“How is my favourite nephew this morning?” a voice called out. It was Lord Ray, the King’s younger brother.

  Zeya was lounging on the daybed after breakfast, idly leafing through a book gifted by one of his Northern cousins for his birthday. It was titled ‘How to Please a Woman’. The text remained a challenge, given his shaky grasp of the Northern script, but the illustrations required no transtion.

  Golden light filtered through the shutters, lighting his features just as he looked up. Spotting his uncle, he promptly shut the book and stuffed it beneath the cushion with all the nonchance he could muster.

  Tall and well-proportioned, Lord Ray still bore the fine looks of youth. Like the King, he had piercing hazel eyes and brown hair, always impeccably styled, and a neatly trimmed beard. Many often remarked he was the very image of his elder brother in his younger days.

  “Have you recovered from yesterday’s celebrations?” Lord Ray enquired, his tone lighthearted but sincere.

  He approached Zeya with an easy smile, cutting a sharp figure in finely tailored garments that complemented his build. There was something about his unmistakable elegance and self assurance that Zeya couldn’t help but look up to.

  “I’m well and yes, just about recovered. It was quite the day and I must admit, I didn’t know we had this many lords and dies in the kingdom. By the time I’d danced with half the pavilion, I began to suspect we’d started admitting guests from neighbouring realms, you know, just to keep me on my feet.”

  Lord Ray slid onto the daybed, one hand flicking the long tail of his jacket aside before sinking into the cushions. He stretched one arm along the carved wooden backrest, fingers leisurely tracing its edge, while the other rested loosely in his p.

  “Ah, it may seem rather tiresome; the endless parade of lords, dies, and what appears to be the entire Northern Kingdom court! But do try flipping it on its head, my dear Zeya. Take it as a compliment of the highest order. You are, whether you like it or not, rather beloved and widely admired.”

  At this point, Saw Win entered, having heard Lord Ray’s voice within the apartment.

  With a respectful bow, he inquired, “Your Highness, Lord Ray, shall I bring in some tea and a little something to go with it?”

  “That would be delightful, Saw Win,” Lord Ray spoke up with a quick nod of his head before resuming, “Now, between us, Zeya, I do think your father may have gone a touch overboard this year but honestly, who could bme him? He’s bursting with pride. And this whole extravagant dispy? It’s him showing the world the man his son has become. And quite the man, at that."

  “Uncle, you do have a wonderful knack of seeing the positive in everything.”

  In his own mind, Zeya couldn’t quite let those words settle. The idea of his father bursting with pride felt entirely out of pce. After the mounted archery dispy, the King hadn’t offered a single remark on his performance.

  Instead, he’d merely said, “Give equal courtesy to our own officials and those visiting from abroad. Let there be no signs of preference. Every guest is to feel welcome in this pace.”

  Lord Ray studied his nephew closely and picking up on his pensive mood, he offered, “Far better to focus on the good than stew in the miserable bits, or so they say. I, naturally, chose the scenic route through despair, self-pity, and melodrama before discovering that, yes, the thoughts you entertain become your truths. Learn from my experience. Now then, shall we shelve the martial madness this morning and turn our minds to something a little more invigorating? What say you?”

  “I’ve no objections if you’re pnning something outrageous.”

  “Outrageous!” Lord Ray chuckled, his posture straightening. Then leaping off the daybed, he decred, “Well, I shall try not to disappoint. Come now, let us escape into nature, if only for a while. Khin Yu is outside. I shall instruct him to prepare our horses and accompany us. A modest expedition, yes, but ours alone. Something to soothe the spirit and give the mind a breath of fresh air. And don’t worry, I have already cleared your schedule for the day.”

  “How about morning tea?”

  “Why linger when action beckons? We shall make it up to dear Saw Win on our return. Put on a cape, nothing too splendid. We’re aiming for inconspicuous, something that says ‘humble traveller’ rather than ‘dashing young prince’.”

  Catching his uncle’s enthusiasm, Zeya stood to attention with a grin. He hurried into his bedchamber to find simpler clothes and a cloak. It was comforting to know he could count on his uncle to sense when a diversion was needed.

