal, and he was just a boy trying to save his friend. but even so… he should’ve been put on trial. would’ve been, if not for zayne. the prince had stood up in front of the council, fresh from weeks of recovery, and told them all the truth. that caleb saved his life. that he trusted him.

and still, they gave him a sentence. not prison. training. under the relentless command of sir sieghart. a chance to “reforge” himself, they said.

at first, he counted the days until he could leave. but after a while, he stopped. he stayed. and not just because of zayne.

still, even after all these years, with his sword by his side and a royal seal on his uniform, sometimes…

“yuu,” he said quietly.

she hummed, folding the dish towel neatly. “yeah?”

he stared down into the basin, into the shimmer of water and the ghost of his own reflection. his voice was low, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to hear it.

“do you ever think i’m… still that kid?”

yuu looked up, surprised at the tone.

“that night… i still see it,” he continued. “the blood. my hands. i keep washing them and… they never feel clean.”

yuu stepped closer, taking his hand gently in both of hers, drying it with careful movements even though it was already dry.

“you’re not that kid anymore,” she said softly. “but even then, you were never a monster. you were scared. you were angry. and you protected someone you loved.”

he didn’t say anything, but his shoulders sagged slightly, a quiet kind of relief blooming in his chest.

“i’m not saying it was okay,” she went on, thumb brushing over one of the scars on his knuckle. “but i know you. you carry guilt like armor. and sometimes, you wear it heavier than your sword.”

she looked up at him, her expression firm but kind.

“you became a knight, caleb. not just to protect zayne. but because you are one.”

he let out a slow breath, the kind that feels like something deep had been unclenched. he nodded, once.

“…thanks.”

yuu smiled, squeezing his hand. “now if you’re done brooding, can we pick out your shoes for the ball? i swear to gods, if you show up in those worn out boots, i will disown you.”

he snorted. “and here i thought you loved me.”

“only when your fashion sense cooperates.”

~~~

the sound of clashing wood echoed across the sparring grounds, sharp against the still morning air. the sun was barely up, mist still curling along the edges of the courtyard, but caleb was already drenched in sweat.

this was his third morning in a row training with sir sieghart.

partly because he needed to stay sharp with the spring ball coming up—too many nobles, too many potential threats. but mostly, it was an excuse.

an excuse to get away from yuu's dress rehearsals, dance lectures, and endless teasing.

and more than that, it was a way to clear his head.

but even with the physical release, caleb wasn’t fully present. his mind had a habit of slipping lately. to old memories. to violet eyes. to hands with scars he couldn’t forget.

“you're losing focus, kid.”

before caleb could blink, sieghart’s training sword was at his throat.

the knight grinned, wolfish and smug. “something on your mind?”

caleb huffed, stepping back with a wry smile. “not really… but you did once tell me to respect my elders. so do forgive me for holding back—”

crack.

before he could finish his sentence, sieghart had swept his legs from under him with a low, merciless strike. caleb landed on his back with a grunt, air knocked from his lungs.

“old, not dead,” sieghart quipped, looming over him. “and that mouth of yours still needs some work.”

caleb winced, groaning as he sat up. “you know, one of these days, someone’s gonna report you for abuse.”

sieghart offered a hand, pulling him up with a sharp tug. “if i didn’t hit you, you’d never learn. you’ve been swinging like your head’s stuck in a daydream.”

caleb picked up his sword again, giving it a test twirl. “maybe i’m just not challenged enough.”

“cute. try that line again after you’ve stopped falling on your ass.”

 “you’re really in a good mood today...”

sieghart smirked. “you’re bleeding tension from every pore. figured i’d help bleed some of it out.”

“you have a strange idea of therapy.”

“a word of advice then,” he jabbed the training sword into the ground and leaned on it. “no matter what you’re carrying, your blade has to stay steady.”

caleb exhaled, brushing sweat from his brow. he didn’t argue with that. not today.

“now get in your stance,” sieghart said. “you want to protect someone, right? then start swinging like you mean it.”

caleb picked himself up slowly, eyes a little clearer.

“yes, sir.”

they squared off again, this time with more weight behind their steps. caleb pushed forward, faster, more controlled, the sting of humiliation fueling his strikes.

“better,” sieghart muttered, blocking a heavy blow. “still sloppy.”

“still standing,” caleb shot back.

clang. their swords locked in the middle, wood grinding. sweat beaded at caleb’s brow. his muscles screamed.

“you wanna talk about what’s got you distracted,” sieghart grunted, “or you wanna keep pretending it’s just the weather?”

caleb’s expression twitched—brief, almost imperceptible. but sieghart saw it.

“i’m fine,” he muttered, stepping back, resetting his stance.

sieghart didn’t press. he never did, not directly. but his next swing came harder, faster, as if to say then prove it.

and caleb did. or at least, he tried.

because right now, bruises were easier to deal with than feelings. and facing sieghart’s sword was a hell of a lot simpler than facing his past again.

by the time the afternoon sun baked the courtyard in gold, caleb was sprawled on the ground again, panting, bruised, and still sore from the last sparring round.

he still hadn’t landed a clean hit on sieghart.

irritating.

but that was also exactly why he respected the man.

sieghart wasn’t just some over-glorified knight with empty titles. he was the sieghart—relentless, pragmatic, sharp as hell. he talked big, but unlike most, he could back it up. and caleb, stubborn as he was, had never been able to take him down. not once in all these years.

when sieghart trained him, there were no soft touches, no baby steps. even when caleb was just a scrawny, angry kid thrown into the barracks, sieghart didn’t hold back. and that was infuriating. because every time caleb thought he’d improved, the man would knock him flat again, then look down with those same sharp eyes—as if daring him to try harder. as if saying you’re not there yet.

he hated it.

and maybe that’s why he never quit.

because no matter how much it hurt, something about sieghart made him want to rise and fight back again. always.

he'd never admit it aloud, but the man was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.

not that he'd ever say that. he'd rather stab himself with his own training sword.

“eleven years,” sieghart muttered, walking over and tossing a towel straight at his head. “and you're still no match for me. i wonder if it’s because i’m too strong, or i’m just a shit teacher.”

caleb caught the towel with a lazy swipe. “certainly the latter.”

sieghart smirked. “still got that mouth on you. good.”

caleb flopped back against the bench, staring up at the sky through the slats of a training dummy's post. “i’m starting to think you just enjoy beating me up.”

“it’s part of my charm.”

“you sure you weren’t a sadist in a past life?”

sieghart leaned against the post beside him, arms crossed. “if i was, i probably wouldn’t have wasted this much time training a scrawny street rat into a half-decent knight.”

caleb snorted. “i was not scrawny.”

“you were bones and rage. still kind of are.”

caleb shook his head with a tired smile. “you know, sometimes i wonder if you actually like me or if i’m just your longest-running charity case.”

sieghart gave a rare, short laugh. “can’t it be both?”

caleb smirked but didn’t rise right away. he stayed seated, wiping sweat off his neck. there was something simmering in the back of his mind. a thought that had been gnawing at him for days now.

they sat in silence for a bit. he chewed on his next words, debating if it was even worth bringing up. and he figured, if he was going to ask anyone… it had to be someone who wouldn’t bullshit him.

“hey, look, um…” caleb rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting the older man’s eyes. sieghart glanced his way, one brow arched in mild suspicion.

“what? out with it. hesitation kills a man before anything else does.”

caleb exhaled sharply and sat up straighter, keeping his eyes on the dirt between his boots.

“have you ever… failed someone before?” he asked. “like, did something stupid that… cost a lot. or cost someone.”

the words came out low. too quiet for someone like him. but he didn’t look up.

sieghart was quiet for a while. caleb expected some dismissive scoff, or a joke about youth and mistakes. maybe even a jab about his mood.

but it didn’t come.

when sieghart finally spoke, his voice was unusually calm. flat.

“i did,” he said. “a lot of them.”

he twirled his training sword slowly in his hand, the wood creaking as he gripped it tighter.

“and they’re all dead because of me.”

the words landed with a thud. no drama. no hesitation. just plain, brutal truth.

caleb’s breath caught slightly.

sieghart wasn’t someone who handed out vulnerability. the man’s entire being was built on stone walls and sharp edges. but in that moment, there was something unguarded behind his eyes. something old.

“i made calls i thought were right,” sieghart went on. “i charged in when i should’ve waited. held back when i should’ve acted. trusted the wrong people. didn’t trust the right ones.”

he let out a low, humorless laugh. “being strong doesn’t mean shit when you’re wrong at the wrong time.”

caleb finally looked up.

sieghart met his gaze evenly. “so if you’ve made a mistake, join the club. but don’t carry it like it’s some special curse. you’re not the first. you won’t be the last.”

“you can’t rewrite it. gods know i’ve tried enough times with my own damn past. but you can own it. and you have.” his eyes sharpened. “just don’t let it stop you.”

caleb swallowed, throat tight. he didn’t say anything at first. just nodded faintly.

“...thanks.”

sieghart stood up, brushing dirt off his pants with a grunt. “yeah, yeah. go drink some water before you pass out. you still got the reaction speed of a drunk raccoon.”

caleb rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders had eased. just a little.

and for the first time that day, he let himself breathe a little easier.

“and if this is about the prince—which i know for sure it is—tell him already before your sister beats you to it.”

“i wasn’t—” caleb groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “gods, not you too...”

sieghart smirked as he slung his towel over his shoulder, walking ahead with that usual unbothered swagger. “kid, you think i’ve been training you for years just to stay blind? come on.”

caleb scowled and looked away. was he that obvious? he liked to think he was subtle. steady. if zayne hadn’t said anything about it, that had to mean he was doing a good job hiding it, right?

right?

“it’s like watching a dog beg for treats,” sieghart muttered, deadpan.

caleb shot him a glare. “i resent that.”

sieghart chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “then maybe stop staring at his highness like you’re trying to burn two holes through his skull. and maybe stop looking like you’re about to throw up every time the prince smiles at you.”

but then he snapped his fingers as if remembering something crucial. “or wait—maybe that’s the point. you want to get caught. that it, soldier? need me to help you confess those sweet little feelings?”

“don’t.”

“oh, come on. let an old man play matchmaker. i could help you write a letter! you want it tragically sweet or dripping with poetic longing?” he raised a hand theatrically, mock-rehearsing: “my dearest zayne, each moment without you is a sword to my soul—”

“sieghart,” caleb growled, fists clenched, cheeks hot.

“—your gaze, a battlefield where i gladly lose—”

that was enough.

caleb grabbed his wooden sword and swung with a clean arc toward the older knight’s head. sieghart dodged it with a laugh, dancing a few steps back with ease.

“not. another. word.”

sieghart grinned, his stance already shifting back into readiness. “then earn my silence, brat.”

and just like that, they were back to sparring.

the rhythmic thuds of their wooden swords echoed through the courtyard. sweat flew, and grunts filled the gaps. whatever embarrassment sieghart had stirred in him, it only fueled his fire. he moved faster, tighter, less distracted.

and then—finally—he saw an opening.

with a twist and a snap, caleb disarmed sieghart, the training sword clattering onto the ground.

he blinked. then grinned.

“i did it,” he breathed. “i actually—”

a second passed. then another.

“you gonna start crying or do a victory dance too?” sieghart drawled, but there was a spark of genuine pride beneath the sarcasm.

“as promised, now keep your mouth shut,” caleb added, glancing up, “and don’t even think about telling zayne—”

“tell me what?”

caleb froze mid-sentence, his smugness vanishing like steam.

sieghart, on the other hand, was all too delighted.

because not too far from them, zayne stood near the entrance of the training grounds, arms loosely crossed, eyebrow raised in amusement. the wind tousled his dark hair slightly as he tilted his head, waiting for an answer.

caleb stared. then blinked. then tried to casually slide himself between zayne and sieghart.

“zayne,” he muttered, before correcting himself with practiced stiffness. “your highness. what brings you here?”

he elbowed sieghart in the ribs. hard.

sieghart just smiled wider. the kind of grin that said i’m not going to say it… but i’m going to make you think i will.

“i was actually looking for your mentor,” zayne said, nodding toward him. “your presence is requested at the palace. something about a briefing for the festival.”

“ah. right. briefing.” sieghart said with feigned solemnity, already walking off. “caleb, your form was sloppy on the left today. we’ll fix that tomorrow. in the meantime—”

he paused, looked between the two of them with a twinkle in his eye, and added, “—don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.”

caleb threw his towel at his back as the man exited with a laugh.

then it was just him and zayne.

caleb stood there, suddenly too aware of the sweat dripping from his chin, the bruises, and the way his hair was sticking to his forehead. not exactly the image he wanted to project right after being teased to hell and back.

zayne’s gaze drifted to caleb again. he looked like he wanted to say something more, or maybe ask a follow-up to the “tell me what,” but he let it go… for now.

instead, he simply said, “you’ve improved.” gesturing slightly to the training ground. “disarming sieghart isn’t easy.”

“i nearly lost an arm doing it,” caleb muttered, rubbing his shoulder.

“but you didn’t,” zayne smiled. “that’s impressive.”

caleb tried to look unaffected, but the compliment made something in his chest squeeze tight. he looked down, hiding the smile that threatened to break through. “thanks.”

zayne looked at him, still amused. “you really weren’t going to tell me what that was about, huh?”

caleb forced a laugh. “not if i can help it.”

“i’ll get it out of you eventually.” zayne smirked, light and teasing, but with a softness in his voice.

and damn it, caleb was starting to think he wouldn’t mind it if he did.

“come on,” zayne said, turning slightly, “walk with me to the meeting. you can guard me from all the terrifying festival planners.”

caleb snorted but followed. “only because you’re so helpless.”

“exactly.”

zayne’s laugh lingered in the air, soft and real—like a secret only caleb got to hear. the kind that reached his eyes, crinkled at the corners, familiar and disarming all at once.

as they walked, their steps fell in sync without trying. the training grounds gave way to cobblestone paths winding through the inner court, where palace staff bustled in preparation. banners hung half-raised. musicians practiced somewhere in the distance, their notes floating aimlessly in the breeze.

“i hear the decorators want to put glitter on the palace horses,” zayne said offhandedly, stealing a sideways glance at him.

caleb raised a brow. “i’ll set myself on fire.”

“too dramatic.”

“you’ve clearly never tried to clean glitter off armor.”

zayne laughed again, and caleb caught himself smiling—too easily, too instinctively.

there was still so much between them left unsaid. old memories, unhealed wounds, half-formed words caught in the throat. but here, now, with the warmth of the afternoon and the sound of zayne’s laughter in his ears, those things didn’t feel so heavy.

at least not for a moment.

zayne glanced at him again—brief, thoughtful, then he nudged caleb lightly with his shoulder.

“thanks,” he said quietly.

caleb didn’t ask what for.

he didn’t have to.

they rounded the bend toward the main building, voices growing louder ahead, the edge of duty starting to creep back in. but even then—walking side by side, with steps just a little too close, smiles lingering too long—they were just themselves.

still holding onto whatever this was.

