“I must say, this little food adventure has been tremendous fun, wouldn’t you agree?” Zeya remarked as they strolled side by side back through the pace gate. “Though between us, I’m starting to think it wasn’t just the noodles that stole the evening… might’ve been something else.”

  He gave Sein a quick sidelong gnce, then added with a sheepish grin, “I mean the fvours were bold, delectable, unexpected. Utterly delightful. The noodles, I mean. Quite the experience, really.”

  “Yes. It’s been very pleasant and surprisingly illuminating,” Sein responded with a warm smile. “Both the food and the company.”

  Zeya flicked a gnce at her, trying to gauge her expression. She seemed sincere and that sent a sudden jolt of delight through his chest.

  “Perhaps we can venture out again another time. Naturally, for research purposes. You know, for future culinary diplomacy.”

  “Of course!” Sein chuckled. “I’d like that very much.”

  That night, Zeya slipped beneath the covers with a curious warmth still lingering in his chest. It wasn’t the usual satisfaction of having accomplished duties or fulfilled obligations. It was unfamiliar and unsettling.

  He repyed moments from the evening with Sein, the way her eyes had lit up, the effortless rhythm of their conversation. Was this contentment? The kind born of true companionship? Perhaps he had simply enjoyed the company of someone who saw him, not the prince. Or had something else quietly taken root, something far more dangerous to his carefully ordered world?

  He exhaled, letting the thoughts drift, not wishing to cling to them. Whatever it was, it had to be contained.

  After an early morning run and a training session with Thura, Zeya headed back to the royal quarters to join his mother for morning tea. As he was about to step indoors, a sudden shift in the sky caught his eye. A slither of sunlight broke through, piercing the thick woolly bnket of low clouds.

  He stopped, watching as the rolling grey yers thinned in pces, giving way to serene patches of deep blue beyond. In that moment, a golden ray fell directly on him. Its warmth touched his skin like the caress of hands, comforting, but brief. Then, as quickly as it came, the clouds knitted back together, and the world dulled once more.

  Emotions, Zeya thought, were much like the sky, ever-changing and difficult to grasp. The day before felt distant and blurry, like a dream plucked from his own imagination. He had never spent a whole evening with a dy before. A whole evening of enjoyment. Enjoyment that felt light-hearted and free of judgement.

  Now the fresh air and exercise had brought his mind solidly back to reality. His role. His responsibilities. His path.

  Zeya stepped through the sliding door, which glided shut behind him with barely a sound, seemingly drawn closed by an unseen force. He gave a courteous nod of the head to the dy-in-waiting who curtsied.

  Queen Opame’s private room was decorated in the minimalistic style of the Northern Kingdom. The rge expanse of floor was covered with a patchwork of beautifully woven straw mat, providing a cool, comfortable feel underfoot. A square, low wooden table dominated the room, imparting the delicate scent of cypress and cedar. It was surrounded by floor seats with gently curved backs.

  The Queen sat with her legs tucked beneath her, dressed in an ornate silk robe and long skirt. She appeared at ease, her hair simply tied. Her chin lifted and eyes shone as Zeya approached.

  “Morning Zeya.”

  Zeya seated himself opposite her, beside an alcove where a hanging scroll dispyed an eborate Northern Kingdom script, which loosely transted as: “Where the heart settles; it is home.” Beneath it stood a tall vase holding the st of the season’s pure white lilies.

  “Morning Mama. You’re looking lovely as always. I trust you slept well.”

  “I did, Zeya. And you? Have you just come from training?”

  “Yes, apologies for the state of my appearance. I’ve got more training with Uncle Ray after this and to be honest, I’d much rather spend time chatting with you than fuss about changing in between,” Zeya replied, leaning forward and resting both his elbows on the table.

  “That’s quite alright. But I’ve noticed you’re with Uncle Ray nearly every day now. Is all that training truly necessary? I just worry it’s taking more from you than it is giving back.”