  Lord Ray had an uncanny ability to appear just when the steam of motivation began to wane. More than that, his uncle always gave him permission, subtle but unmistakable, to loosen the grip of duty, to think beyond the pace walls, and to remember that he still had some measure of agency in a life so often dictated by others.

  Without dey, Zeya and Lord Ray joined Khin Yu at the pace stables. Moments ter, they were riding at full gallop beyond the city walls, bound for the north-western mountains, their path trailing dust as the capital vanished behind them.

  By mid-morning, they’d reached the picturesque valleys of Hsat-shina. Here, the bustle of city life seemed an age away. Hsat-shina felt hidden, tucked away from the rest of the world like a secret, its beauty raw and reserved for those who took the trouble to find it.

  “Where are we?” Zeya asked, ambling next to Lord Ray. “The scenery is breathtaking.”

  The air smelt of pine and damp earth, tinged occasionally with woodsmoke from nearby homes. The stone houses, with steep roofs and carved wooden balconies, dotted the ndscape, some weathered with age, others restored in tones reflecting nature.

  “We have stumbled upon a jewel, neatly wedged between the western mountains and Penden waters. Breathe in the fresh air, dear Zeya,” Lord Ray remarked, gncing at his nephew. “Hardly anyone ventures this far which gives this pce its appeal.”

  “There is a reason why people avoid this area,” Khin Yu spoke up, prompting the men to ease their pace until their horses moved in step beside one another.

  “Ah, that old tale,” Lord Ray remarked.

  “Hmmm,” Khin Yu acknowledged.

  “What old tale? I’d very much like to hear it, Khin Yu,” Zeya said, curiosity stirring.

  “It is said many centuries ago, a royal pilgrimage vanished in these mountains during a sacred journey,” Khin Yu began, his gaze drifting towards the jagged peaks in the distance. “Since then, other travelling parties have disappeared without a trace, and the route was gradually abandoned.”

  “Do we know what became of them?”

  “Their remains were only found generations ter, I believe.”

  “No one truly knows what happened to them,” Lord Ray continued the tale. “Some believe it was due to a curse pced on the nd by a disgruntled spirit when its temple was desecrated. Others insist it was the doing of the restless dead. Local vilgers still speak of ghostly processions seen by moonlight every hundred years.”

  “What do you believe, Uncle?” Zeya asked, sensing his skeptic tone.

  “I make a habit of keeping an open mind. It’s terribly useful in situations like these. Those who discovered the remains insist the bones were arranged in ritual formations, which, one might argue, suggest a touch less meddling spirits… and a touch more calcuted malice of the human variety.”

  “How about you, Khin Yu? What’re your thoughts?”

  “Hsat-shina is full of cursed tales. It is what deters people from crossing the range and as a result, protects our western borders,” Khin Yu commented. “I prefer to avoid it myself unless necessary.”

  “Quite so, Khin Yu. Let there be hundreds of spirits roaming these mountains. The more the merrier, if it keeps invaders at bay and preserves vilges like this one from outside influences,” Lord Ray decred, dismounting from his horse.

  They had reached the end of the road, where it simply stopped. Ahead y the expanse of unduting valleys, patchwork of meadows, lush and untamed, where wildflowers such as delicate blue gentians, the fern-like foliage of wild carrots, and the cheerful yellow primus wove through the grass in dense, wind-tossed tangles.

  “There’s a welcome coolness in the air here,” Zeya observed, pulling the ends of his cape together. “I’m gd you suggested this.”

  “Ah, yes, the weather does love a bit of drama here. One moment it smiles, the next it sends an icy breath down the valley. No matter. We have a cape, a sword, and rather stubborn enthusiasm. We are prepared for anything,” Lord Ray commented with a broad grin. “Shall we make our way to the Blue Lake? It is, after all, why we’re here.”

  “Not the Blue Lake?” Khin Yu mumbled, as he took Zeya’s reins and eased the girth strap, giving the horse a chance to breathe. The other horses fell in behind, obedient to their natural hierarchy.

  “What’s this now? No one’s told me anything about blue kes or deadly mountains. Why am I always the st to know these things?” Zeya asked, slightly exasperated.

  It stirred something familiar, that old ache of watching ughter and mischief blooming just out of reach. He was always nearby but never quite within, like an outsider longing to step into the noise, the fun and the magic of freedom.