~~~

the morning of the spring opening bloomed bright and vibrant, as if the whole town had conspired to match the occasion. the air smelled faintly of flowers and pastries, distant music already drifting in from the plaza.

caleb, however, was suffering.

"hold still!" yuu scolded, tightening the last clasp of a bracelet around his wrist. "you squirm more than a child."

"i'm not squirming," caleb muttered, glaring at his reflection. "i'm resisting being turned into a walking wind chime."

yuu only grinned, completely unbothered. "you look incredible. admit it."

he looked again. the soft baby blue shirt they’d chosen a few days back now draped over his frame with an effortless kind of grace, the madonna lilies embroidered on the shoulders catching the light with a subtle sheen. the open collar gave it a laid-back charm, and the smooth, tailored khaki pants gave him a silhouette even he had to admit looked… decent.

but it was the accessories that truly pushed it into something else entirely.

silver chains looped across his chest and draped behind his back like strands of moonlight. the layered necklaces shimmered with every move. even the braided belt—light in color, with small metallic accents—added an elegant edge to the outfit. the bracelets clicked softly with each movement of his wrist, and he had to admit… it did feel kind of cool. grown up. put together.

the loafers, though. “you know i could trip in these. they’re slippery.”

yuu scoffed. “you’re more likely to trip over your own nerves than your shoes.”

caleb shot her a look.

she only smiled, stepping back to take it all in, hands on her hips with proud satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “perfect. just enough to turn heads, but not enough to scream desperate.”

“i don’t want to turn heads,” caleb said, exasperated.

“you will, anyway.” she leaned in, adjusting one last chain behind his shoulder. “especially his.”

caleb blinked. “yuu.”

“what? i’m just saying.” she shrugged, innocent as ever, then gave him a small nudge toward the door. “now go. i want to see you out there looking like you stepped out of a storybook.”

and so he did. begrudgingly. but with a twitch of a smile tugging at his lips.

the grand greenhouse was already alive with light chatter and slow steps. golden rays filtered through glass panels overhead, making the sea of blooms shimmer as nobles and foreign guests trickled in one by one. the air was thick with perfume—floral and expensive—and caleb was doing everything he could not to look like he was trying to find the nearest exit.

he kept his posture straight, hands folded behind him, eyes scanning everything but the crowd. he caught glimpses of yuu’s handiwork among the decor: flower arches laced with ribbon and tiny hanging bells, ornamental vines trailing down pillars, even the soft pastel petals scattered along the paths like spring had personally arranged them. caleb couldn’t help but smile a little. she’d done good.

still, it didn’t stop the occasional glances that kept hitting him like small arrows—noblewomen whispering behind fans, a few younger guests not-so-subtly nudging one another and pointing. caleb had the fleeting thought of just diving behind one of the large ornamental pots and hiding there until the event ended.

that is, until a voice behind him nearly made him jump.

“well, don’t you look charming today.”

caleb turned with a glare half-formed, but it faded quickly into a flat stare as he recognized the man now standing next to him.

sieghart.

the knight looked... put together for once. his usually unkempt hair was slicked back, revealing the sharp cut of his jaw. he wore a fitted white shirt beneath a royal blue vest adorned with fine gold embroidery. his pants were black and tailored, and his tall boots were laced with a white-and-blue pattern that matched the vest. a white rose pinned at his shoulder completed the look, just formal enough without being overly showy.

caleb raised an eyebrow. “what, did someone bribe you to clean up?”

sieghart smirked. “protocol, unfortunately. but don’t change the subject—you, on the other hand, almost had me fooled. thought you might’ve been royalty.” he gave caleb a slow once-over, clearly amused. “braided belt, chains, sparkly bits. very subtle.”

“yuu,” caleb grumbled, tugging lightly at one of the necklaces. “i had no choice.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that. you look like you were dressed under threat.”

caleb shot him a side glance. “say one more thing and i’m shoving you into the chocolate fountain.”

“tempting,” sieghart chuckled. “but then you’d be the one carrying me out. how scandalous.”

despite himself, caleb huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “you’re impossible.”

“flattering.” sieghart tilted his head, then scanned the greenhouse. “the king and queen haven’t arrived yet. neither has prince zayne, i assume?”

“no,” caleb said, his voice quieter, gaze flickering toward the main entrance again.

sieghart watched him for a second longer, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “relax. you’ve already caught half the room’s attention. just don’t faint before your prince shows up.”

“i’m this close to stabbing you with a cocktail skewer.”

“but then who would be here to deflect all the lovely nobles trying to flirt with you?”

caleb grumbled under his breath, tugging at one of his bracelets. “i swear, if she added one more chain, i’d be rattling like a ghost.”

“you are haunting the hearts of the young ladies here,” sieghart said dramatically, glancing out at the crowd. “and the young men. and the old ones, probably. honestly, i’m surprised no one’s burst into tears yet.”

“i hate you,” caleb muttered.

“no, you don’t. you’re just flustered.”

caleb was preparing to deliver a sharp comeback when a sudden hush fell over the greenhouse. the soft hum of the crowd dimmed, and everyone turned subtly toward the grand entrance.

the clear, ringing voice of the herald cut through the air.

“presenting his majesty king eryndor, her majesty queen avelline, and his royal highness, prince zayne.”

a ripple moved through the crowd—subtle but unmistakable. conversations softened, laughter dwindled, and heads began to turn toward the far end of the greenhouse. like a tide drawing back from the shore, a collective hush swept over the guests.

the king and queen had arrived.

they moved with practiced grace, every inch of them radiating authority and calm. their regal presence alone would have been enough to command attention, yet the true pull of every gaze wasn’t them—it was the figure walking just a step behind.

zayne.

and caleb’s heart promptly betrayed him, skipping a beat like it had no loyalty left.

he sucked in a sharp breath and muttered low, “don’t say anything.”

sieghart didn’t even turn. arms crossed, chin tilted, he just smirked. “wasn’t gonna. but it’s funny how fast your spine straightened up.”

“shut up.”

“mm-hmm.”

zayne’s outfit was—objectively—modest by royal standards. but it didn’t matter. on him, it looked otherworldly.

a soft, pearlescent white-mint shirt with a silken sheen clung lightly to his frame, sleeves billowing elegantly before gathering at the wrists with delicate, ruffled cuffs. the shirt’s wrap design cinched at the side, parting slightly at the collar to reveal the curve of his collarbone and the faintest hint of his chest. subtle, tasteful, infuriating.

a green and silver sash was draped neatly across his torso, offsetting the pale tones with a regal contrast, complemented by the lace choker around his neck—white, detailed, and somehow not even a little ridiculous on him.

matching light trousers finished the ensemble, paired with polished dark shoes that glinted softly beneath the glass ceiling. silver chainwork draped like spider silk from his shoulders and hips, looping delicately behind him, and small pink jasmines—fresh and bright—were pinned to one shoulder, with a few nestled like an afterthought in his raven-black hair.

every movement shimmered slightly under the greenhouse’s light. it wasn’t fair. not even remotely.

“is he glowing or am i having a stroke?” caleb muttered under his breath.

sieghart flicked a glance sideways, unimpressed and amused. “well, you’re definitely having a crisis. that much is clear.”

“i hate this. i hate everything.”

“you say that, but your eyes haven’t moved once.”

caleb clenched his jaw, breathing slowly out of his nose. “i’m going to throw myself into the fountain.”

“please do. very dramatic. he might even rush over.”

caleb elbowed him. hard.

but his eyes, still, stayed fixed. because zayne, somehow aware of the eyes on him, had turned just slightly—and then caught caleb in his gaze. he smiled.

and caleb? he froze like a statue.

sieghart leaned in, voice casual. “still not gonna tell him?”

“shut. up.”

and the soirée had begun in earnest. the music—graceful and airy—drifted like a breeze through the vast greenhouse, its notes brushing past silk gowns, murmured conversations, clinking glasses. lanterns swayed lightly above, casting golden glows over the waves of green and bloom.

the king and queen moved through the crowd with their son in tow. they stopped at clusters of visiting royals and high-ranking diplomats, exchanging pleasantries and well-rehearsed smiles. zayne kept pace effortlessly—shoulders square, expression pleasant, always listening, always ready with a polished reply or small laugh that made people lean in, drawn to him like moths to a flame.

caleb stood further back, leaning against one of the marble beams partially hidden by a flowering trellis. he had no real duty tonight—not while zayne was surrounded by a dozen watchful eyes and guards. so instead, he laid low… which really just meant standing off to the side while trying not to throttle sieghart.

"have some decorum," caleb hissed as sieghart casually poured wine from the silver decanter into a glass he absolutely did not need.

"i woke up early for this," the older man replied, raising the glass with a shrug, "so i get at least this much for showing effort."

