Another year had passed and Zeya felt far older than his age. Since twelve, he’d been made acutely aware of his position and the expectations that came with it. While his male cousins were free to roam, pying games, stirring mischief, or heading off on wild adventures through the rural forests beyond the capital, Zeya’s days were spent in study and training. Any spare moments were filled with royal functions or family obligations.

  At the time, he had felt privileged to walk this path, believing it nobler than the carefree, aimless pursuits of the others. He had a purpose: to become the perfect prince. With three older sisters already leading lives of their own, Zeya had often wished the years would pass faster, that he might grow into someone worthy of his father’s pride.

  He resented being seen as the little boy his older cousins mocked. His pale eyes and dark hair, inherited from his mother, only deepened his sense of not quite belonging. Worst of all, as Crown Prince, everyone treated him with caution. Every gesture seemed rehearsed, every word carefully chosen. They all pyed a part, hoping to gain favour with the boy who would one day wear the crown.

  “Happy eighteenth year, Your Highness,” Saw Win greeted, entering the dining area.

  Zeya was seated at his usual pce at the table, still in his robes, arms folded behind his head. Saw Win approached with a tray of carefully arranged dishes, pride written across on face.

  “Much appreciated,” Zeya said, stretching out his arms and stifling a yawn. “My actual birthday was yesterday, but evidently the stars decided today was more appropriate for a celebration. Who am I to argue with that?”

  “Ah, yes, I did notice your birthday seem to change every year. Khin Yu said it was to ensure prosperity and peace or something like that. Well, if I had known before, I would have prepared this yesterday.”

  Saw Win pced the tray before Zeya, positioning it with care.

  “Saw Win, you do know the way to a man’s heart,” Zeya quipped, seeing the food in front of him.

  It was a traditional Northern Kingdom’s breakfast consisting of grilled fish, pickled vegetables, rice and a sour soup.

  “I haven’t eaten this breakfast since I was twelve!”

  “Princess Nu La mentioned to her dy-in-waiting that this was a favourite breakfast. Her dy-in-waiting and I are… you know, familiar with each other,” Saw Win said with a sly smile.

  “You’re remarkably well connected, Saw Win.”

  “I do my best,” Saw Win chuckled. “Did Your Highness do anything to celebrate yesterday?”

  “I did in fact,” Zeya replied, picking up the small bowl of soup and cupping it in both hands. “Supper with the entire family. My uncle, aunt, cousins, the whole lot. Absolute mayhem, really, with my nieces and nephew running about. But I prefer a bit of lively chaos to mundane formality any day.”

  Then the corner of his mouth curled as he reflected, “And I must admit, I allowed myself a small indulgence; an afternoon in the Archives with Lady Sein.”

  “Gd to hear it. All work and no py is not a healthy life.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Saw Win,” Zeya mused, taking small sips of the soup. “A bit of fun now and then is necessary. Otherwise, I fear I’ll become dreadfully dull and far too serious.”

  “For sure. We only have one life time so best to make the most of it,” Saw Win nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Talking about enjoyment, what would Your Highness like to wear for the party this evening?”

  He moved to retrieve the emptied soup bowl and positioned the rice closer to Zeya.

  “The soup’s excellent, Saw Win. Just the right touch of sourness in the broth. Beautifully banced,” Zeya complimented, pushing back in the chair. Then he added, “As for my clothing, I’ll leave it to your excellent taste. Whatever you think fit.”

  “Well, I was thinking a formal suit with a long jacket might be a little too ordinary since all the lords will be wearing it. Perhaps your military uniform might work better to show off your physique. Ladies have a soft spot for a man in uniform, I hear,” Saw Win suggested after some thought. “It may delight your Lady Sein.”

  Zeya arched an eyebrow as he swallowed a spoonful of rice, then remarked, “She’s not mine, and she never will be. Unlike most at court, she takes no interest in me that way. Though, I’ve observed, she does enjoy teasing me as much as I do her, which, frankly, is good fun.”

  “I came away thinking differently having met the dy,” Saw Win admitted, gncing at the wall as if recalling something to mind.