  “Tell me, what mystery is attached to the Blue Lake?”

  “It is not a mystery, Your Highness. The Blue Lake is thought to reflect the true soul of those who gaze into it. Some go mad, others enlightened.”

  “Will you dare gaze into it, Zeya?” Lord Ray enquired, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  Zeya considered the question as he walked along the narrow dirt path, worn smooth by many travellers.

  “Has there been any evidence, credible or otherwise, of people losing their minds or reaching some form of enlightenment? I’d like to know before I commit to an answer.”

  “Don’t be concerned, Zeya. It is a convenient little legend to frighten off the faint-hearted, that’s all it is. I shall look straight into that ke myself and I promise you, I’ll come away neither mad nor mystically transformed,” Lord Ray responded with a chuckle.

  “Of course you have no knowledge of these tales. You missed the glorious chaos of teenage adventuring. While your cousins were gallivanting about on questionable excursions, you were diligently studying. But not to worry, we are making up for lost time splendidly. Now come, let’s enjoy the day. There is a marvellous little spot by the ke that serves the most heavenly dumplings.”

  “Now you’re speaking my nguage, Uncle. Are we talking Northern-style dumplings? The sort filled with meat or perhaps a bit of cheese?” Zeya asked eagerly, having worked up an appetite.

  “Even more delectable. These dumplings I speak of are practically the size of a small orange, generously stuffed with meat and fragrant herbs. And when you take that first bite… oh, the broth within! It spills out like some glorious, savoury surprise. Utterly indecent. Utterly perfect.”

  After spending a day away from pace life, Zeya felt revitalised. He spent the following week navigating the competing ambitions of those who shaped his future. Under his father’s vigint gaze, he took part in negotiating trade terms with an emissary from the Northern Kingdom. It was evident the King, though eager for his son to shoulder greater responsibility, was still unwilling to release the reins.

  The experience left Zeya feeling inadequate, realising his presence was more symbolic than needed. His sour mood lingered until a brief visit to the Archives, allowed him to arrange with Sein a time to take her to the vegetable garden. It was the only spsh of colour in an otherwise grey and grinding week.

  The rest of the time, he drove himself relentlessly, partly to please his uncle, partly as penance for falling short in his father’s eyes. He trained until every sinew burned with fatigue, but the effort was not without reward; he was making progress.

  At Lord Ray’s suggestion, he also began colborating with Lord Cetan on military strategies and devising mock battles to train the men. Cetan was easy company, calm and competent, and Zeya took to him at once. He enjoyed their pnning and staging but with little real experience and much to prove, he knew respect must be earned, not inherited.

  That afternoon, as Zeya made his way to meet Sein at the vegetable garden, fragments of his earlier conversation with Cetan echoed in his mind. Despite Cetan’s broad shoulders and rugged charm, he was clearly sensitive and had far more experience in matters of the heart than Zeya.

  A passing remark about retionships had turned unexpectedly thoughtful, with Cetan saying, “There are often limits on the love we hope to receive, but none at all on the love we choose to give.”

  With the thought still lingering, Zeya met Sein and held the gate open, allowing her to pass beneath the arched entrance. A sweet breath of jasmine greeted them, the flowering vine crowned the archway above their heads.

  “Here’s the vegetable patch as promised,” he announced.

  “I had no idea the pace grew so much food. All this has been hidden behind those walls I never thought to look,” Sein remarked, clearly surprised at the sight. “I wonder what’s grown here.”

  “I’ve been reliably informed by Saw Win, who is well acquainted with many of the dies in the kitchen that we grow just about everything we consume at the pace. The herb section you seek is along the garden borders. Look, just over there.”

  “Let’s head there first. But I’d like a chance to have a good look around the whole pce.”

  Sein bent slightly to scoop up the train of silk flowing behind her skirt.

  “May I?”

  Zeya stepped forward, wishing to assist. He’d seen the dies-in-waiting carry his sister’s long train through the gardens before, no doubt to keep it from catching leaves and getting stained by the grass.

  He carefully lifted the fabric and draped it over one forearm as he asked, “Are you hunting down that charming little herb with the ominous bck berries? The ones we assume poisoned Prince Amptu?”

  “No, I’m on a different mission,” Sein admitted, with a bright smile. “I read in the scrolls that herbs were once used to prepare the mind and body before battle.”