"how quaint," caleb said, tone dry enough to crack stone.

his eyes flicked back to the main floor, and zayne was now completely encircled by admirers. young nobles, ambassadors' children, and eligible heirs. all smiles and fluttering fans and overly interested small talk. their eyes gleamed with ambition or charm, some with both.

caleb didn’t blame them. zayne was, after all, the prince. unmarried. elegant. brilliant. kind.

available.

he swallowed something bitter, jaw tightening as his grip on the glass he wasn’t drinking twitched.

this wasn’t new. it was the same feeling he remembered as a kid—watching from the shadows of the palace courtyard in his training uniform, too green to even stand beside zayne (yet), let alone speak to him during royal events. his job had been to stand guard, to blend into the wall, to be invisible. and even then, he’d watch the people who could go up to zayne. who could touch his sleeve and talk casually with him. laugh with him.

it ate at him then, and it hadn’t changed much now.

he’d just gotten better at pretending it didn’t.

his gaze lingered, watching zayne’s smile—genuine, but strained at the edges. he was still good at being polite, even if you could tell his eyes were already glazing over from yet another question about his future or political alliances.

and despite everything, despite knowing zayne could handle himself, caleb wanted to be the one to get him out of there. to tug his wrist and say, “you don’t owe them all of you.”

maybe yuu was right. maybe he was selfish.

caleb exhaled quietly, pushing the air through his nose in a slow breath.

"y’look like you need this more than me," sieghart said, offering him the wine with a smirk that was just a little too knowing.

caleb blinked. “tempting,” he muttered, not taking it. “but i’m trying to maintain what little dignity i have.”

sieghart chuckled. “what dignity? you’ve been staring at the prince like a kicked puppy for five straight minutes.”

“i have not.”

“you have.”

caleb sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “gods, i really do hate you.”

“only because i’m right.”

the older man clinked his glass gently against caleb’s shoulder in mock sympathy before turning to scan the crowd. caleb just shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall, trying not to look in zayne’s direction again.

failing, of course.

“you gonna say something or just keep sighing at him all night?” sieghart took a casual sip of his wine, swirling it lightly.

caleb crossed his arms tighter. “he’s got enough on his plate.”

“you’re not on his plate, you're in the damn pantry. behind the pickles.”

“thanks for that image.”

he didn’t even get to sip his drink before trouble came walking in silk and perfume.

three women approached him with the elegance of trained nobility—and the unmistakable gleam of intent in their eyes. he stiffened immediately.

“sir caleb,” one of them said, her voice as delicate as the lace fan she coyly raised to her lips, “what a surprise to see you here.”

another chimed in, tilting her head, “we didn’t expect to see you attend, considering last year—and the year before—you were, well… notably absent.”

caleb blinked at them. there was familiarity in their eyes, but not in his memory. not even a spark of recognition. were they someone he’d helped before? civilians he’d rescued in passing? honestly, he had no idea. half his work as a knight blurred into a long stretch of duty, and he wasn’t exactly known for sticking around after making sure someone was safe.

still, he cleared his throat and offered a polite nod. “ah—well, i suppose i happen to be free this time around.”

“oh, that’s wonderful!” the third woman’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in just slightly. “will you be staying until evening?”

“have you already gotten yourself a partner for the dance later?”

“your clothes suit you very well,” one of them added, eyes sweeping over his outfit.

gods.

caleb internally cursed yuu for making him stand out. he should’ve just worn the damn uniform. no one ever flirted with a man in standard-issue armor.

he managed an awkward smile, trying not to visibly recoil at the sudden barrage of compliments and questions. they were circling him like hawks—well-dressed, perfumed hawks. he glanced subtly to the side, desperate for an exit, and spotted—

nothing.

no tall figure in dark blue and gold. no smug, wine-holding bastard with a sharp grin. sieghart was gone.

that traitor.

he should’ve known. the second trouble came with painted nails and fan games, sieghart vanished like smoke.

caleb considered the wine in his hand for half a second, as if it might offer him courage or at least temporary invisibility. then he turned back to the trio of hopeful eyes and floral perfume.

“i, uh… appreciate your kind words,” he started cautiously, trying to sound both polite and disinterested—which was apparently the exact tone that encouraged them more.

one of them laughed sweetly. “don’t be so modest. you’ve become quite the name among the knights, haven’t you?”

“yes,” another said. “and we’ve heard some stories too… quite impressive. they say you were trained directly by the commander?”

he gave a half-nod, half-shrug. “well, he’s... hard to avoid.”

a ripple of laughter. gods, this was awful.

just as he started plotting how to excuse himself—faking a patrol call, faking an injury, faking death, anything—a familiar voice cut in, smooth and warm.

“there you are.”

caleb’s spine straightened involuntarily again.

zayne stood beside him, closer than expected. his tone was calm, but the subtle shift in his posture spoke volumes. he didn’t even look at the ladies when he added, “i’ve been looking for you.”

caleb blinked once. twice. then recovered just enough to say, “oh. uh. your highness.”

zayne turned to the trio with a gentle smile, polite but detached. “i’m afraid i need to borrow him for a while. festival matters.”

the women looked vaguely disappointed, though one tried a last hopeful, “of course, your highness… perhaps later, sir caleb?”

caleb gave the smallest, noncommittal smile and practically fled alongside zayne, only relaxing once they were far enough away from the perfume cloud.

“…you saved me,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

zayne smirked sideways at him. “that’s what knights are supposed to do, aren’t they?”

caleb glanced at him. “you’re not a knight.”

zayne gave him a brief look, amused. “no. but i still know how to rescue someone.”

the hush of the garden was a welcome relief after the hum and brightness of the greenhouse. for a second, it was just the soft rustle of leaves and the crunch of gravel underfoot. the quiet settled between them like something sacred.

then, zayne smiled—gentler this time, almost shy. “come with me?”

caleb blinked. “where to?”

“nowhere in particular,” the prince said with a soft shrug. “i just want to steal you away for a bit.”

caleb didn’t answer right away. there was a flicker of something in zayne’s expression—an openness rarely shown in court or ceremony. something unguarded. and caleb knew, as he stepped forward to walk beside him, that there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.

zayne led them along a stone pathway that twisted behind the flowering vines at the greenhouse’s edge. the air here smelled different—earthier, cooler, tinged with the sweetness of early blooms and the faint trace of damp stone.

caleb looked around, careful. “is this fine? wouldn’t they be looking for you?”

“it’ll be fine,” zayne said easily. “they’ll survive without me. …well, for ten minutes, i think.”

caleb gave a rare, soft smile. “running away from your duties again?”

zayne gave a small huff. “i’ve done my part. there’s no reason for me to linger around once the handshakes are over.”

caleb reached out, brushing his fingers along the petals of a vine-covered wall. “they’ll get worried, though. honestly, your mother will grow more grey hair if you keep disappearing like this.”

zayne laughed quietly. “but you’re here with me, aren’t you?” he looked over at caleb with a playful tilt to his head. “you’ll keep me safe, won’t you?”

caleb’s heart stuttered. he looked away too quickly, eyes fixed on the cobbled stones beneath their feet. “always.”

it was barely louder than a breath, but zayne heard it. his smile faded into something more sincere, something almost reverent. “then i trust you’ll send me back in one piece.”

caleb hesitated. just a second too long.

“…you trust me too much,” he muttered. “what if i kidnapped you then?”

his voice was half a joke, half something else. something heavier.

what if i don’t want to give you back?

what if i want you here, with me, just like this—without eyes on us, without duties, without everyone else clawing for a piece of you?

he didn’t say it. cowardice wrapped itself neatly around his tongue, as always.

but zayne looked at him, and for a fleeting moment, caleb wondered if maybe he didn’t need to say it at all.

“and what would you do,” zayne asked, voice low and almost playful, “if you did?”

caleb opened his mouth. closed it. looked down.

zayne didn’t press. just waited.

“…i’d keep you somewhere quiet,” caleb muttered eventually, voice hoarse, “where you didn’t have to smile for people you don’t like. where you could rest. laugh. be stupid. do whatever you want.”

zayne's expression softened.

“you’re not kidding,” he said.

caleb exhaled and looked away again. “maybe i am.”

“no,” zayne said gently. “you’re not.”

the silence stretched between them again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was full of everything they hadn’t said for years.

and then, in the softest moment, zayne broke it with a quiet laugh.

“…if you’re going to kidnap me, caleb, at least let me pack first.”

caleb blinked, caught between relief and disbelief.

zayne smiled wider. “you’d better make it worth it.”

then he turned back toward the path, a little quieter now, the space between them not quite as wide as before.

"...you're oddly happy for someone who's about to be kidnapped."

zayne let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “if it’s by you, i don’t mind.” his gaze wandered, and he added with a quiet, distant tone, “leaving this place... sounds rather nice.”

there was something heavy beneath his voice. caleb could hear it, feel it even. the kind of weight that clung to the bones. and because he knew zayne—really knew him—he didn’t ask. he didn’t press. he let the silence sit, patient and steady, the kind that said i’m here when you’re ready.

and zayne, true to form, said nothing—until the lake came into view.

the moonlight shimmered over the water, and the surface reflected the subtle glow of lanterns lit behind them. two swans glided quietly over the lake, white feathers catching the light like polished ivory.

that’s when zayne spoke again, softly. “caleb, you…” he hesitated, eyes fixed on the swans. “do you already have plans for the future?”

caleb blinked. “what do you mean?”

zayne drew a breath. “i mean... what you’re going to do next.”

there was a beat before caleb responded, eyes narrowing slightly. “would i not still be your knight?”

zayne shook his head slowly. “you’re not obligated to be my knight for the rest of your life, caleb. you’re still young. you deserve more than just duty.”

caleb frowned, arms folding. “being your knight won’t stop me from experiencing new things in life.”

“i know that.” zayne’s voice was quiet. strained. “but… i’m saying you should be free to choose your life. not just follow mine.”

a tense silence followed, the kind that didn’t feel right for the calm of the garden.

“…you want me to leave,” caleb said. it wasn’t quite a question. not quite a statement either. it just hung there between them.

zayne looked at him, brows drawing inward. “that’s not what i meant.”

“then what?” caleb asked, voice sharper now, more raw. “why bring this up now? you could’ve said something years ago. why now?”

zayne didn’t flinch. he just stared back, steady. “because i realized how much of your childhood i’ve taken away.”

caleb blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone.

zayne continued, looking back toward the lake. “you were so young. you could’ve had a normal life. you could’ve made friends your age, gotten into trouble, chased after stupid dreams, made real memories... fallen in love, maybe. settled down. married someone.”

he smiled—faint and sad. not bitter, but distant.

and caleb knew.

he knew this wasn’t about duty. it wasn’t about age. it wasn’t even about guilt alone.

it was fear.

zayne was afraid of being the reason caleb held himself back. afraid he had become a chain disguised as purpose. a gilded prison caleb never noticed because he’d been inside it too long.

“you think i regret all of this?” caleb finally asked, voice low.

zayne looked back toward the swans gliding across the lake, hands clasped behind him, fingers fidgeting with the silver chains at the back of his belt. “i think you never had the chance to choose something else.”

“that’s not fair.”

“isn’t it?” zayne tilted his head. “you were fourteen.”

caleb clenched his jaw. “i knew what i was doing.”

“you knew how to fight. you knew how to bleed. that doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.” his voice was firm but not angry. if anything, he just sounded tired. regretful.

“and you think that was your fault?”

zayne didn’t answer. that silence was enough.

caleb exhaled, sharp and heavy, turning fully toward him. “zayne, i don’t—what do you want me to say? that i would’ve been happier without meeting you? that i wish i’d never gotten involved in your mess?” he laughed bitterly. “even if i hadn’t become your knight, i still would’ve followed you. even if i wasn’t asked. even if it meant nothing came out of it.”

zayne blinked, startled, but caleb didn’t stop.

“you talk about love and marriage and family like they’re things i missed out on,” he said. “but i got all of that. you gave me all of that.”

a beat passed. the lake wind blew past them gently, rustling the flowers nearby.

caleb’s gaze dropped, his voice quieter now. “yuu is my family. and... you.. you’ve always been more than just someone i protect.”

he looked up again, eyes sharp but vulnerable. “don’t act like my life hasn’t been mine. i chose this. i chose you.”

the wind stirred the water gently, sending small ripples across the lake. the swans drifted apart.

