Barely two hours had passed since the unexpectedly cut-short trial presided over by Prince Kelen. The sun was already dipping below the horizon as Princess Belara made her way through the palace corridors. Her steps led her straight to Prince Kelen’s chambers.

  She stopped at the door and knocked, but no voice called, “Come in.”

  She knocked again. And again. Still nothing. Carefully, she pressed the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Peering inside, she saw the prince sitting in the center of the room, slumped in an armchair, staring out the window.

  “Prince?” she said softly.

  Kelen turned his head slowly, and Belara flinched at the sight of him. He looked utterly worn out, as if a decade had been carved from his life in a single day.

  “Prince… you look awful.”

  He said nothing, just stared blankly ahead.

  “Why did you give up the chance to make a decision in my tournament task?”

  A long pause. Then Kelen finally spoke. “Life isn’t just about handling your tournament challenges well.” His tone was sharp, almost deliberately cutting.

  “And can you tell me what led you to that choice?”

  “One strong memory. I don’t want to speak of it. It hurts too much. Because of that incident, people thought for weeks that I had gone mad like my family.”

  “But it wasn’t that, was it?”

  “Just a heavy mental blow.”

  “If it really troubles you that much,” Belara said gently, “I’ll try to arrange for you to change your decision — and condemn someone after all.”

  “That’s exactly it!” Kelen burst out. “I don’t want to judge anyone! What if I make a mistake and point to an innocent person — who ends up executed because of me?”

  “Prince,” Belara said in a soothing voice, “it’s just a game. No one’s really being executed. You know that.”

  “For you it may be a game,” Kelen snapped, “but for me it echoes that tragedy from the past. I know it’s all pretend. I understand it with my mind. But the thought of condemning an innocent person — even in play — is unbearable.” His voice trembled with guilt.

  Belara was growing tired of being cast as the villain — especially by the young man she had begun to like. So she spoke with calm firmness:

  “I won’t apologize for unintentionally bringing up your past. You should stop blaming me. I didn’t know. But I’m ready to listen and give you all the support I can. That’s your choice. Decide quickly, because I’ll be leaving soon.”

  They were silent for a moment. Kelen looked troubled, torn between showing weakness and telling her the truth or keeping his distance. Then, suddenly, he made up his mind.

  “So you really don’t know about my older mentor, the man who guided me through life? His name was Balzod, and he came from the noble house of Hviturn.”

  “The name Balzod doesn’t mean anything to me,” Belara replied. “But I know the Hviturns. They’ve always been known as loyal subjects of the Terresian king.”

  “Yeah… loyal,” Kelen said bitterly. “Loyalty is a fine thing, but it often comes at a steep price. Sometimes the highest price, and circumstances don’t matter.”

  “You speak as if you’re unhappy someone is faithful to the crown. We, the royal houses, need that kind of loyalty. And we need it desperately to hold power, so that loyalty can stretch all the way to the grave.”

  “Exactly…” Kelen muttered quietly.

  Suddenly, Belara’s eyes lit up. “So that’s it. Balzod of the Hviturns was so unwavering in his loyalty that he paid with his life. And it was all tangled up in something he had no control over, right? He had to be innocent.”

  “Basically, yes,” the prince nodded. “But I’ll tell you the whole story from the beginning. You deserve to know. Don’t you want to sit down first?” He gestured to the other armchair. As soon as the princess settled in, smoothed her dress, and straightened her posture, Kelen began recounting the events of his past.

  “When I was born, the Hviturn family — whose head had very close ties with my father at the time — offered that for an even stronger alliance between our Selthari line and theirs, their only son, then thirteen, would become my teacher, protector, and advisor. From that point, the adolescent Balzod spent more and more time at our court. By the time I was three, he stayed permanently. He oversaw much of my education and upbringing. I still had specialized teachers for certain areas, but Balzod was the friend who stood by me, providing support in everything. He taught me everything a proper king and ruler should know. They told me that back then, we spent whole days running through gardens, climbing trees, and fencing with sticks. Each year my training became more demanding: horseback riding, archery, hand-to-hand combat, plus lessons in etiquette and noble customs. For fun, we created our own secret code, known only to the two of us, which we used for all sorts of pranks and mischief.”