  “How so?”

  “It is the way her eyes light up in Your Highness’ presence. I have recently observed Lady Sein at court. She’s rarely animated and seldom smiling, even when speaking with the most dashing of lords. None of them seem to bring her the same joy.”

  “Are you suggesting she might actually enjoy my company and has succumbed to my irresistible charms?” Zeya jested with a sheepish grin, though in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but question, do I really make her happy? He recalled those words, ’mano brin-noy’ and how Sein had said them.

  “For sure,” Saw Win responded earnestly. “Lady Sein is very subtle in her admiration for Your Highness.”

  “You’re clearly picking up on something I’ve missed. Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea how she feels about me.”

  “She’s unlikely to reveal how she truly feels if she suspects those feelings aren’t mutual. Someone has to make the first move. I guess no one likes the idea of rejection. But if neither side dares to take a chance, then nothing ever begins.”

  “True enough,” Zeya agreed. “However, the stars and spirits have already settled the matter.”

  Why entertain hope when the reality will only break hearts? he wondered.

  Breathing in the delicate, smoky aroma of grilled fish, he intended on savouring the rest of his breakfast without lingering on the thought.

  They heard approaching footsteps and both knew at once, it was Khin Yu.

  Saw Win gave a bow.

  “Do take time to enjoy your day, Your Highness,” he said before taking his leave, just as Khin Yu arrived at the table.

  “Your Highness,” Khin Yu began after catching his breath. “Here is the schedule for the day as you requested, including a list of guests from the Northern Kingdom.”

  “Much appreciated.” Zeya gnced at the paper handed to him by Khin Yu, the ink still fresh and glistening on the sheet.

  The day would begin with morning prayers in the Royal Temple, where the high monks would chant ancient sutras and sprinkle him with blessed water drawn from the mountain springs of the Northern Hills. The water, sourced from a sacred peak, was said to be guarded by Spirit of Elements and was believed to prolong life. The proof, many cimed, could be seen in the ageless bearing of his uncle, Lord Ray, and several other retives who seemed to retain a youthful glow, untouched by time.

  After making his offerings to Spirit of War, he would proceed to the Audience Hall where the day’s performance began. Lords and Ladies from every corner of the realm would step forward bearing eborate gifts and well-practised lines of loyalty, with all the sincerity of seasoned actors auditioning for the favours of the future King.

  Before the midday banquet, the King had requested a demonstration of mounted archery at the training arena, repcing the informal mingling with his retives from the Northern Kingdom.

  Zeya and Thura had rehearsed it for weeks in secret: the sharp turns, the arrow flights, the final gallop where he would split the scarlet tassel of the bullseye in full stride. It was theatre, certainly, but necessary theatre, the kind that reminded the foreign dignitaries where strength still y. For Zeya, it was all in pursuit of one thing: to please his father.

  Once the royal party had indulged in endless courses of ceremonial delicacies, they would proceed to the Culture Hall, where schors would present their verses, children from the royal academy would perform choreographed dances, and court artists would unveil grand portraits of the prince.

  Zeya exhaled slowly, the weight of expectation pressing in. Come evening, the celebrations would move to the outdoor pavilion set up in the gardens, lit by hundreds of nterns. A show of shimmering dancers would weave between music and shadow while the guests enjoyed bite-sized treats. And once the alcohol began to flow, Zeya hoped the formalities would dissolve into something nearer to freedom. Perhaps if the spirits were generous, he’d be able to steal a quiet moment with Sein, maybe even a dance. That, at least, he could endure the day for.

  The reality of that evening was proving quite different to what Zeya had pictured. Surely, his parents had gone completely overboard this year. The sheer scale of the celebration shimmered with excess and wealth. Was it truly to honour his birthday or simply another dazzling dispy for the emissaries?

  He gazed at the endless sea of guests pouring into the vishly decorated pavilion, the space overflowing until they spilled beneath the stars, clustering along the ntern-lit garden paths. However, in all the splendour, Sein was nowhere to be seen.

