Zeya tore around the running track like he had something to prove. Beneath the mid-afternoon sun, he felt the sting of its heat as warm wind rushed past his ears. The world blurred at the edges; trees smudged into streaks of green, the gravel path churned, sending plumes of dust into the air.

  His chest burned, but it was the kind of fire that made him feel alive. Every p carried him farther from what haunted him. In this breathless pace, the sheer exhiration filled the space where self-loathing used to thrive.

  One of the privileges of being Crown Prince was that, whenever he chose to run, the track swiftly cleared, leaving the entire space to him. He welcomed the solitude, even knowing Khin Yu was likely nearby, stationed beneath the cypress trees, watching in silence. Still, out here, Zeya could drop the performance. No need to meet expectations, no eyes to impress, no roles to py. It was just him and the environment, a rare moment of freedom.

  After catching his breath, Zeya went to the fencing area to work through the usual warm-up routine beneath the still afternoon sky. He rolled his shoulders and his wrists, loosening and stretching any tight muscles. Thura appeared promptly, holding their practice swords. Although they were specifically for training, the bdes were beautifully crafted by the skilled swordsmiths of the capital to replicate the double-edge swords without its lethal edge.

  “Your Highness, looks like you’ve thoroughly warmed up. Good. Shall we run through the drill?”

  “Absolutely,” Zeya replied, grinning. “I see that smile’s still firmly in pce, Lord Thura. Truly, it’s a delight to see you in such fine spirits.”

  “Well, as they say, enjoy the mangosteen season, it won’t st forever!”

  “Surely ‘forever’ is a bit overrated. I mean, one good season ought to be enough, don’t you think?”

  “You’ll think so, but once you’ve tasted the delicate blend of sweet, tart, juicy flesh, you’ll want another. Then another.”

  “Ah, the perils of pleasure, always wanting more.”

  “Indeed. Still, it’s better to enjoy the mangosteen now then never!”

  “Well said.”

  Thura chuckled then took his position next to Zeya. Side by side, they moved through their practice forms with the double-edged sword. They flowed through the sequences: a high thrust followed by a sweeping cut, then a low parry flowing into a quick riposte. Their bdes moved in near unison, tracing elegant arcs through the air.

  They circled through footwork patterns next, light on their feet, shifting smoothly between forward stances and angled retreats. By the time they stepped into the centre of the fencing area, their minds were focused and their bodies ready.

  “Lord Thura, I can’t help but feel you’re going easy on me of te. What’s the matter? Afraid I might actually outsmart you by any chance?” Zeya jested, wishing to push the training session harder.

  “Ah, I see. We need something meatier to sink your teeth into. Very well,” Thura responded, acknowledging the request.

  He returned the double-edged swords to the weapon stand, a bde favoured by nobles and disciplined martial lords for its demand of precision, agility, and control. In its pce, Thura selected two sabres, the weapon of warriors and battlefields. Unlike the previous sword, these did not require elegance or restraint. They were built for brute strength, sweeping power, and raw speed; a different nguage of combat to what Zeya was used to.

  “How about we switch things up from all this prancing about? Shall we dive into something a bit more raw and unpredictable. No gentle easing in, no rehearsed moves.”

  “Absolutely, you know I can’t resist a bit of fun.”

  “Good. Expect the unexpected. Use unorthodox footwork. Invent tricks to confuse and surprise. Now, let’s see if you can keep pace.”

  Thura stepped in without warning, his sabre sweeping low in a wide, horizontal arc aimed at Zeya’s chest, testing his guard. The bde swish through the air, forcing Zeya to step back and meet it with a sharp upward diagonal block, the ft of his sword absorbing the impact and holding firm.

  Unlike the precise thrusts of their previous swordpy, this rhythm was heavier, more brutal. Thura pressed forward, twisting his hips to drive a powerful downward diagonal cut from shoulder to waist. The curved bde was made to cleave, not prod, and each strike carried the momentum of his whole body. The air between them thickened with the heat of exertion and blur of movement. When Thura was satisfied with Zeya’s form, he stepped up the pace, pushing the prince to respond swiftly.

  Zeya had no time to think, only to react. This was exactly the challenge he needed. He unched a wide, horizontal ssh aimed at Thura’s ribs, forcing his opponent to duck and manoeuvre away. Recovering quickly, Thura countered with a descending diagonal cut intended to slice from shoulder to hip, but Zeya intercepted it mid-air with a hard block that sent a jolt through both bdes. Their footwork became aggressive with short stomps and sharp pivots driving each blow.