  “That went on year after year until I was twelve. Balzod was twenty-five.”

  “Shortly before that, trouble began with one of the most powerful noble families in the kingdom. It couldn’t be ignored; the situation had to be resolved and calmed, or else rebellion or war might follow. I still don’t know exactly what happened between our Selthari family and the Chalendzhuur family. I wasn’t interested, and I had no say. I was just a boy.”

  “In the end, it was somehow settled, and the Chalendzhuurs held a grand ball at their estate to celebrate restored stability and good relations with the crown. Their stronghold, Chalur Castle, wasn’t far from our royal city, Dralamir.”

  “By that time, my father had already suffered one of his early attacks — two days before the ball. There was no way the king could attend in that state. So Balzod and I went alone, without him. Of course, we weren’t the only representatives from the royal court. A delegation of officials, diplomats, and important nobles arrived, including key military figures.”

  “When we got to the ball, I remember being bored from the very start.” Kelen smiled faintly at the memory. “Balzod made sure I obeyed the ban on alcohol. I didn’t want to dance, and aside from a few dances with girls my age, I stayed off the floor.”

  “Are you a good dancer?” the princess interrupted, firing the question like a lightning bolt.

  Kelen paused, then answered, “I consider myself a competent dancer who won’t ruin it with a misstep or break in the choreography. But I dance out of duty more than enjoyment.”

  “Then I’ll test you,” she said with a mischievous wink. “There’s a small ball planned for the end-of-tournament celebration.”

  “Good to know what’s waiting for me. I won’t get out of it,” he added.

  “Sorry, Prince. I interrupted you completely.”

  “That’s fine, Princess. I know where I left off.” He paused briefly, chuckled, and continued.

  “Balzod probably knew I’d be bored at such an event, so he deliberately told me not to eat before the ball. I arrived starving and spent some time just getting my bearings before I could eat. Then I had to observe my surroundings, dance once or twice more, and respond to short greetings from the many guests who came to meet the crown prince.”

  “Somewhere in the middle of the evening, I couldn’t take it anymore. Despite Balzod’s orders, I slipped away unnoticed and wandered the halls of Chalur Castle. As I wandered, I entered a room with the door slightly ajar. I don’t even know why I went in, but I walked nearly to the wooden table in the center.” Kelen paused and visibly shivered.

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  “Is something wrong, Prince?”

  “I just remember standing at that table, looking out the large window into the black night, a chill running down my spine. Then a voice said something I don’t recall. I turned and saw it was a young man, around Balzod’s age. I knew him by sight and reputation. His name was Randes — a promising future head and leader of the Chalendzhuur family.”

  Kelen paused again, seeming to wrestle with himself over whether to continue. The princess sensed he was approaching the critical event that haunted him.

  “With some words, a murderous look, fire in his eyes, and a smile on his lips, he drew a dagger from his belt and attacked me without hesitation. I don’t remember the details of the fight. I know he stabbed me in the right shoulder. Then I must have disarmed him of the dagger, because he struck me immediately afterward with an iron candlestick shaped like a standing bear. The blow to my head knocked me out briefly. But the bear statue held a thick white candle that was burning. It must have flown off and likely set one of the heavy, easily flammable curtains by the large window on fire.”

  I never figured out why Randes attacked me. The tension between the crown and the Chalendzhuurs wasn’t that severe. And personally, I hadn’t harmed him in any way. I barely even knew the man.

  I lost consciousness briefly. Adrenaline, however, brought me back quickly. When I woke, to my surprise, I saw my teacher Balzod lying on the carpet, with Randes looming over him, reaching with one hand for that cursed bear-shaped candlestick lying nearby. He was about to crush Balzod’s skull. Summoning every ounce of strength and ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I grabbed the dagger next to me. I closed the distance and plunged it into Randes’s back. I don’t think I aimed precisely. I just knew it would buy us time. By some stroke of luck and misfortune, I hit the heart. The young Chalendzhuur collapsed dead. But… instead of just wounding him, I’d taken his life. As Randes fell, spilling all his blood onto the carpet, I followed. I lost consciousness again. I’m not sure what happened in the following moments, but I pieced it together afterward.