  “I really must keep up with training every day. It matters to me. Uncle Ray’s been brilliant, helping me strengthen both mind and body. And Lord Thura’s been guiding me with swordsmanship. I’d rather be a prince who can stand his ground, someone who can truly protect his people when it counts.”

  “I suppose as long as you’re happy,” Queen Opame remarked.

  She motioned for the serving girl to leave and reached for the teapot to pour the tea for Zeya.

  “Khin Yu tells me you’re intent on learning the Southern Delta nguage in order for you to converse fluently with Princess Nanda.”

  “Well, I suppose I ought to be able to string a sentence together, you know, beyond hello and how are you,” Zeya responded cautiously.

  “Oh, that is rather noble of you, Zeya. The effort to learn her nguage, it speaks volumes, far more than flowers or poetry ever could. A sign of genuine thoughtfulness, and a most charming kind of respect. Your father knew only a few words of my nguage when we married. He’s probably forgotten them by now, since he’s not had to use them much. Still, he did have the sense to furnish this room with a few comforts from my home. I suppose that was his version of a gesture,” Queen Opame said with an air of mencholy.

  Then her face masked her emotions, as she continued, “Very well, we’ll find someone to help you. Their nguage, as I understand it, is devilishly complex. Their sentence structure is nothing like ours, quite the puzzle, really. If anyone is determined enough to master it, I should think it’s you.”

  Her eyes flicked to her dy-in-waiting who stood discreetly by the door. The woman understood the ‘look’ and bowed her head in acknowledgement.

  “Khin Yu also mentioned you rather like the idea of meeting Princess Nanda in person before-“

  “All I meant was,” Zeya interrupted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the topic.

  His wish to meet Princess Nanda was now the st thing on his mind.

  “It might be rather nice to meet her before the ceremony just so we’re not complete strangers on the day. Of course, there’s no rush.”

  He sipped his tea, noting to himself he must be more careful with what he told Khin Yu. Had Khin Yu mentioned his friendship with Sein? He didn’t think his mother would approve.

  “Your marriage ceremony will be held here. That, we’ve already agreed on. If you’re keen to meet Princess Nanda beforehand, we can likely arrange for you to travel to the Southern Delta and escort her back yourself.”

  Zeya nodded, sensing a slight tension from his mother. Not wishing to continue this conversation, he changed the subject, “There’s plenty of time to sort out the finer details. What I’m really keen on is hearing about your day. What’ve you got pnned this afternoon? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “I shall be joining your father shortly. We do have a few matters to go over before the ministers seize his attention completely. And I have my own agenda for the day, with Saryet. We shall be choosing the date for your birthday celebration. Hard to believe another year has passed.”

  “Naturally, we couldn’t possibly mark my birthday on the day itself. That would be far too straightforward. Best to wait for the grand alignment of stars and pnets. Heaven forbid we offend any spirits!”

  “You know how much following traditions and customs mean to your father, Zeya. It is how things are done, how they have always been done and we are to follow it,” Queen Opame reasoned, understanding his frustrations.

  Then her face brightened as she continued, “And this afternoon, I shall be with my grandchildren. They are still at that glorious age where everything is marvellous and nothing requires negotiation. I must savour it while I can.”

  “Good for you, Mama. Nu Nu mentioned that little Hein Soe has began taking his first steps.”

  “Indeed. Utterly adorable. Just like you were at that age, wide-eyed and full of wonder. My absolute darling then and still.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a little boy anymore. I’ll be eighteen next week.”

  “I am aware you are no longer little. I see a fine young man before me. Watching you grow and mature, it’s something I cherish. You mustn’t be too eager to grow up. Reserve some of that pyful youthfulness you possess.”

  “Absolutely, where’s the fun in being utterly serious all the time.”

  “You’ve always had a good heart. Don’t lose it.”

  Zeya grinned. It was comforting to know his mother adored him. For her at least, he didn’t have to try very hard for approval or praises. She accepted him with all his fws.