  As the exchange wore on, Zeya searched for a way to outwit Thura, but experience remained Thura’s advantage. Zeya watched for an opening, when the sudden image of red braided cords binding his hands and Sein’s, flickered across his mind. He shook it off, and in that fleeting moment, saw his chance.

  He attempted a hooking, wrapping motion designed to slip past Thura’s straight block and disrupt his stance. But in his eagerness, Zeya overextended. The sudden torque, combined with the sabre’s weight and Thura’s solid counter, sent a sharp jolt up his arm. His grip faltered. Jaw clenched, he staggered back but readied himself to continue.

  Thura immediately halted and lowered his sabre.

  “Best to stop for the day. Pushing on will only aggravate it,” he voiced his concern.

  “I’m alright. Continue.”

  “Your Highness, allow me to take a look at that wrist.”

  “Your Highness, what has happened?”Khin Yu’s voice was heard. In the blink of an eye, he’d appeared by their side.

  “Lord Thura, expin yourself.”

  Then turning towards the balcony which overlooked the practice area, he instructed, “Jin San, call for the pace medic.”

  “Khin Yu, stop fretting,” Zeya asserted. “I’m quite alright. It’s my own fault entirely.”

  He felt foolish. He should’ve known better, but his mind had been distracted. The initial pain had subsided; however, as he tried to raise his bde, it fred with the movement, making it difficult to grip. Understanding the injury would necessitate rest, the prince conceded.

  “I fear you may be right, Lord Thura. Best we call it a day before I embarrass myself further.”

  “Your Highness, apologies. I may have pushed too much, too soon.”

  “Not at all. It’s what I asked for. If anything, you were far too generous with me, Lord Thura. I’ve still much to learn.”

  ***

  There was a soft knock on the bedchamber door. Zeya called out, “Come in, Saw Win.”

  His attendant pushed the sliding door and stepped inside. “Your Highness, Lady Sein brought this healing ointment for you in person. Would you like to see her?”

  Zeya blinked in surprise, accepting the little jar from Saw Win. A grin tugged at his lips which he couldn’t conceal. Sein had come, even at this hour, just to deliver her herbal balm. She had thought of him. He felt ridiculously giddy, like a boy handed his favourite treat. But along with it came the sting of self-consciousness. Thura must have told her of his minor mishap, and he wasn’t sure if he felt cherished or embarrassed.

  “What shall I say to Lady Sein, Your Highness?” Saw Win’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

  “Yes, Saw Win. I’d like to see her. Would you be so kind as to bring her in?”

  Zeya smoothed his robe and ran a quick hand through his hair, attempting to make himself look less like someone who’d been moping. He was already in bed, propped upright, legs folded beneath the linen sheets. After supper, he’d come straight here, shutting the door on the rest of the world.

  What in the spirits am I doing? he questioned himself. Should I allow Sein to see me like this? I must look an absolute fool.

  It was too te to change his mind now, as Saw Win slid the door open once more and Sein walked in.

  “Lady Sein, good evening,” Zeya welcomed her, prompting Sein to dip into a quick curtsey.

  “Your Highness,” she greeted.

  “Have you come to cheer me up?” Zeya asked, trying to remain neutral but a huge grin escaped him.

  He knew at once, he’d missed seeing her that afternoon.

  “Of course,” Sein responded, matching his smile.

  She walked gracefully across the handwoven rug to the end of his bed. With a small gesture towards the jar on the side table, she added, “I thought you might like to try some of my healing ointment.”

  Saw Win gave a polite bow and withdrew, the wooden door sliding shut with a faint thud.

  “Much appreciated. I will. But for now…” Zeya’s voice softened more than he intended, “Why don’t you sit and talk with me for a little while?”

  Desire always came at the worst moments and this one was no exception. He tried to smother it with guilt.

  When that failed, he reasoned with himself. Surely there was no harm in wishing for her companionship; it was no different from sitting side by side in the Archives.

  With a light tone, he added, “Would you like a seat here?”

  He gave the empty space beside him a gentle pat.

  Sein briefly hesitated, then replied, “I’m fine. Tell me what happened.”

  “It’s really nothing, just a minor strain. I wasn’t quite focused enough. Honestly, I’m perfectly fine. Everyone is making far more of a fuss over it than necessary. See, I’m still in working order.”

  Zeya raised his arm and moved it as if holding an imaginary sword to prove his point.

  “Perhaps we like making a fuss of you. It’s unlike you not to be focused during training. What’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing at all,” Zeya assured her.

  Once again, it struck him how well she knew him, perhaps more than he’d realised. But how could he tell her the truth?

  He couldn’t exactly admit, ’Well, you know, I was thinking about our spiritual blessing and wishing that our union was real.’