  “I know for certain that I lost consciousness in the middle of the room, near that wooden table. Balzod must have dragged me aside or shielded me somehow, because a moment later the servants opened the doors — probably searching for the source of the smoke from the burning curtain. But from their testimony, they only saw Balzod standing near the dead body of Randes. No mention of me at all. I was never connected to Randes’s death, not even hypothetically. The servants only saw Balzod and assumed they saw what they saw.”

  “The maids began screaming hysterically, forgetting what they were doing, running to tell everyone the terrible news. Balzod then carried me out of the burning room, through the halls, in his arms. By then, I no longer wore my noble coat. He must have discarded it along the way, likely to prevent me from being easily recognized. In his arms, my teacher carried only the limp body of a boy, who was not immediately identified as a prince.”

  “By that time, panic about the fire was spreading, and all the guests were fleeing. Chaos filled the corridors. Naturally, we had to blend in with the crowd.”

  “I briefly regained consciousness as Balzod laid me into the carriage, ordering the coachman to drive to Dralamir as fast as possible, telling him he had permission to push all the horses to their limits because the prince’s life was at stake.”

  “And that was the last time I saw Balzod alive.” Kelen paused, and the princess remained still, waiting.

  “With life still in me, they managed to get me safely to Dralamir. Healers immediately took me in and did everything to keep me alive. We must have arrived around midnight.”

  “May I ask,” the princess said eagerly, “how no one investigated the cause of your injuries? You were stabbed in the shoulder and had a head injury.”

  Kelen gave a faint smile despite the sadness in his eyes. “That’s the genius of my teacher. Upon arrival, he told everyone I’d been injured while fleeing Chalur Castle. I guess he invented a plausible story along the way home. The head injury? He said I slipped on the marble steps in the stampede of fleeing guests.”

  “And the dagger wound?” Belara asked. “You couldn’t just blame that on a fall.”

  “Neither did he. He took advantage of the fact that the hallways of Chalur were lined with displayed armor. Each set of armor held some weapon. There were not just swords — halberds, spears, maces, hammers, and more. He claimed that in the chaos, we bumped into one, and the weapon struck my shoulder. Normally, it sounds far-fetched, but in a burning castle, with a panicked crowd, it became believable.”

  “Besides, I wasn’t the only one injured after the Chalendzhuur estate. People had burns, broken bones, and cuts. No one could dispute Balzod’s story. Nobody knew what the prince did when the fire started, so everyone eventually accepted the official version as truth.”

  “But let’s return to Dralamir. The healers took care of me, while Balzod spread the official story. Hours later, at dawn, a delegation arrived from Chalur. They were angry, demanding revenge. The maids had already told their version, and the culprit seemed clear: Balzod of the Hviturns had killed Randes Chalendzhuur.”

  “But that wasn’t true. I killed Randes. Balzod immediately realized what would happen if anyone saw the crown prince at the scene. The freshly restored relations between the Selthari crown and the Chalendzhuurs would have exploded. If the Chalendzhuurs had been a problem before, now they would have been a disaster for the kingdom. Hence, Balzod’s quick thinking.”

  “The Chalendzhuurs demanded a culprit — and they wanted Balzod. He initially refused, and they threatened war, rebellion, and the crown itself.”

  “The misfortune was that my father was still having his attack of madness. He couldn’t intervene; the whole event passed him by, just like it did me.”

  “There was, however, a small group of advisors who had to make the choice: either defend Balzod and risk rebellion and war, or sacrifice one life to maintain royal power and stability. Since no one was closely tied to Balzod, no family or friends, they made a simple pragmatic decision for the good of the kingdom. They told Balzod he must go. He resisted briefly, but was persuaded that the Chalendzhuurs would not harm someone so close to the crown, that he would serve time in prison, they would be handsomely compensated, and the matter would be forgotten. Eventually, Balzod agreed to go voluntarily. I’m sure that if he had known what awaited him, he never would have.”