  “I'm curious to know, how were they actually made use of?” Zeya asked, frowning slightly.

  The idea was entirely new to him. Had it been a practice abandoned generations ago? he pondered.

  “Certain herbs are used to calm the mind, you know, to give one focus and crity. Others support the body, boosting stamina and strength, while some are essential for recovery and healing. And of course, there are others that are… um… somewhat… like an aphrodisiac.”

  “I see. And is that what you’re seeking?” Zeya raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  “No, not for that,” Sein said quickly, a faint blush rising. “I’m curious to see what is grown here. If I can find the right herbs, I’d like to make a balm to help you with recovery after training.”

  “Dare I ask, was it me you were thinking about, or merely my body?”

  Teasing was part of Zeya’s defence mechanism. It was the only way he knew how to quell the bubbling joy from taking root. He couldn’t risk believing that Sein might truly care for him.

  She gazed back at him, ignoring his question and continued, “I know you train very hard. I’ve trained with Thura before so I know how brutal he must work you. You must be aching all over.”

  Again her perceptiveness surprised him. Did she really think about him that much? Or was it simply how she treated all her friends, with care and attention? He offered a half-smile.

  “I’m used to it to be honest. I had no idea Lord Thura trained you.”

  He instinctively stretched out his arm across his body, finding it tight from the exercise that morning.

  “It’s nothing. Just a bit of fun.”

  “Truly, I’m impressed if you’ve been following any of your brother’s training regime,” Zeya said with genuine admiration.

  Wishing to make clear that he wasn’t among those at court who frowned upon a dy training her body, he added softly, “I approve entirely. You’re quite extraordinary.”

  It was always a pleasure to make Sein smile.

  They continued their stroll through the vegetable garden, making their way towards a grove where mango trees hung heavy with the new season’s fruit. He made a mental note to reserve the best mangos for Sein when the tiny fruits swelled and turned golden yellow. A promise to her must be fulfilled at all costs, which meant he must rely on Saw Win to organise it.

  Their conversation was soon interrupted when a couple of serving girls, busy picking vegetables, appeared up ahead. At Sein’s insistence they hid, squeezing behind a tree together, until they had passed out of sight.

  Zeya found himself wondering whether Sein was right to be cautious. Would others truly see them as more than friends? He suspected she might be right. There was always some specution about every dy he’d ever danced with as though he were one of those lords who took advantage of his status.

  He had no intention of exposing Sein to that kind of talk, yet he still found himself prodding for a reaction. For some reason he wanted her to acknowledge it, to admit that people might very well see them as lovers.

  Their conversation was once again stalled when they heard the sounds of children in the garden. Moments ter they saw his sister, Princess Nu H, approaching, while her children ran wildly across the wn.

  Zeya recognised the moment as a chance to introduce Sein to his sister. He’d always regarded Nu H as a sharp judge of character, and the ever-present tug of wanting his family’s approval of his friends compelled him to act. Curiously, Sein seemed hesitant about the introduction, but he’d nudged the encounter to take pce all the same.

  To his relief, Nu H didn’t disappoint; her warmth and easy manner, he hoped, eased Sein’s reluctance. And Zeya could tell his sister approved of Sein, her smile left no doubt as she said to her, “I am pleased my brother has made a good friend. I have not seen him this happy in a long while.”

  Zeya was taken aback by her words. Was it that obvious?

  Noting her brother’s unspoken wish for a moment alone with Sein, Princess Nu H offered a gracious smile, “Very well, I shall leave you to enjoy the garden. Lady Sein, I hope we will meet again. Zeya, do take care of your friend.”

  “Absolutely,” Zeya responded, though her final remark left him uneasy.

  What was his sister really trying to say? Was it a gentle warning? One of those veiled reminders to keep certain friendships discreet. It was the sort of thing that irritated him about their etiquette: nothing was ever said outright. Unlike his Northern retives, who spoke pinly and left no room for doubt. With them, at least, he always knew where he stood.

  Zeya led Sein to the herb borders where her excitement grew at the sight of the pnts she’d hoped to harvest. Together, they picked the small daisy-like blooms with white petals and yellow centres, along with others that resembled miniature sunflowers.