  That afternoon, Zeya chose not to visit the Archives. He needed some distance from Sein, and from the pull she seemed to have on him. It was a small challenge he set for himself, to measure how well he was able to control his feelings.

  A Court schor he was familiar with, had once advised him to be wary of attachment. When you cling, release; when you flee, turn and face it. Such practices, he’d said, were the only refuge from the inevitable suffering of being human. And Zeya, despite his position and privileges, knew that ache well. Power, he had. Agency, he cked. It was like owning a bde of legend but having no permission to wield it. Yet. That would come with time.

  “I’m heading to the training grounds early,” Zeya announced to Khin Yu.

  “Will Your Highness be studying at the Archives today?”

  “No, I’m giving myself a bit of a break. Shocking I know but I figured if I keep studying everyday, I might accidentally become my own master and where’s the fun in that?” Then wishing to be alone, Zeya added, “Khin Yu, why don’t you stay here a while? Perhaps enjoy a quiet stroll through the garden. Take a little time for yourself. Follow my example.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I think I’ll fly solo for a bit. Don’t worry, I’ll try not to get into too much trouble without you.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness,” Khin Yu said with a bow.

  Zeya called out as he stepped through the door, “Do keep the nest warm, will you!”

  He strolled briskly to the outermost edge of the pace grounds. The training arena occupied a vast stretch of nd, framed by a line of towering, well-trimmed cypress. A levelled field of fine sand, raked diligently each morning by trainee warriors, formed its heart.

  Here, under the sharp eyes of seasoned warriors, the arts of swordpy, archery, and unarmed combat were practiced. The ground bore footprints of ambition, of discipline, of dreams both forged and broken. Respect and reputation were built, earning the men status in the social ranking of the court.

  Zeya approached the field, taking in the familiar sight and sounds of drills, the csh of steel and whizzing of arrows. Overhead, dozens of sun-bleached banners fluttered in the breeze. The wind was picking up, a sign rain would come, and with it, relief.

  But for now, a heavy stillness clung to him, the air dense with humidity. He raked his hand through his hair as he scanned the men practicing drills on stationery targets. He spotted a few faces he knew but Thura was not one.

  A loud shout from the perimeter interrupted his thoughts. Zeya turned to find the source of the voice which came from a two-storey hall where martial lords and generals gathered to observe.

  Up on the terrace, surveying the grounds, stood Thura, surrounded by a familiar circle of comrades. One of the men, who Zeya recognised as General Lang, hurled another insult at a pair below who were engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

  Intending to join Thura, Zeya climbed the narrow outer staircase but as he reached the st few steps, he heard a conversation unfolding. Something about it made him pause just short of the nding.

  “Come now, Lord Thura, be a sport and introduce me to your sister. Word is she’s not betrothed yet. And by all accounts, she is the most enchanting dy in court.”

  Zeya recognised the voice of Lord Su, one of the younger lords who had worked his way into Thura’s group. He was strikingly good-looking, brimming with confidence and the kind of eagerness to impress that marked him out as a youth.

  “I am happy to make the introductions if Sein agrees to it,” Thura responded ftly.

  Zeya could tell he was reluctant.

  “She’s entirely her own person, and when it comes to choosing a partner, the decision will be hers alone. Recommendations and arranged meetings won’t sway her. Frankly, you’d do well to remember, she has little patience for pushy young lords.”

  “The trouble with you, Su,” General Lang’s voice was heard. “You’ve never quite grasped the art of elegant detachment. No dy fancies a loyal pup drooling at her toes. You’ve got to keep a bit of mystery. What a dy wants is someone worldly. Handsome and debonair. Someone who knows how to keep a woman intrigued. Naturally, I’m speaking from experience.”

  “I know a thing or two about what pleases a dy,” Lord Su defended.

  “I’m not talking about flowers or fttery. A young beauty like Lady Sein need a man with proper experience. Someone who can… handle her with finesse. Someone who truly knows how to keep her wanting more.”