  “So anyway, that morning my teacher left with them. The Chalendzhuurs held a swift, secret trial. Balzod was immediately found guilty by eyewitnesses. The judge pointed at the innocent Balzod and said: ‘Guilty.’” Kelen paused, and the princess understood why he had resisted pointing at someone and saying that word hours before.

  The prince continued: “Then the punishment was simple. Death. Life for life. He was executed the next day at noon. That same evening, I regained consciousness and learned everything. But it was too late.”

  “Balzod’s body was immediately transported in a wooden coffin, reportedly made by my teacher himself, to the Hviturn estate. He was buried there.”

  “I still don’t understand how, but I insisted on saying goodbye to Balzod as soon as possible. They took the best-sprung carriage, lined it with blankets and furs, and slowly brought me there.”

  “His grave didn’t even have a stone yet. Just a mound of earth. In great sorrow, I said farewell to my lifelong friend and teacher, and never returned.”

  “The Hviturns wanted revenge on the Chalendzhuurs, even though they were the weaker family. But by then, my father had regained his senses and personally ensured the Hviturns let it go. He gave them extensive lands and other… bribes. Still, the warm, long-standing relationship between the Selthari and Hviturns was shattered. Friendship cooled, both houses grew distant. The Hviturns remained loyal to the crown but withdrew from affairs, moving to the sidelines.”

  “When I returned from saying goodbye to Balzod, I fell into fever again. This time it took longer to recover. I raved. When I emerged, my behavior and personality had changed. I became a quiet, withdrawn boy. I didn’t smile. I spent time alone. In some ways, my condition resembled my father’s madness. Many at court whispered that I had inherited the illness. Thankfully, they were wrong.”

  “Over time, I recovered from that shock, but the effects never fully disappeared. Not yet.”

  “That’s awful, what you went through.”

  “Since then, I’ve closed myself off. I open up very slowly, almost never. The biggest change came here in Ghurmaca, in your presence.”

  The princess smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, Prince. But don’t say it too often — it might go to my head.”

  “I’m glad you came. You’re the first to know the true story of Randes’s death. It’s a relief not to carry it alone anymore.”

  “Prince Kelen, shall we speak informally? At least when we’re alone. We’ve slipped into it before, but always returned to formalities as etiquette dictates.”

  “I’m for it, Belara,” Kelen said, smiling. He squeezed her hand slightly, his gaze fixed on her eyes. They sat in silence, charged with tension and anticipation.

  Then he leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand. Kelen felt her pulse beneath his palm. Her gentle squeeze urged him to stay close, without rushing.

  “But, but, Prince,” she said teasingly, “you’re not planning another climb to the mountain peak, like last time?”

  “I don’t know what I want,” Kelen admitted. “I only know I want you beside me, to open up to you, to heal my broken soul with your presence.”

  “I’m glad you trust me,” said the princess. She smiled softly and returned a gentle squeeze of his hand. Her words were quiet but clear in meaning.

  They looked at each other briefly, their fingers brushing together lightly but firmly. It was a small, shy contact.

  Kelen sat, taking in the princess’s beauty, noble bearing, and kind heart — what his traumatically shattered soul craved most.

  The air thickened with anticipation. The prince’s eyes met hers, seeing understanding, openness, and empathy. In that moment, the entire drama around Balzod Hviturn was forgotten. Kelen’s heart raced, and his mind focused on one thing: being physically close to her, to feel her, to hold her, to sense her touch.

  He rose from the chair, and with a gentle gesture of the hand they held, invited her to do the same. As they stood, Belara leaned slightly closer, supporting his motion. Kelen sensed it, stepped forward, and embraced her. He smelled her hair. He kissed her exposed neck without thinking. Belara let out a soft sigh and pressed gently where she held him. A wave of excitement coursed through him, perfectly completing the intimate moment. He found her lips lightly, and they lingered in a long kiss.

  Time seemed to slow. The whole world, with all its worries, receded. Only the two of them remained, in a moment they wished would never end.