  He shoved the thought aside, slipping on the familiar mask.

  “Are you pnning on standing there and admiring me from afar, or will you sit by my side? I must say, I’m already feeling considerably better just seeing you.”

  “Oh really?” Sein retorted, with a raised eyebrow. “Are you in the habit of inviting dies to sit on your bed?” She approached the side he was sitting, moving closer to him.

  “No, only you are allowed on my bed,” Zeya responded, half in jest, but the sincerity beneath it betrayed him. His gaze lingered on her, searching her face for any hint of how she’d taken his words.

  Sein’s eyes narrowed a fraction before gncing at her feet. Having made a decision, she stepped forward towards the bed. She flicked her asymmetric cape to one side and seated herself at the edge of the mattress, facing him.

  “Will you give me your hand?”

  Zeya’s heart raced. The simple fact that she was willing to sit on his bed was enough to send his longing spiralling out of control. Almost at once, he chided himself for reading far too much into her kindness. Habit quickly took over. He extended his good arm and, pretending to misunderstand her request, rested his hand gently in her open palm.

  “No, I meant your injured wrist.”

  Sein caught on immediately. She fixed him with one of her stern looks, making it clear she knew exactly what he was doing.

  “I’ll put on some of my ointment. It’ll reduce any swelling. Trust me.”

  “I trust you completely, “ Zeya responded with a sheepish smile, offering his injured arm.

  Sein didn’t meet his eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips as she started to unwrap the bandage. Her fingers worked the cloth loose as her other hand lightly held his arm. There was a tenderness in her touch that comforted him completely. As contentment grew, it bloomed into a sense of belonging. It was like the warmth of a good fire, the discovery of a missing puzzle piece, and the feeling of finally returning home, all rolled into one.

  For a moment, he soaked in the bliss as his gaze drifted to her lips. The urge to pull her close surged through him, but that thought shattered with the sound of his uncle’s voice outside the door.

  “It sounds like my uncle is here,” he spoke up.

  Sein immediately let go of his arm and stood up. Her face showed arm as she moved away quickly.

  “Don’t go. Not yet,” Zeya said firmly, making her pause.

  “But I don’t wish to see your uncle. I’d rather he didn’t see me here. You know what I mean.”

  “I understand your concerns although my uncle will not judge us. If you’d prefer, will you wait in the bathing room? He’s about to come in.”

  Sein nodded without protest and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. At that moment, Saw Win opened the bedchamber door to let Lord Ray in.

  “How is my favourite nephew?” Lord Ray asked, his eyes full of concern as he approached the bed. “I came as soon as humanly possible.” He stood where Sein had been just a few moments ago.

  “I’m absolutely fine, Uncle. Really, it’s hardly worth mentioning, just a small strain.”

  Zeya rexed back into his pillows and smiled warmly.

  “I am delighted to hear it,” Lord Ray said as his eyes fell on Zeya’s wrist, at the bandage which was half unravelled.

  “I was about to apply this healing ointment,” Zeya replied to his question before it was spoken.

  Lord Ray gnced curiously at the small jar sitting on the bedside table.

  “Tell me, who gave this to you?” he enquired, opening the lid and taking a sniff.

  “A friend, naturally,” Zeya said, casually.

  “I must say, it is elegantly simple indeed,” Lord Ray remarked, setting the jar back on the bedside table. “I have something far superior for you. This dressing is crafted by my own master healer, imbued with extraordinary healing abilities.”

  He took out a piece of beautifully woven blue cloth from his pocket.

  “Remove that bandage nonsense and let me apply this instead. By tomorrow, you will be entirely back to normal.”

  Zeya did as asked and his uncle took his arm then wrapped the blue cloth around his wrist.

  “How did this happen? Lord Thura mentioned you were distracted which seems utterly out of character for you.”

  “I lost my concentration for one moment. You know, it was just for a split second.”

  “Distracted with what? What is going on in that head of yours?”

  Zeya pondered what to say to satisfy his uncle quickly. He didn’t wish to keep Sein in the bathing room too long.

  “Perhaps there is a particur dy who has, shall we say, captured your attention?”

  Zeya instinctively gnced at the bathing room as Lord Ray continued, “We are, after all, in the company of a rather stunning array of young dies here at court, not to mention the fine women in our service. It’s only natural for a young man to have certain desires and urges. But your union with Princess Nanda is only twelve months away. It may seem an age, yet it will slip by in the blink of an eye. Resist the allure of court dies; they are, how shall I put it, not of your station.”