  “Just watch your words, Lang. You’re talking about my sister,” Thura asserted.

  “General Lang, no dy of discernment is drawn to a well-worn tool, you know, one that’s been passed from hand to hand like common property. As the saying goes, even old cows prefer new grass,” Lord Su remarked.

  “And how does that apply in this situation?” General Lang asked puzzled, folding his arms.

  A couple of the men chuckled in amusement.

  “Old cow, new cow, who cares? The point is, they’re drawn to someone fresh and young, obviously like me. Someone she can get to know, in all the most… engaging ways.”

  Thura interrupted, “You better not be referring to my sister-”

  “Spirits! No, no, I wasn’t implying Lady Sein is a cow. I meant the saying, something about older dies and younger men. Or was it young dies and old men. Oh, never mind. Forget it!”

  General Lang burst into ughter and a few others joined him.

  “Right, you two, continue your discussions somewhere else. And keep my sister out of it,” Thura spoke up. “I need to watch the time. My session with the Crown Prince is starting shortly.”

  At this point, Zeya was about to continue his ascent when General Lang’s voice drifted over, casual but pointed, “You’re quite fond of our young prince, aren't you?”

  He gave Thura a hearty pat on the back.

  “He’s a curious character. With status, power and prestige, he could have his pick of the dies, even if he resembled the backside of my horse. But no, the spirits have granted him good looks on top of it all. Luck is never doled out evenly, I tell you. Which means he could have half the court, if he wishes. You've seen how they fawn over him. My younger sisters can’t stop talking about him. And from what I’ve heard, he’s rather set on remaining loyal to his betrothed. Remarkable restraint, if it’s true.”

  “It’s admirable, in my opinion,” Thura commented. “Obviously, the Crown Prince has a sense of principle and moral grounding, unlike some people.”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge, Thura. Technically, you’re not married until the vows are exchanged. So why’s our prince acting like a bashful monk?” General Lang chuckled, rubbing his bearded chin. “In my case, I can’t help it if women keep throwing themselves at me. I oblige them accordingly. However, I suspect our dear prince is a bit like you, Su, a shiny new tool, still yet to see the light of day, with no clue how to handle a dy.”

  “Lang, let me remind you again, watch your words,” Thura warned.

  Zeya turned and descended the stairs slowly, aware that his presence would not be welcomed. General Lang’s words echoed in his mind. It was true, he cked experience with women, and that grated more than he cared to admit. At least he could count on Thura to stand up for him. That thought seemed to ease the sting.

  After days immersed in meetings, obligations and rigorous training, Zeya finally felt more like his old self again. Grounded and measured. His mind was no longer clouded by longing he dared not name.

  To test the resolve he had rebuilt, he lightly jogged to the Archives in the afternoon, only to find it empty.

  Sein was always there at this hour. Always. Her absence struck him like a gust of wind through an open corridor, unexpected and cold. He lingered, scanning the familiar shelves, as if the scrolls or the polished wooden ledges might reveal where she’d gone.

  The room held its usual scent of old parchment and cracked leather-bound books, familiar, yes, but lifeless. It cked that subtle, floral trace of something living. Of joy. Of her. He’d kept away nearly a week; perhaps, in his absence, her routine had shifted too. A hollow ache spread through his chest, as though the air had thinned and he was sinking slowly, silently, to the bottom of a vast ocean.

  “Zeya, hello!”

  It was Sein. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, as though she’d just come from a brisk walk. She had swept the train of her skirt over one arm as she strolled towards him, her face radiating a brilliant smile.

  A sense of ease washed over Zeya as he responded, “Sein, there you are.”

  “Have you been busy? I haven’t seen you nearly all week.”

  “Yes, it has been quite a week, actually. One of those that doesn’t seem to slow down,” Zeya replied, his gaze resting on her as if the sight were a much-needed balm for the eyes. “How are you?”