  Zeya found himself constantly cornered by lords and dies as he worked through the crowd, offering polite greetings and exchanging pleasantries, all the while scanning for any sign of her.

  When the court’s musicians pyed their finest strings, couples took to the centre of the space. Zeya was expected to dance with the young dies who had eagerly surrounded him. Their suffocating presence, perfumes of sweet jasmine and heady vanil, was pervasive, impossible to ignore.

  He bowed his head at the nearest girl to him, who he recognised as one of Lord Lang’s sisters. She beamed, fluttering her long shes, evidently delighted to cim the first dance with the prince. Zeya cared little who he was dancing with, his hand held hers and his feet moved on autopilot. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere as he scanned the room, searching for Sein.

  “When I saw Your Highness shoot arrows this morning, it was such mastery and grace that one might say even the sun struggled to compete with such splendour,” the girl said, glowing with admiration.

  Zeya gave a polite smile and twirled her again and again, determined to keep her too dizzy to continue. It proved to have the opposite effect as she resumed with more clumsy compliments and giggled with delight.

  The next partner was unavoidable, a familiar fixture at court, one Zeya had long since earmarked for tactical evasion. But the music had begun and there was no escaping now.

  She clung to his arm, ughter like wind chimes in a storm, and with a tilt of her head, purred, “If ever Your Highness tire of court ceremonies and hollow halls, my chamber offers a pce of sanctuary and satisfaction no banquet can offer.”

  What could he say to that?

  Come now, do you honestly believe I’d have even the faintest interest in such an offer? I’d have to be quite out of my mind!

  He wished he could be direct. But that wouldn’t be the appropriate etiquette.

  Instead, he responded courteously, “You are most kind, Lady Yu. But I fear my mind is far too occupied with matters of state to seek out entertainment elsewhere. I appreciate your generous sentiment.”

  After the tenth partner, he’d reached his limit of tolerance and raked his hand through his hair. It was a secret signal, which Khin Yu knew well; it meant he required rescuing. As the music flowed once more and with no Khin Yu in sight, he had no choice but to offer his hand to the next dy in line.

  Where on earth are you, Khin Yu? Just when I need you most?

  At the end of the dance, he brushed his fingers through his hair again, and again, in an attempt to make the signal clear. To his relief, Khin Yu appeared shortly afterwards, just before the next song.

  “Pardon my interruptions. Your Highness is needed.”

  “Excuse me, my dy.”

  Zeya bowed his head to the girl who was about to seize his arm. She shot daggers at Khin Yu as the prince swiftly departed.

  Zeya carved a path through the throng, nodding politely and smiling graciously at various ministers and nobles. He caught sight of his parents; his father taking his mother’s hand as the King and Queen stepped into their first dance.

  A fine performance, as always, he mused. The perfect couple, so long as there’s an audience. If only the illusion held behind closed doors.

  When he neared the exit to the pavilion, Zeya turned to Khin Yu and said quietly, “I thought you’d abandoned me, Khin Yu.”

  “Apologies, Your Highness. I was caught up with an errand. I came as quickly as I could. How can I help?”

  “I simply need a moment to centre myself. I’ll slip outside for a bit. Do be so good as to see that no one follows, would you?”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  Zeya ducked beneath a silk drape and turned sharply away from the main thoroughfare while Khin Yu remained, keeping a watch.

  He made his way towards the edge of the pavilion, where the sculpted rockery y nestled among steady bamboos and flowering gardenias. The hum of the celebration dulled behind him, repced by the constant trickle of a small, cascading waterfall flowing gently over the rocks, feeding into a pond.

  He cast his eyes over the tranquil water, observing the numerous broad leaves of water lilies floating serenely. His attention drifted to two figures emerging from the gloom, walking side by side along the paved garden path, heading for the pavilion. The ntern lights didn’t quite reach them, but the moon’s generous illumination provided a soft glow on their features. He recognised them immediately.

  “Lord Hein, good evening,” he called out.