“i’m not trapped, zayne,” caleb said. “not by you. not by this life.”

zayne’s shoulders eased slightly, but the look in his eyes was still uncertain.

“and besides,” caleb added, stepping closer until there was only a breath of space between them, “if i did get married, you’d have to approve of them first.”

that earned a startled laugh from zayne—half surprised, half caught off guard by the warmth in it.

caleb smiled faintly. “so you’re stuck with me either way.”

zayne looked at him for a long moment. then nodded once, more to himself than to caleb.

“…then i’ll stop trying to push you away.”

caleb tilted his head. “you were never going to succeed anyway.”

that made zayne laugh again, softer this time. “no. i guess not.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. it was something lighter now—a quiet understanding. a truce not spoken aloud but felt. they stood by the lake a moment longer, the garden wrapping around them like a secret only they shared.

“but if you're asking,” caleb continued, almost too quietly, “what i plan to do next…”

zayne’s gaze flicked up, locking eyes with him.

“…then i’m asking you,” caleb said, breath catching, “do you want me to stay?”

the question landed like a stone in still water, rippling out endlessly.

zayne’s throat bobbed.

just before he could answer, a drop of water splashed on his forehead, then another slid down the bridge of his nose.

he blinked up. “is that—”

then the rain fell with intent—first a soft pattering, then a sudden rush like the sky had finally let go.

caleb cursed under his breath, grabbed zayne by the wrist without a word, and broke into a sprint. zayne barely had time to register it before he was running alongside him, half laughing, half stumbling on the slippery path.

“where are we—?”

“there,” caleb pointed ahead, breathless.

through the mist of spring rain, the central pavilion came into view. its domed roof stood proud in the heart of the garden, surrounded by a riot of color. vines curled up the columns that held the structure aloft, and clusters of flowers spilled from ornate planters—purples, whites, soft blues, and gentle pinks. the ground beneath was tiled in a checkered pattern of white and pale gray, slick now with rain but still beautiful.

caleb hauled them both under the shelter of the dome just as the rain turned fierce. thunder rumbled distantly, the storm no longer subtle.

zayne ran a hand through his damp hair, jasmine petals clinging stubbornly to his dark strands. “well,” he said between breaths, “i guess the weather wants us to stay a little longer.”

caleb glanced at him, then out toward the rain cascading off the edges of the pavilion roof in thick sheets. the world beyond blurred into watercolor—trees, grass, pathways melting into soft shapes and colors.

but inside the pavilion, the air felt still. suspended.

caleb paced a few steps, trying not to think about the way zayne’s shirt now clung to his skin, how the rain had deepened the color of it to a pale silver-green, how the chains shimmered like strands of moonlight across his chest.

“remind me why you didn’t just stay inside the greenhouse like a normal prince,” caleb muttered.

“because i’m not a normal prince,” zayne replied smoothly, taking a seat on the stone bench lining the inside of the dome.

“clearly.”

zayne smiled up at him, eyes soft. “also, i wanted to be with you. i want you to stay. does that answer your question?”

caleb froze for a beat, then gave him a withering look. “you’re saying that just to make me flustered.”

“is it working?”

caleb turned his back to him, arms crossed, trying to ignore the heat rising up his neck.

outside, the rain poured freely.

inside, under the dome of flowers and pale marble, the quiet between them filled with something unspoken. not tension. not hesitation.

just closeness.

zayne leaned back slightly, watching the petals that had shaken loose from the nearby trees drift in through the open sides of the pavilion, catching on the breeze like slow-moving confetti.

“it’s beautiful here,” he said after a while.

caleb nodded without looking. “yuu’s work. she helped with the garden layout too.”

“i’ll have to thank her,” zayne murmured. “for giving me the perfect place to get kidnapped.”

caleb snorted. “you’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“not at all.”

silence again—comforting this time. the kind that says everything that needs to be said, without saying it.

eventually, zayne spoke again, softer. “do you remember when we were kids? you used to say you hated the rain.”

“i still kind of do,” caleb replied, pulling the hem of his clothes, wringing them absently.

“then why do you look so at peace right now?”

caleb hesitated.

then, without turning around, he said, “maybe because i’m not alone in it.”

zayne didn’t respond right away.

but when caleb finally turned back, he found him already staring—with a look that said i understand. i’ve always understood.

and outside, the rain kept falling, painting the world anew.

the space between them closed slowly, like the end of a breath. caleb reached up with a gentleness that contradicted everything he usually showed the world and brushed a few damp strands of hair away from zayne’s face. his fingers lingered, just for a moment—just enough to make the air between them heavier, softer.

“you’re like a wet cat,” caleb muttered, eyes fixed on him.

zayne blinked, unimpressed. “only you would compare a prince to an animal right to his face. i sometimes wonder why you haven’t been punished for offending a noble yet.”

“because you care about me too much to let me rot in a cell?” caleb offered with a crooked smile.

zayne gave him a flat look. “or maybe because having yuu deal with you herself is enough punishment on its own.”

caleb huffed a quiet laugh, looking like he had more to say. but then the faint sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears—shuffling across stone, muddled voices, the rustling of soaked cloaks—and he pulled back slightly. his eyes shifted toward the garden beyond the pavilion.

servants again, running beneath umbrellas and calling to each other, no doubt searching for someone who had slipped away.

caleb sighed. “i’m getting déjà vu.”

zayne followed his gaze and sighed, too. “looks like my break is over.”

“your highness,” caleb added with teasing reverence.

zayne rolled his eyes but smiled.

a beat passed before zayne asked, almost casually, “will you be at the ball tomorrow night?”

caleb raised an eyebrow. “why? want me to be your dance partner?”

zayne gave him a quick nudge in the chest with the back of his hand. “no. although, dancing would be preferable. i doubt i’ll be able to move at all, considering the number of people i have to talk to.”

“you mean appease.”

“that too,” zayne muttered, sounding far older than he looked.

their eyes met again. a quiet hung between them, unspoken and familiar. the soft drumming of rain against the pavilion roof, the cool breeze, the scent of wet blossoms—they were all background to this singular moment.

caleb tilted his head slightly. “would you like me to steal you away then? before your ears fall off from all their talking?”

zayne chuckled, the sound light and real. “i’d like that.”

“then wait for me at the willow tree.”

zayne’s brow quirked. “next to the lake?”

caleb nodded once. “i’ll come pick you up.”

zayne folded his arms, intrigued. “and how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

but caleb only grinned—sharp and certain. “you’ll see.”

and before zayne could press further, the sound of footsteps grew louder.

it was time.

zayne glanced back toward the approaching figures, then toward caleb once more. “then i’ll wait.”

“don’t stand me up, your highness,” caleb warned with mock sternness.

zayne gave him one last look. “i wouldn’t dare.”

then, with a reluctant sigh and a final shared glance, zayne turned and stepped out from under the pavilion, back into the path, back into the rain—and back to the world that kept pulling him away.

caleb watched until his silhouette blurred into the mist, heart thudding a little too loudly for his liking.

tomorrow night, then.

~~~

the ballroom gleamed under the soft golden morning light that filtered through the tall arched windows. sunbeams danced along the polished floors, catching on crystal chandeliers and floral garlands that curled like lazy vines across the walls and doorways. every inch of the space whispered of opulence and celebration, dressed in soft hues of spring—lavenders, pale golds, whites, and blush pinks.

zayne strolled through it quietly, hands clasped behind his back in the most princely posture he could muster at this hour. his eyes drifted to the dessert table, where tiers of delicate confections were already arranged—some still being meticulously positioned by the pastry staff. his fingers twitched, tempted by a row of rose-shaped macarons.

just as he leaned in a little too close—

"those are for tonight, your highness."

the familiar voice made him flinch back like a guilty child. he turned to find yuu grinning at him, arms crossed, looking far too smug for this early in the day.

“i was just taking a look,” zayne said, straightening his shoulders with faux dignity.

“with your eyes or your mouth?” she quipped.

he raised an eyebrow but couldn’t hide the corner of his mouth twitching. clever as ever.

to save face, he quickly changed the subject. “how are your flowers coming along?”

he stepped away from the dessert table and began to walk the perimeter of the room. yuu fell in beside him with practiced ease, matching his pace.

“they’re thriving, actually,” she said, glancing at a newly-arrived bouquet resting on a pedestal. “the florists didn’t think the moon blossoms would hold up, but i proved them wrong.”

zayne followed her gaze. the arrangement was indeed stunning—soft ivory blooms with a faint glimmer to them, nestled among trailing greenery and bursts of soft mauve. they looked like something out of a dream.

“you never miss,” he said sincerely.

“i don’t try to,” she replied, then added more dryly, “especially when a thousand noble eyes are going to judge every petal tonight.”

zayne chuckled. “don’t worry, they’ll be too focused on judging me.”

yuu scoffed. “that’s true. but in that case, you better make sure your hair isn’t trying to run in five directions by this evening.”

zayne gave her a mock offended look, one hand going up instinctively to pat his already-neatly-tamed hair. “you wound me.”

“i’m being kind,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “you have an image to maintain.”

zayne rolled his eyes, but he appreciated her presence more than he said aloud. yuu’s banter was grounding—reminding him that despite the glitz and expectation, some people around him still treated him like a person first. besides caleb, of course.

they paused near the stage where musicians were testing their instruments. yuu glanced sideways at him.

“looking forward to tonight?”

zayne took a breath, eyes lingering on the grand space that would soon be packed with faces. “ask me again when it’s over.”

yuu smiled. “well, make sure you don’t disappear on me mid-ball.”

he hesitated. “...i might. just for a little while.”

she narrowed her eyes. “caleb?”

he didn’t answer. but the way his gaze drifted toward the tall windows facing the gardens said enough.

yuu smirked to herself. “of course.”

“don’t start,” he warned lightly.

“oh, i won’t. but i’ll be expecting good gossip tomorrow morning.”

zayne gave a dramatic sigh. “you and sieghart would get along far too well.”

yuu beamed. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

they kept walking, the ballroom echoing with laughter, light, and something else—something quieter and closer to anticipation.

“zayne, dear,” came the familiar voice—graceful, warm, and tinged with that particular kind of elegance that made people fall silent out of respect.

zayne turned toward it immediately, and so did everyone else. conversations lulled. guests bowed. servants paused in their tasks. the queen approached with the soft rustle of her silk gown, two maids trailing nervously behind her, their hands twitching as if ready to catch her at any moment.

zayne’s brow knit. “mother? you shouldn’t be walking right now.”

she waved him off with a delicate hand, as if the sprain she suffered last night were no more than a minor inconvenience. “oh, it’s just a little twist. hardly anything worth fussing over.”

but her maids didn’t share that confidence—the way they hovered, visibly on edge, spoke volumes. one of them even subtly reached forward as the queen shifted her weight, only to be shot a quick look of gentle dismissal from the queen that froze her mid-step.

zayne, already moving to intercept, stepped forward and offered his arm. “at least let me help you. if you fall in front of all these people, i’ll never hear the end of it.”

the queen smiled and took his arm, graceful even in injury. “is that your concern, zayne? reputation over your poor mother’s well-being?”

“just trying to preserve both,” he murmured dryly, guiding her gently away from the dessert table toward one of the ornate lounge chairs near the edge of the ballroom.

“what brings you here? was there something you needed?” he asked more quietly as they walked, his voice softening.

“i did,” she said, her gaze sweeping the room with practiced poise. “i wanted to speak with you before the evening. and perhaps a moment away from your father’s endless debating with lord halstrem about border grain tariffs.”

zayne snorted. “a thrilling topic.”

“i would rather limp through five ballrooms than hear another word about it.” she smiled faintly. “also, your uncle sent word again—he’s bringing that niece of his to the ball.”

zayne groaned under his breath. “not another ‘chance introduction.’”

“mmm. he’s persistent,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“he’s meddling.”

“true. but well-meaning.”

zayne helped her settle into the chair with great care, ignoring her soft protests. she wasn’t used to being fussed over—not in public, not by her son—but zayne did it anyway, with steady hands and quiet care.  as he straightened, he met her gaze again.

“anything else?”

the queen looked at him for a moment—longer than necessary. she tilted her head slightly, studying his face the way only a mother could, as if she were trying to see past the practiced posture and the princely smile. like she saw something else there, flickering under the surface.

“your eyes have been wandering today,” she said softly.

zayne stilled, expression unreadable.

“i’ve seen where they drift,” she continued, voice still warm, not accusatory. “and who they linger on.”

a beat passed.

zayne exhaled slowly, his hands folding behind his back again. “you disapprove?”

she arched a brow. “did i say that?”

“…no.”

she reached out and took his hand—lightly, not as a queen, but as his mother.

“i only wanted to say,” she said gently, “that sometimes love doesn’t ask permission from status or bloodlines. and it certainly doesn't wait forever.”

zayne’s throat tightened. he said nothing.

the queen’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, and her voice softened even more. “you’ve given this kingdom everything. you’ve given us everything. you deserve something for yourself too.”

another silence.

then zayne managed a small, grateful smile. “you always know.”

“of course i do,” she sniffed, releasing his hand and adjusting her shawl with practiced flair. “i’m your mother. just… don’t run off too far tonight. i know the crowd is exhausting, but there are people who came a long way to see you. to speak with you.”

zayne lowered his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “i know.”

“and,” she added, her tone less commanding now and more maternal, “if you do steal away… don’t be gone too long. we’ll always need you back.”

he met her eyes again, this time with something more guarded in his expression. “of course.”

the queen gave his hand a soft pat and leaned back. “go on then. i’ve embarrassed you enough for one morning.”

he managed a smile. “not yet. but you’re getting close.”

she laughed, and the sound was like wind chimes—elegant, fleeting. as zayne turned to step away, her voice followed him once more, quieter this time:

“and zayne… i’m glad you’re smiling again. it suits you.”

he paused, lips parting slightly. but when he turned to respond, she had already shifted her attention to one of her maids, dismissing the moment as if it never happened.

still, he lingered for half a second before walking away—her words sitting warm in his chest.

