The forest thickened as they moved north, silence blanketing the path like fog. Birds had stopped singing. Wind held its breath.
Evren's eyes swept the trees. "We're being followed."
Kaelion didn't flinch. "Four riders. Light-footed. Could be scouts."
"Or mercenaries," Evren muttered. "Or worse—someone sent by the council."
Kaelion pulled his horse to a halt, motioning silently. Evren dismounted in sync, both of them fading into the undergrowth without a word. No orders. No plan. Just instinct—and trust neither would admit existed.
The hooves grew louder. Closer.
Then a whistle pierced the air—sharp, coded.
Kaelion's hand flew up in signal. Evren responded instantly, circling wide. When the first rider appeared, Evren tackled him from his mount, blade to throat before the man could blink.
The other three surged forward—but Kaelion was already there, knocking one unconscious with brutal precision and slashing at another's reins to throw him off balance.
It was fast. Violent. Controlled.
When it ended, two men groaned on the forest floor, one fled, and the fourth lay still.
Evren straightened, blood on his cheek, chest heaving. "Not scouts."
"No," Kaelion said darkly, crouching by one of the fallen men. He tore the insignia off the man's cloak. It wasn't familiar.
"Outsiders," he murmured. "But hired locally. Someone knew our route."
Evren's eyes narrowed. "You still think this mission was random?"
Kaelion met his gaze. "No. And now it's a trap."
They stared at each other for a long, silent beat—like everything unsaid had suddenly become too loud to ignore.
Evren finally looked away. "We ride off-course. Through the ravine."
Kaelion nodded. "Agreed."
Evren turned, then paused. His voice was quieter now. "You fight well."
Kaelion looked surprised for a second. Then: "You bleed well."
Evren smirked despite himself. "Careful, Kael. You're starting to sound like you enjoy my company."
Kaelion looked back toward the darkened path. "Don't flatter yourself. I just prefer a capable shield."
Evren's laugh was low and short, but real.
And then they disappeared into the trees.
The ravine was narrow and steep, snaking through the underbelly of the northern range like a scar. Cold wind scraped against stone, carrying whispers from long-forgotten wars.
Evren's horse slipped slightly on loose gravel, and he cursed under his breath. Kaelion reached out, steadying the reins with one hand.
"Don't touch me," Evren snapped, jerking the reins back.
Kaelion didn't answer. He just moved ahead.
They rode single file, barely speaking as the sun dipped below the cliffs. Shadows grew taller, colder. Every rock felt like it was watching.
By nightfall, they made camp beneath a crumbling outcrop. The fire Kaelion lit was small—barely enough to warm their fingers. Not enough to attract attention.
Evren sat opposite him, arms crossed, cloak tight.
"We need to talk about what just happened," Kaelion said.
Evren raised a brow. "The ambush or your smart-ass attitude?"
Kaelion looked him dead in the eye. "The ambush. But you can cry about my attitude after."
Evren rolled his eyes. "Fine. Someone set us up. But why? You don't matter politically anymore, and I've always been a target."
Kaelion's jaw tightened. "Someone knew we'd be together. That narrows the suspects."
Evren leaned back against the stone. "You think it's someone inside the palace?"
"I think," Kaelion said slowly, "there are more eyes on us than we thought."
Silence stretched between them. The fire popped, throwing brief light across Evren's face. For once, he looked tired. Not weak—just… worn.
Kaelion watched him for a moment too long.
"What?" Evren snapped, sitting up.
Kaelion looked away. "Nothing."
"No, say it."
"You look different when you're not trying to win an argument."
Evren blinked, momentarily disarmed. "You're not funny."
"I wasn't trying to be."
Another silence. Then Evren stood abruptly. "I'm taking first watch."
Kaelion didn't stop him.
But long after Evren stepped away, Kaelion sat staring at the fire—expression unreadable, thoughts tangled.
Kaelion kept to the edge of the firelight, his royal cloak draped over one shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning the dark trees ahead. He didn't need to keep watch—Evren had insisted on taking first shift—but Kaelion didn't sleep easily anymore.
Not with him nearby.
Not since the bond.
Evren sat across the fire, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate strokes. The scrape of metal against stone echoed in the silence.