  He gnced briefly at the book in her hand.

  “And what’ve you been doing?”

  “I’ve been trying to keep myself entertained. Today, I thought I’d try identifying some of the pnts in the garden using this book.”

  “So then what have you uncovered?”

  “It seems we have a staggering array of annuals, perennials, trees, shrubs and roses.”

  “I assume that’s pnt nguage you’re speaking. I caught ‘roses’ and lost the rest somewhere in the shrubbery.”

  “I’ve no doubt you’ll catch onto Botanical speak soon enough,” Sein said with a pyful note. “But I will say this, you’ve clearly neglected your studies this week. What’s kept you? Rehearsing the delicate dance of negotiating with warlords?”

  “Ah, that? I’ve graduated with flying colours since my footwork is on point. Though I must admit, pirouettes are still problematic,” Zeya responded, failing to contain his grin. “Actually, I thought it was about time I brushed up on the Northern Kingdom’s script. I can speak it well enough but it’s rather awkward receiving letters you can’t actually read, especially when they’re from my retives."

  “Their script look to be challenging. I can imagine it’ll take a lot of practice to be able to read, let alone write.”

  “I’ll leave the writing for another time. For now, I’m simply focusing on reading. It gives me a clearer sense of how they communicate. So direct, so deliberate.”

  “It’s so true. I came across a book on their culture the other day. There doesn’t seem to be much emphasis on social hierarchy or formal etiquette. It’s rather fascinating how much it differs to ours. I suppose you already know this.”

  “I’ll confess, I know a little but far from everything. Would you be willing to share what you’ve discovered?”

  “I will.” Sein looked delighted, then she added, “Only if you’ll teach me a little of the nguage.”

  “I shall do my best. Dits ettay.” Zeya indicated for Sein to sit at the nearest table, pulling a chair out for her.

  “What does that mean?”

  Zeya sat opposite and replied, “It means, do sit.”

  “Dits ettay.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Will you teach me something else.”

  “Bruta tano ray? That is, how are you?”

  “Bruta tano ray?”

  “Excellent. Try, mano satey rein.”

  “Mano satey rein,” Sein repeated.

  Zeya tried to stifle a chuckle.

  “What am I saying exactly?” Sein asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  “I am a potato.”

  “Zeya Arkar!” Sein excimed, casting a stern look. “I think you’re enjoying yourself at my expense.”

  “Mano sin-kan. That mean’s I apologise,” Zeya said, with mock solemnity. “Ma-chit satey rein.”

  “Now what are you saying?”

  “I love potatoes,” Zeya decred earnestly, pcing a hand over his heart. “Truly I mean it. I do love potatoes.”

  He ughed, the sound freeing some invisible weight from his chest. He hadn’t realised how much tension he was carrying until it began to ease. Sharing this moment and making her smile felt effortless and natural. It lifted his spirits. It was like the golden ray of sun warming his face.

  “Mano brin-noy,” he murmured softly.

  “And what does that mean? Are you teaching me inappropriate words?”

  “Would you care to learn some insults?”

  “Totally,” Sein replied, straightening her back. “But what does ‘mano brin-noy’ mean exactly?”

  “I am happy.”

  Sein held his gaze and repeated, “Mano brin-noy.”

  The way she spoke the words, so tender and so certain, unsettled Zeya. Emotions he thought he’d mastered were beginning to unravel, leaving him exposed in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He was sure she meant those words.

  And the way she looked at him… did she have feelings for him? Or was he imagining it?

  Love, desire, even longing—those were distractions he couldn’t entertain. His engagement to Princess Nanda was set. In eighteen months’ time, he would be married. A prince. A husband. A father. And eventually a King.

  However, there were moments like this when a part of him wondered what it might be like to choose for himself, to follow his own heart rather than walk the path id out by his father and the stars. But those were just passing thoughts. Fleeting and dangerous. He told himself he was content with being just her friend. He had to be.