~~~

the spring ball had officially begun.

music filled the grand ballroom—a graceful ensemble of strings and wind instruments echoing beneath the high-vaulted ceiling. crystal chandeliers gleamed overhead, casting soft, golden light across polished marble floors. guests in their finest attire twirled in the center of the room or mingled with glasses of wine and soft laughter. everything was in bloom: floral garlands spiraled around the columns, petals floated in shallow fountains, and the scent of roses, peonies, and jasmine hung in the air.

and in the middle of it all, zayne stood like a statue of grace and diplomacy.

hours had passed—at least it felt like hours. he had smiled until his cheeks ached, nodded until his neck stiffened, and answered the same polite questions more times than he could count. courtiers, nobles, foreign dignitaries—each one approached with careful charm, trying to gain favor, praise, or simply attention.

there was no room for escape tonight. not easily, anyway.

his outfit, while stunning, didn’t help with how much he stood out. a ceremonial piece chosen by his mother’s hand.

a tailored high-collared jacket in pale ivory silk, fitted perfectly to his frame, with subtle mint green embroidery of vines and florals running along the sleeves and down the back. the threads shimmered when they caught the light.

beneath it, he wore a soft satin tunic with a delicate open neckline, fastened with a silver clasp shaped like a blooming lily. his pants matched the jacket, straight-cut and pressed, tucked neatly into soft, polished gray leather boots that rose just below the knee.

around his waist: a thin silver belt-chain, decorative rather than functional, with charms shaped like tiny leaves and flowers. draped across his shoulders was a lightweight mint-green half-cape, fastened with a silver chain at the collarbone, embroidered with white and pink threads at the hem to mimic scattered blossoms.

his hair was neatly styled, swept back with a few soft strands left loose, and tucked into it were small white and blush-pink flowers, a nod to the theme of the festival. a white gold ring on his left hand—the family crest—and a lace cuff just barely visible at his wrist, peeking out when he lifted his glass.

he looked regal. composed. unapproachable, almost.

but even with all the elegance draped on him, the stiffness in his jaw, the heaviness in his eyes—it was obvious zayne was tired.

and still, he smiled.

still, he nodded.

and still, he glanced occasionally toward the grand archway, toward the side corridors and curtained windows, as if hoping—just hoping—that a shadow might move. that someone might come for him.

that someone might steal him away.

just before zayne could plan his boldest move yet—perhaps slip past the line of foreign emissaries and vanish through the nearest curtain—sieghart’s voice cut through the lull behind him.

“you look like you’re going to war, your highness.”

zayne didn't turn right away. he didn’t have to—sieghart’s presence was as unmistakable as ever, wine in hand, posture too relaxed for someone technically on duty.

“…it’s nothing,” zayne replied, keeping his voice even.

“really?” sieghart stepped up beside him with the ghost of a grin. “nothing to do with a certain missing knight of mine?”

zayne inhaled slowly through his nose, exhaled just as slowly. “not… particularly.”

sieghart hummed into his wineglass, as if deeply considering the lie. “ah, young love…” he murmured.

zayne turned his head sharply. “can you not?” he muttered, ears visibly pink now. “please leave your teasing to your student, not your prince.”

“now, where’s the fun in that?” sieghart replied with a wink, completely unbothered. “besides, caleb’s too easy to fluster. you at least try to hide it. it’s far more entertaining.”

zayne gave him a flat look. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here i am. still invited to royal functions.”

“much to my eternal regret.”

sieghart clinked his glass lightly against zayne’s. “your royal highness, allow me to give you one piece of unsolicited advice.”

“i don’t want it.”

“i’ll give it anyway,” he said, grinning. “if you want to be stolen away tonight… maybe stop waiting to be the one taken. be the thief instead.”

zayne blinked, caught off-guard.

“life’s short,” sieghart added with a shrug. “even for princes. if you want something, go after it. before someone else does.”

and with that, he raised his glass again, with all the grace of a man who had clearly done his part in stirring up trouble.

zayne stood there, staring after him for a long beat, heart ticking just a little faster now.

because caleb had promised.

and the willow tree by the lake wasn’t that far.

sieghart leaned in just slightly, voice dropping. “and lucky for you, i like him too much to let him wait long. go on—slip away. i’ll run interference for five minutes.”

zayne hesitated. “what if someone stops me?”

“i’ll lie.” sieghart smiled without blinking. “convincingly.”

zayne opened his mouth to reply, but sieghart raised a hand to stop him.

“no excuses. just go.” he leaned in, lowering his voice, “my dear student has likely been pacing around that willow tree for fifteen minutes now. if you make him wait longer, he might actually combust.”

zayne’s expression cracked into a reluctant smile. “you’re awfully helpful tonight.”

sieghart winked. “i have my moments. now, if anyone asks, i’ll tell them you’re—horribly ill, terribly offended, or swept up in urgent princely matters. whichever lie you prefer.”

“try not to be dramatic.”

“too late.”

zayne turned to go, weaving casually through the crowd, doing his best to look like he wasn’t making a quiet escape.

but of course, slipping away from the center of a royal ball was easier said than done.

zayne had barely made it halfway across the ballroom, weaving carefully past conversation circles and wine trays, when a sharp voice caught him mid-step.

“your highness!”

he flinched inwardly, turning slowly to find a noblewoman approaching with her son in tow—both clearly intending to speak with him. he readied himself for pleasantries, already planning his exit strategy.

but before the first word could be exchanged, a blur of rose-pink and silver came between them.

“oh! pardon me—so sorry,” yuu said with theatrical grace, cutting between them with a curtsy that made the noblewoman instinctively step back. “your highness, may i borrow you for a moment? urgent matter.”

zayne blinked. “urgent?”

“very urgent,” she said, eyes twinkling as she grabbed his hand like they were about to sprint.

“excuse us.”

she pulled him toward the garden corridor without waiting for permission.

only when they turned the corner, out of sight, did she slow down.

zayne looked at her. “you didn’t even try to be subtle.”

yuu winked. “you looked like you were about to chew glass just to get out of there.”

“i had it handled,” he insisted.

“mhm. well, now you’re handled.” she nudged him forward. “go on. the tree’s still there. your knight’s waiting.”

zayne smiled—helpless, grateful, a little embarrassed. “you’re the best.”

“i know,” she said, already turning back. “now go before someone else asks you to marry their son.”

he didn’t need to be told twice.

with one last look over his shoulder, zayne slipped through the archway, past the last guard post, and into the evening air—heart racing, steps light.

somewhere near the lake, beneath the willow tree, someone was waiting for him.

and for once, no one was stopping him from going exactly where he wanted to be.

zayne took the most discreet path he could manage, moving through hedges and under vine-covered trellises until the air shifted—quieter here, softer, touched with the scent of damp earth and fresh bloom.

the lake shimmered in the hush of almost-sunset. the last rays of golden light filtered through the long, draping branches of the willow trees that lined the shore. their leafy tendrils hung like curtains, swaying gently in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the water.

lotus blossoms and pale water lilies floated serenely on the surface, undisturbed.

zayne leaned against the willow, letting the quiet settle in his chest. or a few moments, he simply watched the lake. the reflections of the sky, the trees, and the pale, blooming lotus flowers gave the surface an ethereal glow.

he tilted his head, eyeing his own reflection. his fingers brushed at the petals still tucked in his hair. and he almost laughed.

here he was—zayne li, crown prince of the kingdom—hiding by a lake like a lovestruck boy, heart hammering not from royal duties or court expectations, but from the ache of waiting for one person.

then the surface rippled.

he blinked, looked up.

and saw the boat.

a wooden vessel, low and curved, gliding smoothly across the water. it was filled with blooms—soft spring shades of blue, lavender, pale pinks and whites. they lined the rim and pooled at the edges like a living bouquet. a few petals drifted onto the water’s surface as it moved.

and standing at the center of it, steering gently with a pole through the shallow parts of the lake, was caleb.

zayne could barely see him at first—his view half-obscured by willow leaves, like nature conspired to draw out the reveal. he lifted a hand, brushed aside the soft green curtain, and the breath left his lungs.

caleb smiled up at him.

he was dressed in the outfit zayne had arranged for him earlier in the week—something he wasn’t sure caleb would actually agree to wear.

but he had. and he wore it far too well.

the fitted jacket was a deep forest green, with subtle gold-threaded embroidery along the collar and cuffs—patterns of leaves and vines that shimmered when the light hit. underneath was a soft, high-collared ivory tunic with delicate pleating down the front and buttons of polished stone. the tunic was tucked neatly into black tailored trousers, tucked slightly into soft leather boots dyed dark olive, their cuffs turned down.

a draped sash of muted gold-green silk wrapped from his left shoulder to his hip, fastened with a brooch that resembled a blooming lily—an emblem of spring itself.

and around his neck, just barely peeking from beneath the tunic’s collar, was the thin silver chain (aha) zayne had given him long ago. still there. still worn.

zayne didn’t say anything at first. he couldn’t.

the boat drifted gently into place, brushing against the edge of the dock hidden beneath the willow’s curtain. the water lapped softly, and caleb steadied it with one hand on the pole, the other now extended—open and sure, palm turned upward.

“well?” he called softly. “do i pass?”

zayne let out a quiet breath—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“you always did.”

zayne stood just a little ways up the slope, separated from the water by a small drop of grass and stone. the distance wasn’t far enough for a walkway, but just far enough to make hesitation feel justified.

“come on,” caleb called, tilting his head. “i’ll catch you.”

zayne raised a brow, glancing down at the space between them, then back at caleb’s outstretched arms.

“you’re sure?” he asked.

“no,” caleb replied, “but i’ve got a good track record of not dropping you so far.”

zayne gave him a dry look.