  Had his uncle noticed his admiration for Sein? Had one of the servants seen them in the gardens, walking together so often? Had his discreet gnces been too obvious during formal gatherings? And worse still, were there already rumours circuting about them?

  When Zeya didn’t respond, but looked a little dismayed before regaining his full composure, Lord Ray offered, “Ah yes, I imagine at eighteen one’s needs are quite, if I may be blunt, pressing. Naturally, a man must look after himself. Still, I suggest, rather than entangling oneself with a dy of the court, so full of delicate sensitivities, I could arrange for someone… discreet, of course, and tasteful, to attend to your requirements. It’s far better to satisfy one’s desires without muddying the waters at court.”

  “Truly, that will not be necessary, Uncle,” Zeya responded, utterly mortified. He hoped Sein wasn’t listening to their conversation. He promptly asserted, “I assure you, I have sufficient restraint to keep the court waters perfectly undisturbed.”

  His uncle’s words made him realise, how could there be any future for him and Sein? But then, an image fshed in his mind: a red silk cord, binding two hands—his and hers. He sighed inwardly as the vision colpsed, crumpling like parchment crushed in the hand of reality.

  He must master his emotions and cut himself loose from the bonds of hope. If not for his sake, for Sein’s. He couldn’t bear to lead her towards a dead end, no matter how sweet the journey. It would only hurt her in the end.

  Lord Ray studied his nephew, and seeing that Zeya was ruminating, he said, “Well, whatever else is on your mind, do not worry. It is entirely normal to become distracted once in a while. After all, we are only human. Life has an uncanny knack for throwing distractions our way, as if to test our resolve. But fear not, my dear nephew! Tomorrow morning, we shall begin with some rigorous training, focusing solely on the mind. We shall delve into the depths of your thoughts, like determined hunters tracking down elusive prey, and vanquish any troubling notions that dare to linger. Now then, do try and get a proper night’s sleep.”

  “Much appreciated, Uncle.”

  Then suddenly aware Sein was still waiting in the bathroom, he added, “Good night.”

  He lowered himself into the bed, clearly signalling his desire to be alone. Lord Ray took the cue and headed for the door.

  “Indeed, we shall face tomorrow anew, and I shall be right by your side, ready to conquer whatever challenges may come your way. And the offer I mentioned earlier still stands should you change your mind. Sleep well, Zeya,” he said before leaving.

  As soon as Saw Win pushed the door to a close, Zeya jumped out of bed. He slid the bathroom door gently and stepped into the darkness.

  “Sein?”

  “Oh you scared me!”

  He heard Sein gasped as his eyes adjusted to the dim room, lit only by the soft glow of nterns filtering through the shutters.

  “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to creep up. My stealth training must be paying off,” Zeya said with a sheepish chuckle, strolling up to her. “My uncle has left. Will you come back to bed with me?”

  The words slipped out as he extended his hand to hers. Then reprimanding himself, he withdrew swiftly, turning away and returning to the bedchamber. Sein followed behind.

  “You seem much better. What is that?” Sein indicated to the blue bandage.

  “It’s from my uncle’s healer,” Zeya replied, lightly jumping onto the bed and propping himself against the pillows as before. “He thought your ointment was clearly good stuff. He called it elegantly simple.”

  “Really? I suppose it’s a little basic.”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t mention it was from you.”

  “Good.”

  “Could you sit with me again?”

  Zeya indicated to the space where she sat before, determined to continue in his light-hearted manner as if nothing had changed.

  “It’s easier to bear the pain when you’re here.”

  “Is that right? Just how much pain are you in?”

  “Tremendous amount. I’ll need your help to keep my mind elsewhere.”

  “And how shall I do that?”

  Sein gave him a pyful gre, one brow lifted.

  “Would you sit here with me, perhaps just chatting a while… maybe until I drift off?”

  Sein ughed softly. “What are you like? A little boy needing to be tucked into bed? Shall I hold your hand and tell you a bedtime story?”

  “Well, although I may be a grown man, I still find comfort in the company of a true friend,” Zeya responded earnestly, then with a cheeky grin, added, “Since you’re offering, would you indulge me with a story and hold my hand?”

  “Fine. You’ll get one story and that’s it.”

  Sein reached for his hand, and he let her take it, all the while thinking, You’re too good to me, Sein. I don’t deserve you.

  She had proven it again and again: her kindness, her generosity, her steady friendship and sound counsel. She was, without a doubt, his...

  Something shifted in Zeya’s mind.

  Just because my path was plotted by bloodlines and celestial charts, he mused, must I really follow it without question?

  A flicker of resistance stirred in him. Perhaps the stars weren’t everything.