  Once their task was complete, they meandered beneath the towering camphor trees, their thick trunks mottled with moss and lichen. In the crevices of the bark, tiny pnts clung on, thriving in spite of the odds.

  Zeya’s steps slowed as they neared one camphor in particur; the tallest and grandest of them all, with vast branches stretching overhead to form a living canopy. The afternoon sun filtered through, dappling the lush grass in shifting patterns. The air was warm but the light breeze took the edge off the humidity. The hum of cicadas and the occasional call of a hidden bird accompanied the rustling of leaves.

  Spotting something of interest, Zeya reached out to stroke one of the tiny pnts clinging to the bark as he said, “How curious this little hairy pnt is growing here.”

  Sein surprised him by seizing his outstretched hand and said, “It looks like a type of Urticaceae. I think it’s a stinger pnt.”

  He had no idea what urticaceae meant but he couldn’t focus on anything beyond the fact that she was still holding his hand. Her touch was delicate, yet certain, and somehow that unsettled him more than any sting could.

  For one thing, when he danced with dies, he’d always worn gloves, as propriety demanded. He’d never truly felt someone else’s skin against his. Not for a long time.

  Noticing his gaze, Sein pulled her hand back and quickly said, “Pardon me. I didn’t want you to get stung,”

  “Much appreciated. Is the sting from this pnt lethal?” Zeya asked, barely containing the smile threatening to surface.

  The fact that she’d instinctively reached out to shield him—it was a small thing, but it made him absurdly happy.

  “No but it’s described as being very unpleasant. It doesn’t usually grow on trees. I’m surprised to see it here,” Sein responded, briskly walking to a nearby tree to examine it. “I didn’t think it can grow on a tree trunk.”

  “Perhaps a freak of nature,” Zeya remarked, hands tucked behind his back as he watched Sein with quiet delight. “Now what are you searching for?”

  He trailed after her at an unhurried pace while she zigzagged through the trees, bending low to study each trunk like a determined forager on a mission.

  Sein paused and gnced at him. “I’m looking for the antidote pnt. It’s suppose to grow near the stinger, according to my research,” she expined. “The leaves are crushed into a paste to relieve the sting. It looks like a weed.”

  “A weed? What does this weed look like?”

  “It’s such an unassuming little pnt, really, with broad, oval-shaped leaves, slightly crinkled at the edges. It grows low to the ground in a sort of rosette, usually near paths or hedges, though I suspect the gardeners may have been too thorough and cleared it all away.”

  Zeya followed as Sein scoured the grass searching for the pnt. Soon, they spread out to cover more ground. He veered towards the tall hedgerow that bordered the gardens, and there tucked near its base, he spotted the pnt she’d described. Sein was too far to call over, so he carefully picked a single leaf to bring back for her to identify.

  “Is this what you speak of?” Zeya asked, returning to her side.

  He took her hand without hesitation, ying the broadleaf gently in her open palm. He should have let go. But he didn’t. Somehow, it felt perfectly natural, holding her hand and Sein, to his relief, made no move to pull away.

  “Yes, where did you find it?” Sein spoke up, gazing into his eyes.

  “It was near the hedge,” Zeya responded, intently observing her. “Would you like me to show you where it was?” Sein nodded. “Come with me.”

  His heart was somewhat like a tender young sapling, eager to stretch towards the light and offer its blossoms freely. Surely, he could show Sein the same care and attentiveness he would give a cherished friend. It felt only right to make her feel appreciated, to let her know she held a meaningful pce in his world.

  But continuing to hold her hand, that felt like more than friendship, and he feared he’d overstepped. A flicker of shame rose in him, and he gently let go before turning towards the hedge where he’d found the broadleaf.

  “I rather like the idea that not all weeds are useless,” Zeya said thoughtfully, walking alongside Sein. “Some simply need to be understood to be appreciated properly. A bit like people, really.”

  “Totally, it’s only called a weed because someone decided it didn’t belong,” Sein agreed, fshing him a bright smile. “Personally, I think everything wild and a bit stubborn has its own kind of beauty.”

  “Then I shall have a word with the head gardener and make sure this little weed is officially protected. Under no circumstances to be pulled up or moved.” Zeya decred, casting her a sidelong gnce. “It belongs here now.”