“i’m wearing three layers of silk and a decorative cloak. if i fall in—”

“you’ll still look good,” caleb cut in, grinning. “just wetter.”

zayne exhaled through a half-laugh and took a few slow steps back, then looked toward caleb again—waiting, steady, arms open like he meant it.

“you’re ridiculous,” zayne muttered, then added under his breath, “...don’t let me drown.”

with one running step and a breathless jump, zayne pushed off the grass.

the moment suspended.

air, then space, then gravity.

caleb moved fast—one step back, one foot braced—and caught him in full. arms around his waist, the boat rocking slightly but holding firm. zayne collided into him with a soft thud and an ungraceful laugh, hands instinctively grabbing onto caleb’s shoulders.

they stayed like that, for a second longer than needed. close. breathing the same air. the sound of the lake, the trees, the distant music of the ball—everything muffled by the canopy of leaves.

“i told you i’d catch you,” caleb said, voice lower now, but sure.

zayne looked up at him, and for a moment, his smile softened into something quieter. “yeah,” he murmured. “you always do.”

caleb didn’t move. not right away.

but then, still holding him, he stepped back gently into the boat, letting zayne’s weight settle safely. he let go only when he had to, only once zayne was standing on his own.

zayne brushed back the hair that had fallen into his face during the jump, cheeks slightly flushed.

“...that could’ve gone horribly.”

“would’ve been memorable either way,” caleb said with a shrug, reaching again for the pole. “but i prefer this ending.”

zayne looked at him, lips twitching upward.

“where are we going, anyway?”

caleb only smiled again, mysterious this time. “you’ll see.”

and with a gentle push, the boat began gliding again—away from the shore, away from the palace, slipping deeper into the lake’s curve, hidden beneath the veil of spring.

the boat drifted lazily in the middle of the lake, surrounded by floating lotus flowers and the hanging curtain of willow leaves. the sun was beginning its descent, casting the water in warm gold and soft pinks, like everything around them was dipped in honeyed light.

they eventually sat side by side, tucked comfortably near the center of the little flower-laden boat. caleb had kicked off his shoes, socks rolled down casually, one foot brushing the surface of the water. zayne, still regal even in a relaxed pose, sat with one leg tucked, the other dangling off the side as he stared into the rippling reflections.

between them was a small cloth spread out, and atop it—a modest arrangement of macarons, clearly not palace-grade.

“you made these,” zayne said, half-smiling as he plucked a slightly cracked mint-green one with uneven filling. he turned it over in his fingers, the shape imperfect, but the effort obvious. “this one looks like it fought for its life.”

caleb gave a short laugh, plucking a lavender one. “yuu said i should bring something sweet. and since you like these stupid things—” he took a bite—“i figured i’d try.”

zayne raised a brow, amused. “you don’t like macarons?”

“i like food,” caleb said. “macarons are air with an ego. they taste like biting into a mood.”

zayne gave a snort, trying not to laugh mid-bite. he savored the one he chose, and his eyes narrowed in thought. “lemon with… is this basil?”

caleb leaned back on one hand, playing it cool. “maybe,” he said with a shrug. “or maybe it’s carrots.”

zayne paused, squinting at him suspiciously—then smacked his arm without hesitation.

“ow!” caleb laughed, flinching slightly. “that’s abuse!”

“you deserve worse,” zayne muttered, but he was smiling. “for ruining macarons with carrots.”

“it’s not carrots,” caleb said with a grin. “i followed a recipe. kind of. basil was intentional. i thought it’d go well with the lemon.”

zayne hummed in agreement, finishing the macaron and licking the edge of his thumb where some filling had clung. “it’s actually really good,” he said, softer now. “rough around the edges, but... i like that.”

caleb looked away quickly, suddenly aware of how warm his ears were. “i’m not a royal chef. you get what you get.”

“you don’t give yourself enough credit,” zayne said, voice quiet again. “you’re good at more things than you realize.”

the compliment hung between them, unassuming but heavy. caleb didn’t know how to answer that, so instead he leaned back and stole another cookie—biting into it without grace.

zayne watched him, fondness simmering behind his eyes, then turned his gaze to the water.

the silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. it was that kind of rare quiet where both people didn’t feel the need to fill space. the birds somewhere in the trees sang lazily, and the boat gently rocked in time with the breeze.

he passed him another macaron, and their fingers touched briefly as zayne took it. small things, quiet things—soft edges to the storm they always danced around.

zayne leaned his head back, staring up at the filtered light between branches. “we used to talk about leaving the palace together. remember that?”

caleb nodded, gaze on the water. “you wanted to live in a quiet little cottage in the forest and write poetry.”

“you wanted a forge,” zayne smiled. “so you could make your own sword and show everyone you didn’t need royal blacksmiths.”

caleb chuckled. “i was insufferable.”

“you still are.”

he got elbowed for that, but gently. they both smiled.

in that moment, the boat drifting slowly on the lake, the world felt far away. just two souls, leaning closer without even meaning to, surrounded by water and flowers and everything they never said out loud.