"You don't have to watch me like a hawk, Your Highness," Evren muttered without looking up.
"I'm not watching you," Kaelion replied coolly. "I'm watching our surroundings. You're just... in the way."
Evren chuckled darkly. "So royal. Even your insults wear a crown."
Kaelion didn't answer. He didn't need to. Their bond buzzed faintly under his skin—an invisible thread tying them together, humming with tension. It didn't just link their magic. It felt.
And that was the problem.
He couldn't stop feeling Evren's frustration. His heat. His anger. And sometimes… his doubt.
But what scared Kaelion more was the flickers of something softer.
Something warmer.
He pushed it down.
"You should sleep," Evren said after a while. "You'll need your strength tomorrow."
"You care now?"
"I don't want you dying before I break this damned bond."
Kaelion's lips twitched—almost a smirk. "Touching."
He turned and walked toward the shadows, finally closing his eyes under the blanket of night. But even with the stars above and his eyes shut…
He could still feel Evren there.
Too close. Too sharp.
Too dangerous.
By morning, the storm had passed, but the sky remained gray. Kaelion didn't speak as he secured his cloak and mounted the ridge path. Evren followed behind him in silence, the bond between them buzzing faintly like a warning neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Halfway through the climb, Kaelion finally spoke. "You hesitate."
Evren blinked. "When?"
"Last night. During the ambush. You turned to check on me before striking."
Evren scoffed. "You think I need to explain how I fight now?"
"I think you're letting the bond cloud your judgment."
Kaelion turned slightly, just enough to meet Evren's eyes. His voice, low and sharp, held weight.
"Don't let it."
Evren's jaw tightened. "And what about you, Your Highness? You didn't even flinch when that blade nearly caught your shoulder."
"I knew you'd block it," Kaelion said calmly.
Evren stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. "Don't rely on me like that."
Kaelion's stare didn't waver. "Too late."
The silence crackled like dry leaves underfoot.
Neither moved.
Finally, Kaelion added, "I didn't choose this bond. But I won't pretend it doesn't exist."
Evren shook his head. "That's the problem. You're already leaning on it."
"I trust my instincts," Kaelion snapped.
"Then learn to fight without needing me."
They stood there, the wind whipping between them like a third voice—loud, cold, and restless.
Kaelion didn't reply.
He simply walked past, spine straight, crown invisible but unmistakable.
Evren watched him go.
Every time he tried to keep his distance, the prince stepped closer.
And the bond?
It pulled tighter.
By midday, they reached a forest veiled in mist, the kind that swallowed sound and light whole. Evren's grip on his sword tightened instinctively.
Kaelion moved ahead, steady and unfazed. Royal blood didn't quiver in the cold.
"You sure this is the way?" Evren asked.
"I studied these paths when I was ten," Kaelion replied without looking back. "You think I forgot?"
"I think royal tutors don't teach you what it's like to bleed in them."
Kaelion paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder. "That's what I have you for."
Evren stepped beside him, voice low. "Don't mistake me for your guard dog."
"I don't. Dogs are loyal."
That hit sharper than any sword.
Before Evren could bite back, something moved through the fog.
A low snarl.
Shadows shifted between the trees, silent but circling. Not bandits. Not soldiers.
Wolves. Twisted by corrupted magic—larger, leaner, eyes glowing with unnatural light.
Kaelion and Evren moved without a word.
Back-to-back.
Steel drawn.
Magic surged under Kaelion's skin, but he gritted his teeth, holding it in. He didn't trust it. Not fully. Not yet.
The first beast lunged.
Evren met it with a clean, brutal slice.
Kaelion ducked another and drove his dagger into its throat, fast and clean.
Three more circled.
"Don't use your magic unless you want this whole forest to burn," Evren warned through clenched teeth.
"I wasn't planning on it," Kaelion muttered.
But the magic didn't care what he planned.
It pulsed in his chest—hungry.
When the last wolf fell, they stood in silence again, breath heavy, fog curling around their bodies like smoke.
Evren looked over at Kaelion. "Still think you don't rely on me?"
Kaelion's eyes didn't soften.
But his voice did. Barely.
"I think you're the only one who sees what I'm trying not to become."
And then he walked on.
Leaving Evren alone with that sentence.
And the bond tightening, just a little more.