neither of them felt the need to return just yet.

~~~

they hadn’t noticed how the sky had changed, how much time had passed.

at first it was just a slight dimming—colors softening, turning cool. but the pale lavender hues had deepened, fading into a dusky navy that settled across the lake like a silk shawl. the trees now stood in silhouette, the water reflecting only glints of the last traces of gold.

the empty macaron box lay tilted in the corner of the boat, and caleb stretched his arms behind his head, lounging with ease. zayne, sitting cross-legged across from him, frowned slightly as he glanced around.

“are you sure this is safe?” he asked, eyeing the gentle darkness now creeping in around them. “it’s getting late.”

“you afraid now?” caleb said, the teasing already in his tone.

zayne shot him a look. “i’m not exactly interested in being swallowed alive by the lake.”

“relax.” caleb waved a hand dismissively. “there’s nothing in here... well, except one thing.”

zayne narrowed his eyes. “what.”

caleb’s grin widened. “one way to find out.”

and then, with barely concealed glee, he shifted his weight, making the boat sway with a deliberate rock.

zayne lurched. “caleb—stop that!”

but caleb kept going, laughing now, and when zayne scrambled forward to hold him still, the whole boat tipped just enough to throw them into a tangle of limbs. what started as an attempt to wrestle control turned quickly into a ridiculous playfight.

“let go—!”

“you started it—!”

zayne ended up half-sprawled across caleb’s chest, trying to pin him with his elbow. caleb was breathless with laughter, his hands coming up to pinch zayne’s cheeks, which only made the prince retaliate in kind.

“you’re so—infuriating!” zayne growled, fingers digging into his face.

“and you’re heavy!” caleb wheezed, grabbing at zayne’s waist in defense.

“i’m not heavy!”

“you’re heavier when you’re royal.”

then—something small and glowing passed by zayne’s cheek.

he froze mid-pinch.

a flicker. bright yellow-green. a floating ember, soft and slow.

zayne looked up, and the world stilled.

dozens of them—no, hundreds—had emerged from the trees.

fireflies.

drifting between the hanging willow leaves, flickering gently like falling stars caught in the branches. the boat rocked lightly beneath them, but neither moved. the playful mood melted into quiet awe, and for a long moment, all either of them could do was watch.

the glow of the fireflies shimmered on the water’s surface, scattered like tiny lanterns.

zayne sat up slowly, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. he didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. his eyes reflected the glow, wide and quiet.

“i told you there was something,” caleb murmured from below, voice lower now, gentler.

zayne glanced down at him, still lying amidst the pillows with an arm tucked behind his head, calm and content as ever. a few fireflies danced over his shoulder. in the warm flickering light, caleb looked... different. softer.

“did you plan this?” zayne asked.

caleb didn’t answer right away. he just stared up through the willow branches as the fireflies danced between them.

“maybe,” he said. “or maybe they just knew you were here.”

zayne didn’t know what to say to that. his heart thudded a little too loudly.

so instead, he leaned back again—this time not to tackle, not to tease—just to be closer. caleb shifted to make space, and zayne laid down beside him, their shoulders brushing, the occasional firefly drifting past their faces.

for the first time in a while, zayne didn’t feel like a prince.

he felt like a person. one small, beating thing beneath the night sky, next to someone who made the world feel quiet.

the boat drifted slowly, carried by the lake’s gentle current. the water lapped softly against the wooden hull, just enough to remind them of its presence. neither of them spoke. there was no need.

zayne smiled faintly, eyes tracing the path of a willow’s drooping branches as they brushed softly along his arm. he raised a hand, fingers grazing the delicate green tendrils—and then, with almost impossible grace, a firefly settled lightly on his fingertip. its glow pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.

“caleb, look—” zayne turned to show him, eyes alight.

but he stopped, then laughed—quiet, breathy.

caleb frowned, instinctively checking his tunic. “what?”

zayne tried to stifle his grin but failed entirely. “nothing. it’s just that...”

“what?” caleb leaned over to peer at himself in the reflection, only to freeze at the sight. his hair—already tousled by the wind and playfighting—was glowing in patches. fireflies had taken a liking to him. at least six clung lazily to his dark strands, blinking slowly like tiny lanterns tangled in ivy.

zayne leaned over, stifling more laughter. “you’re glowing.”

“i’m pleased to see that i’m entertaining you, your highness,” caleb muttered dryly, but didn’t move to shake them off.

“i believe i should be the one to call you that, hm?” zayne leaned in and reached out, tousling his hair gently. “firefly prince.”

caleb gave a long-suffering sigh but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “i’m filing for treason.”

“please do. i’ll have the court artist sketch you like this for the hearing.”

with a quiet snort, caleb turned his attention to the water, where a soft-petaled lotus flower was drifting by. he leaned over slightly, arm dipping just enough to pluck it from the surface.

“then allow this humble prince,” he said, straightening with a flourish, “to gift this lovely young maiden a flower.”

zayne looked affronted. “maiden?”

“you heard me.”

“do i look like a maiden to you?”

caleb arched a brow and gestured elegantly. “you look quite radiant tonight.”

zayne snorted but didn’t argue. instead, he extended his hand expectantly. “charmed,” he said with mock grace.

but when he reached for the flower, caleb pulled it back slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

zayne blinked. “what now?”

“allow me,” caleb said again, quieter this time.

zayne paused—and then, slowly, he understood.

with a quiet chuckle and a shake of his head, he tilted his head just right and closed his eyes, face turned slightly toward the moonlit air. the subtle gesture—an offering of trust.

caleb held still for a heartbeat. then, gently, he leaned in. the boat rocked faintly under their shifting weight. with careful fingers, he tucked the lotus behind zayne’s ear, adjusting the stem so it sat snug against the line of his jaw.

he meant to pull back after that.

but zayne opened his eyes.

and caleb didn’t move.

their faces were close. too close. caleb could count every glimmer of reflected light in the other’s irises, every breath shared between them. zayne didn’t smile—not fully—but his lips curled, slow and deliberate.

“satisfied?” he whispered.

caleb swallowed.

“no,” he said, so softly it might’ve been mistaken for the wind.

then, just for a moment, nothing else mattered—no ball, no people waiting for them. just the fireflies, the lake, the warmth of shared space.

and the thin line between them, trembling with every breath.

when caleb leaned in—just a little—there was no rush in the motion, no hunger or haste. just closeness. just care. their breath mingled in the narrowing space between them, warm against the cool night. he paused there, barely an inch apart. a single breath away.

it wasn’t hesitation, not really. it was permission.

if zayne wanted to move, to pull away, to laugh it off—he could. caleb left that door open.

but zayne didn’t flinch. didn’t move.

he only looked at him.

and in his eyes—lit by the fireflies weaving their quiet dance above them—was something steady. unflinching. a quiet kind of waiting.

so caleb closed the distance.

it wasn’t earth-shaking. it wasn’t dramatic. there were no sparks flying, no music swelling.

it was soft.

a light press. barely there. more a whisper than a kiss. a breath caught between them, a heartbeat made flesh.

zayne’s hands curled against caleb’s chest, fingers bunching into the fabric like he was grounding himself. caleb’s hand slid gently to the back of zayne’s head, fingers brushing into his hair behind his ear, cradling him like something precious. his other hand settled instinctively on zayne’s thigh, not claiming, just holding. anchoring.

the boat swayed slightly beneath them, but neither of them cared.

there was only the warmth of lips meeting lips. the scent of rain and earth and crushed petals lingering in the night air. the slow, reverent beat of two hearts learning to breathe together in silence.

zayne didn’t pull away.

and caleb could’ve stayed like that forever. with the night holding them gently, and the world outside the lake forgotten.

there was no crown, no duty, no names.

just zayne, tasting faintly of basil and lemon, warm and real beneath his hands.

and for once, caleb let himself have this.

just this.

just him.

his fingers found zayne’s without thinking—just a quiet, absent gesture, like his hands were acting on instinct before his mind caught up. his touch was soft, barely there, a brushing contact that said i’m here without needing words.

but as his hand slipped lower, as his fingers curled gently around zayne’s wrist, the fine fabric of the sleeve shifted. slid down.

just a few inches. that was all it took.

and then he saw it.

the scars.

thin. faint in some places, harsher in others. lines that told stories caleb didn’t want to hear. stories he had refused to look at for too long. of his failure, his shortcomings.

something about seeing them now—beneath soft firefly light, in the afterglow of a kiss—caught him off guard.

and his body betrayed him. again.

he flinched.

just barely. a twitch of his fingers, a stiff inhale—so small, no one else might’ve noticed. but zayne did.

and caleb did.

because flinching meant instinct. it meant something in him recoiled.

and with it, the guilt came rushing in—flooding through his chest like ice water, cold and biting. he couldn’t breathe.

his eyes dropped, shame washing over him in waves. those thoughts that haunted for years came spiraling back again. he should have protected him better. he should have done something. something more.

zayne didn’t move.

didn’t tug his arm back. didn’t cover the scars. he just stayed. close. still. watching.

not accusing.

not soothing.

just… waiting.

and it felt worse, somehow. the understanding in his silence. the absence of judgment.

like a priest before the altar, caleb felt the weight of his own cowardice.

and so, like a sinner, he spoke.

his voice was low. rough. "i still see it."

zayne blinked, but said nothing.

caleb swallowed hard, eyes still averted. "the warehouse. the ropes. your face." a pause. “i can’t unsee it. i can’t forget it. i think i hate myself more now because i let it happen. because every time i look at you, i remember—”

his voice cracked.

he forced it back down.

“i should’ve been there sooner,” caleb said quietly, voice strained. “i shouldn’t have left you alone. i—”

"caleb."

zayne’s voice was quiet but firm. a single word, enough to stop him mid-spiral.

caleb dared to meet his eyes.

and zayne, ever patient, ever composed, met his gaze with a calm so steady it felt like a balm.

"i lived,” he said. “i got out.”

“because i lost control—”

“no. because you found me.” zayne reached out this time, gently—deliberately—taking caleb’s hand and placing it back over his wrist, over the scars. “and because you didn’t stop. because you were there.”

caleb’s throat tightened.

“these?” zayne glanced down at the marks. “these are part of my story. not yours to carry like a punishment. you don’t get to bleed over them more than i already have.”

silence stretched between them. but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

it was grounding.

caleb squeezed his eyes shut. then opened them again, his hand still resting over zayne’s wrist, gentler now. reverent.

“…i'm sorry,” he said again. softer this time. less self-hate. more truth.

zayne nodded once. “i know.”

his fingers moved then—just a shift. not to pull away. but to reach.

he turned his wrist gently in caleb’s grip, so their palms could meet, fingers slotting into place like a quiet reassurance. like forgiveness already given. it always has been.

caleb looked up.

zayne’s expression didn’t hold pity. or pain.

just… warmth. steady, quiet warmth. the kind that says i know. the kind that says i’m still here.

and caleb let out a shaky breath.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again.

zayne smiled, small and tired but sincere.

“i know.”

“you came back for me. you always did.”

the fireflies floated like golden embers, blinking gently in the night air. the willow leaves whispered above, dancing in the breeze like the soft breath of the world holding itself still just for them. in that moment—boat adrift, hearts bare—there was nothing but the quiet, and the two of them wrapped in it.

“i never blamed you,” zayne said.

his voice was steady. gentle. like truth, not comfort. like something that had always been there, even when caleb had refused to believe it.

and with those words, caleb’s grip around zayne’s hand loosened. his shoulders slumped. and something deep inside—something knotted up over years of guilt, of silence, of buried shame—finally began to uncoil.

“how could you even still say that?” he whispered, barely able to push the words past his throat. his gaze dropped again to zayne’s arms. to the faded lines that still told stories no prince should’ve had to carry. “after all that’s happened to you… just because i was a stupid kid—”

“you’re not,” zayne cut in softly, cupping his face now. his hand was warm, grounding. “you were a kid, yes. and yet…” he smiled, small and sincere, eyes shining in the low light. “you still came back. as helpless as you were. a boy with nothing but bruised fists and a bruised heart.”

caleb’s breath caught. he looked like he might argue—like guilt had a thousand more things to say—but all that came out was a trembling exhale. his eyes stung.

then, slowly, almost reverently, he reached for zayne’s wrist again. and this time, he didn’t let go.

he brought it closer. pressed it gently to his cheek. closed his eyes.

then, with care—like it was something sacred—he tilted his head forward and kissed the scarred skin.

once. twice. a third time.

soft. lingering.

a vow without words.

zayne didn’t pull away. he didn’t speak. just watched him, eyes soft, the lines at the corners drawn with something like love.

each kiss was quiet. a confession. a prayer.

caleb moved from one scar to the next, each press of his lips soft and deliberate. as if his mouth could rewrite history. as if it could say, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—over and over again until the ache finally eased.

he moved to the other arm, reverent in silence, as though the prince’s wounds were sacred texts and he was learning how to read them with his lips. every mark, every healed-over pain, met with tenderness he couldn’t voice aloud.

when he finally stopped, he pulled back just enough to look at zayne again.

and zayne… was still looking at him.

not with pity. not with hesitation. but with a softness that cracked something deeper inside caleb—something he didn’t even realize he’d been shielding.

a gentleness he didn’t think he deserved.

his throat worked as he swallowed hard. then, without a word, he leaned forward and rested his head against zayne’s shoulder. seeking shelter. offering surrender.

and zayne, like it was the most natural thing in the world, lifted his arms and wrapped them around him.

his embrace was warm, grounding. a harbor for a storm that had been raging far too long.

caleb breathed in.

inhale—floral notes, the faint scent of old parchment and steel, of zayne himself.

exhale—and with it, a sliver of the guilt he’d carried for so many years slipped free.

they sat like that, held and holding, while the fireflies danced around them, and the boat drifted lazily beneath the willow canopy—no longer aimless, but gently, inevitably, homebound.

and with those words still hanging between them—soft and sacred—caleb leaned down.

this time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant or gentle. it wasn’t a question.

it was an answer.

slow and deep, it poured from him like something long held back, something dammed for years. it was the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission anymore, because permission had already been given—in looks, in words, in the quiet ache of every shared memory.

zayne met him halfway, hands sliding up to caleb’s jaw, fingers curling at the nape of his neck. his lips parted easily, welcomingly, like he had been waiting too. like he had dreamed of this. and maybe he had.

they kissed and kissed, again and again, drawn in like tides to shore. their heads tilted, foreheads brushing, noses bumping—each connection deeper, messier, more desperate than the last.

zayne caught caleb’s bottom lip with a slow drag of his teeth, and caleb let out a groan that barely made it out of his throat. he retaliated with a nip of his own, then soothed it with his tongue, brushing into zayne’s mouth like he couldn’t help it—like he needed to know the taste of him, needed to feel it, memorize it.

and zayne gave it, eagerly.

their kisses grew hungry—not rushed, but ravenous. the kind of hunger that wasn’t about lust, not really. it was about needing to feel real. tangible. here.

caleb’s hands slipped to zayne’s waist, one sliding up his back, pulling him closer. zayne arched, chest to chest now, no space left between them. he sighed into caleb’s mouth, and the sound sent a shiver straight through him. caleb clutched him tighter.

the boat rocked gently beneath them, the water lapping against its sides, cradling them like it, too, understood the sacredness of this moment. the willows swayed above, a private curtain for two hearts finally colliding.

their bodies melted into each other, heat shared, breath exchanged. zayne’s fingers threaded through caleb’s hair. caleb’s palm splayed across zayne’s back, grounding himself in the reality of the moment—the warmth, the softness, the quiet sighs exchanged between kisses.

he never wanted to stop.

and neither did zayne.

they kissed like the world had paused just for them.

because for this moment, it had.

zayne tugged caleb back down before he could pull away, fingers curling into his shirt, dragging him closer. he kissed him again, open-mouthed and wanting, a quiet sound escaping from the back of his throat when caleb responded in kind, deeper this time. tongues brushing, teeth clashing faintly. their mouths hot, slick, and perfectly in sync.

caleb groaned into it, the sound low and needy. it vibrated against zayne’s lips, made his stomach twist and his chest tighten. zayne arched beneath him slightly, back brushing against the soft pillows (that yuu had smuggled in earlier), and it only made caleb press closer, like the very space between their bodies was too much to bear.

fingers roamed now. caleb's hand sliding along zayne’s waist, the dip of his spine, learning the shape of him, grounding himself in every ridge and curve. zayne’s hands weren’t still either—one tangled in caleb’s hair, the other gripped his shoulder like he was anchoring himself there, refusing to let this slip away.

“you’re going to ruin me,” zayne whispered between kisses, breathless, voice breaking at the edges.

caleb kissed the corner of his mouth, then lower, to his jaw. “let me.”

then down again, his lips brushing just beneath zayne’s ear. “let me ruin you softly.”

zayne trembled. his fingers fisted in caleb’s collar, eyes fluttering shut as his breath hitched.

and then caleb was back on his lips again—urgent, a little sloppy, uncoordinated now with how fast their hearts were beating, how high everything felt. zayne tugged at his shirt, dragging it up enough to touch bare skin beneath—hot, firm, real.

“caleb—” his name came out like a plea, a prayer.

“i’m here,” he murmured back, hands cupping zayne’s face like something precious. “i’m right here.”

their kisses slowed just barely, not out of hesitation but out of reverence. mouths still locked, still moving together, but now tasting, savoring. every press lingered. every breath shared between lips was sacred.

the fireflies continued to dance above them.

the boat rocked gently in the water, like a lullaby, like a heartbeat.

and the rest of the world—the crown, the war, the expectations, the scars—melted away.

just the prince and his knight.

lips parted.

hearts racing.

breaths stolen.

the boat gave a sudden lurch beneath them—a ripple from the lake’s current or maybe just the build-up of all that tension finally making the water itself react. either way, it rocked hard enough to break the rhythm of their kiss, forcing caleb to brace himself with one hand while the other instinctively wrapped around zayne’s waist to steady him.

zayne laughed—quiet, breathy, thoroughly amused. still beneath him, his hair slightly mussed, lips kiss-swollen, he looked completely unbothered by the interruption. if anything, he seemed more entertained than anything else. his hands didn’t leave caleb’s nape, fingers still toying with his hair, slow and absent, like there was no rush to untangle themselves from each other.

“planning to take me apart here?” he asked, voice full of teasing warmth. “how romantic.”

caleb exhaled, a low laugh escaping him despite himself. his forehead pressed briefly against zayne’s shoulder, embarrassed but grinning. “in my defense, i didn’t think the boat would protest.”

zayne hummed, drawing little circles against his neck with his thumb. “you really are reckless sometimes.”

“i’m not reckless,” caleb muttered, lifting his head to meet zayne’s eyes again, his tone mock-defensive. “i’m just… thorough.”

zayne’s eyes crinkled. “thorough, huh?”

caleb leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “painstakingly.”

that earned him a small, delighted scoff, zayne’s head tipping back slightly against the pillow. “you're incorrigible.”

“and you're distracting,” caleb murmured against his cheek, kissing his way slowly along his jaw.

“well, forgive me for not being able to control the effect i have on my knight.”

“no forgiveness necessary,” caleb said, lips hovering just above his again, breath mingling. “you can keep ruining me. i won’t complain.”

zayne’s laughter was softer this time, more affectionate, and he tangled his fingers tighter into caleb’s hair, pulling him back down into another kiss—slower now, sweeter. still full of heat, but no longer burning. just smoldering quietly, comfortably.

and as the boat gently floated along the darkening water, the sky above now painted with stars and the hush of the lake surrounding them, there was nothing else either of them wanted to be doing.

nothing else that mattered.

just this.

just them.

~~~

they laid side by side now, the boat drifting slowly beneath the weeping boughs of the willow trees, the moon casting silver reflections across the rippling lake. pillows scattered beneath them and around them, softening the hard floor of the little boat. the fireflies had grown fewer, but still lingered—little glowing witnesses to this moment suspended in time.

caleb was insatiable.

he couldn’t stop.

soft kisses along zayne’s jaw. a gentle one to his temple. the corner of his mouth. his nose. one after another, sweet and persistent, and zayne had half a mind to be annoyed if it didn’t feel so… good. so stupidly endearing.

“caleb,” he murmured, half-laughing, half-sighing as he turned his face slightly to avoid the next kiss—which only earned him one right behind his ear instead.

“yes, your highness?” caleb whispered, not missing a beat, lips ghosting over his skin.

“you’re insufferable.”

“mmhmm,” caleb replied, undeterred, nuzzling his way back to zayne’s cheek.

zayne finally retaliated, pushing him back with a hand to his face and leaning in to return the onslaught—kissing him hard and fast, catching caleb off guard and pulling a laugh straight from his chest.

“oh, we’re playing like that now?” caleb teased.

zayne smirked, lips brushing his again. “you started it.”

and then it was his turn to pepper kisses—though less chaotic, more deliberate. one to the center of caleb’s brow. one to the bridge of his nose. another to his chin, slow and warm. he watched caleb’s eyes flutter half-closed, his breathing slowing like he was being gently unraveled with each touch.

it was absurd, really. the shift from earlier—when caleb had been practically collapsing in his arms under the weight of his guilt, aching with the raw edge of memory—and now this: laughing into each other’s mouths, tangled close, like no wound had ever existed between them.

how did this one man—this impossibly stubborn, reckless, infuriating man—manage to tear him apart and then stitch him whole again with nothing but a look, a word, a kiss?

zayne touched his face, lightly tracing the line of his jaw with his fingers.

“you’re ridiculous,” he whispered.

caleb blinked, eyes heavy-lidded, smiling like he was drunk on the moment. “you’ve said that before.”

“i’ll keep saying it.”

“and i’ll keep proving you right.”

zayne chuckled, and their foreheads rested together now. the laughter faded into silence again. comfortable. close.

“you feel okay?” zayne asked quietly, voice no longer teasing.

caleb nodded. “getting there.”

there was still weight behind his eyes, but it no longer crushed him. it hung like clouds on the edge of a clearing—still present, but with the promise of blue skies.

“stay here,” caleb said. “just like this. don’t move yet.”

zayne smiled softly. “wasn’t planning to.”

they lay like that for a while, fingers linked between them. every so often, caleb would sneak in another kiss. zayne didn’t stop him. not even once.

~~~

time passed, soft and unnoticed. the moon climbed higher, painting long strokes of silver across the lake. the hum of insects and the occasional rustle of willow leaves were the only sounds—besides their breaths, and the steady rhythm of the water lapping gently at the boat’s sides.

eventually, zayne stirred.

“caleb,” he murmured, not wanting to move but knowing they had to. “we should go.”

caleb’s arms tightened for a second. “five more minutes.”

zayne smiled, carding his fingers through caleb’s hair once again. “you’ve been saying that for the past half hour.”

“i’m serious this time.”

zayne raised a brow. “mhm.”

but he didn’t push him off. instead, he pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, letting their foreheads rest together again.

still, the world called for them. responsibilities didn’t wait. and though zayne hated it, he sat up, pulling caleb with him.

the knight groaned softly, rubbing his eyes. “do we have to?”

zayne nodded, already adjusting his clothes. “before someone sends out a search party. again.”

caleb glanced around at the still lake, the boat now settled under a thick curtain of willow branches. the light of the palace was far, faint. almost unreal.

“i’ll row us back,” he said finally.

“you sure?” zayne teased. “not planning to strand me out here forever?”

caleb gave him a look. “you say that like it’s a bad idea.”

zayne just laughed, the sound low and easy as he leaned over to help collect the scattered pillows and the empty macaron box. he held the flower still tucked behind his ear, pressing it gently into place.

“romantic criminal,” he said under his breath.

caleb smirked as he stood, taking up the long pole again to push the boat along. “only for you.”

the ride back was quiet, but not heavy. just... peaceful.

by the time they reached the edge of the lake, the palace loomed once again—lights golden in the distance, music from the ball still playing faintly through the halls. a reminder of the world they had stepped away from.

zayne turned to look at him one last time before they stepped back onto land.

“thank you,” he said softly.

caleb’s brow furrowed slightly. “for what?”

“for coming back.”

there was no teasing in his voice this time.

caleb didn’t answer. he just leaned in and kissed him once more, brief but full of meaning.

and when they walked back toward the palace, their fingers brushed together—just once—but neither of them pulled away.

~~~

the palace grounds were quiet now, the muffled echoes of the ball fading behind shuttered windows and thick walls. the moon hung low, casting a soft sheen across the stone corridors and marble floors.

zayne and caleb took the back way in, avoiding open corridors and servant paths like a pair of seasoned fugitives. their steps were hushed, their shoulders brushing far too often to be accidental, and though neither of them said it aloud, the thrill of sneaking around like misbehaving schoolboys was undeniable.

zayne cast a glance toward the towering windows of the ballroom. “it’s almost over,” he murmured.

“all the more reason to skip it,” caleb replied with a shrug, keeping his grip on zayne’s hand as if someone might try to take him away if he let go.

“i’ll be scolded tomorrow,” zayne sighed.

“you’ll live,” caleb smirked, “and if not, i’ll go down for it with you.”

zayne looked at him, the way his face softened under the moonlight, and he felt that familiar ache in his chest—not from pain, but from the sheer weight of how much he wanted to hold on to this moment. to caleb. forever.

they reached the edge of his quarters, stepping out onto the secluded balcony. the night breeze carried in the scent of flowers from the lower gardens, and the stone beneath their feet was cool, quiet.

still, caleb didn’t let go.

his thumb brushed over the back of zayne’s hand, slow, thoughtful. and for a moment, his mask slipped. the brave knight, the confident man—he looked like someone afraid of the morning.

“…what if this is just tonight?” caleb said quietly, unable to stop the thought from spilling out. “what if you wake up tomorrow and this never happened?”

zayne didn’t respond right away. he just looked at him. then, with a small, knowing smile, he tugged caleb forward.

and kissed him. harder this time. deeper. less like a promise and more like a declaration.

there was nothing gentle about it—not like before on the boat. this one was heated, grounded, filled with something raw and claiming. something that said: i want you. i choose you. and i’m not going to forget this in the morning.

caleb groaned against his mouth and pressed him back against the wall beside the balcony doors. his hands found zayne’s waist, then slid upward, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush. fingers curling into fabric, nails scraping lightly at skin. like he needed to hold all of him at once.

zayne gasped into his mouth, the sound sharp and startled but not unwilling. his hand fisted into caleb’s shirt and the other gripped his shoulder, pulling him impossibly closer. heat spilled between them in waves, and if not for the solid stone at his back, zayne might have melted entirely.

and gods, zayne looked beautiful like this—flushed and breathless, lips parted, gaze dazed.

it was everything and more.

then—

“ahem.”

a very loud, deliberately annoyed throat clear.

the two tore apart, breathless, caleb instinctively stepping in front of zayne like a shield, stance ready, hand twitching toward his side—

only to find sieghart standing in the shadowed edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, his face a masterpiece of unimpressed exhaustion.

“the hell, old man?” caleb hissed, half in embarrassment, half in actual alarm.

“oh, don’t flatter yourself,” came sieghart’s unimpressed drawl, emerging from the shadows, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched high. “if i wanted to attack, i’d wait until you weren’t so... preoccupied.”

caleb flushed hard, stepping slightly to the side but still partially blocking zayne.

zayne blinked. “how long have you been standing there?”

“long enough,” sieghart replied flatly. “though, judging by that performance, i’m surprised the palace guards didn’t spot the fireworks.”

caleb scowled. “what do you want?”

“i just wanted to confirm his highness hadn’t been abducted or thrown into a river,” sieghart continued, gesturing vaguely behind him. “turns out, i found something far worse.”

zayne sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “must you be so dramatic?”

“i’m sparing my eyes, not yours,” sieghart said, narrowing his gaze. “and while i’m thrilled the two of you finally got your heads out of your collective asses, i’d prefer it if i wasn’t privy to every inch of it.”

caleb grumbled under his breath.

sieghart turned on his heel. “consider this a warning. the next time i catch you defiling palace architecture with your hormones, i will throw a training dummy at your head. good night.”

and with that, he disappeared into the darkness of the gardens, muttering something about hopeless romantic idiots.

caleb and zayne stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“…should we be worried?” caleb finally asked.

zayne shook his head with a helpless laugh. “only if you try to kiss me in the war room.”

“oh no,” caleb said dryly, “that’s next week’s scandal.”

zayne smirked. “looking forward to it.”

and just like that, the tension melted again. caleb took his hand once more, grounding him like always.

“come inside,” zayne said, tugging gently at his hand.

caleb bit his lip, smile half-nervous, half-playful. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

zayne raised a brow. “oh?”

caleb gestured vaguely between them. “i mean… i’ve got a notoriously bad track record when it comes to keeping my hands to myself.”

zayne rolled his eyes and stepped in close, their noses nearly brushing. “we’re not doing anything. except sleep.”

caleb gave a dramatic sigh. “tragic.”

zayne smacked his shoulder lightly. “get in before sieghart actually throws that training dummy through my window.”

caleb chuckled and let himself be pulled inside. the room was quiet, lit only by a few dim lamps and the sliver of moonlight that slipped through the balcony doors. zayne kicked off his shoes and stretched his arms above his head, loose hair falling around his face, soft and unguarded in a way that made caleb’s chest ache.

caleb watched him for a moment before silently following suit, toeing off his boots and unfastening his cloak. he hesitated by the edge of the bed, waiting—still half-unsure, like the illusion might break if he moved too confidently.

zayne turned, catching the look on his face, and without a word, lifted the blankets and made room for him.

no teasing. no commands. just an open space beside him.

and caleb didn’t need any more convincing.

he climbed in slowly, careful with every movement as though reverent of the moment itself. they lay facing each other, zayne’s hand finding his under the covers, their fingers twining loosely, naturally. caleb let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“you still look nervous,” zayne said quietly.

caleb stared at him. “i’m not used to… this. the quiet. the peace.”

zayne gave his hand a squeeze. “get used to it. i’m not going anywhere.”

a silence followed, but it was warm and full, like a shared blanket. then caleb laughed under his breath.

“what?”

“i just realized this is the first bed i’ve slept in that isn’t too short for me.”

zayne snorted. “wow. a romantic, through and through.”

caleb leaned in, bumping their foreheads gently. “you bring it out of me.”

another silence. another moment that didn’t need filling.

zayne yawned softly, lids heavy. “sleep.”

“don’t have to tell me twice,” caleb murmured, already halfway there.

as the night deepened outside, the two of them drifted into sleep. tangled together. safe. quiet.

and at long last, caleb no longer woke to the past that haunted him.

but to the present that finally, gently, dared to stay.