  Hearing the greeting, the pair veered off the path, crunching on pebbles to reach him. When they stood before him, the tall man bowed his head and returned, “Your Highness, many happy returns on your eighteenth year. Oh, and may I present my daughter, Lady Sein.”

  “Your Highness,” Sein greeted with a curtsy.

  Her face was half hidden by her father’s shadow but Zeya could tell she was smiling.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Lady Sein.”

  “Ah, Your Highness is already acquainted with Sein. Of course,” Lord Hein remarked, flicking a gnce at Sein.

  To his surprise, his daughter was smiling brightly and even more surprising, the smile was reflected on the Crown Prince’s face.

  Sensing the two young people wished to talk, he said, “Do excuse me, Your Highness. I am, no doubt, needed by my wife. See you inside, Sein.”

  When Lord Hein was out of earshot, Zeya enquired, “How are you, Sein?”

  “I’m very well,” Sein responded. “Happy eighteenth year.”

  “Much appreciated. You look… splendid this evening,” Zeya said, careful not to reveal the fuller truth.

  He thought she looked more than splendid, more than lovely even, but the word beautiful felt strangely intimate on his tongue.

  “You look… you look suitably like a charming prince. I congratute you on pying your part,” Sein returned pyfully, then swiftly asked, “Is today really your actual birthday?”

  “No, it was yesterday.”

  “Yesterday! But we were in the Archives yesterday. Why didn’t you say?”

  “I thought if I didn’t acknowledge it, I could keep my youthful glow for just one more day.”

  “Your anti-ageing strategy is clearly brilliant,” Sein chuckled. Then pretending to look serious, she deliberately scanned the surrounding and teased, “Why are you out here by yourself? Surely, the birthday boy is not avoiding the dies and lords wishing to shower him with affection.”

  “Well, you’ve caught me,” Zeya said, with palms up in a gesture of surrender. “So much for my great escape. A shame, really. I suppose the only fair penance would be for you to grant me a dance.”

  “Of course, but I wouldn’t dream of jumping the queue or else there’ll be daggers in my back,” Sein replied, half in jest, aware there would be many eager eyes fixed on the prince.

  The idea of being watched so closely while in his arms didn’t appeal, and she added, “I better join the back of the line. Though I’d imagine the night may end before it’s my turn.”

  Zeya realised only just then, there did seem to be a pre-arranged order to the dies dancing with him, a silent pecking order followed with almost military precision, known only to them.

  “In that case, I’d rather stay right here and enjoy the fresh air. It’s far more agreeable,” he decred, gazing up at the night sky.

  The moon was rising and it appeared to be a clear night. Sein followed his gaze and they both watched the faint sparkle of stars in comfortable silence. Zeya found himself longing for the crowd to vanish and for Sein to stay beside him just a little longer.

  He spoke up, “Tell me, what’ve you been doing today?”

  “You know, the usual nonsense,” Sein responded, with a sheepish smile. “I’ve now progressed to studying herbs. Unfortunately there are none growing in the garden.”

  “You might have better luck at the vegetable patch.”

  “Vegetable patch? Where on earth is that?”

  “It’s within the pace grounds. Would you like me to take you there next week? We can explore it together,” Zeya suggested.

  “Yes, I’d like that very much,” Sein replied, her eyes sparkling with delight. Then observing him, she commented, “You must be exhausted after a full day of polite conversations and endless smiling. And being paraded around like a royal mascot.”

  “Is it that obvious?” Zeya asked, a faint smile pying on his lips. “And here I thought I’d worn the mask convincingly.”

  Her perceptiveness surprised him. She was more attuned to him than he’d realised.

  “It’s a winning act, but I can see through it. But I’ll have to say, I did enjoy watching you this morning at the training arena. Thura mentioned you’d been practicing and it really showed. It was genuinely impressive. Your aim was incredible and your timing was sharp. That takes real discipline.”

  “Well, I do aim to delight my audience,” Zeya said with a chuckle, trying desperately to hide his pure pleasure at her words. “It’s been rather good fun putting on a show. If my princely career ever fall through, I daresay I might have a future on stage, don’t you think?”

  Sein ughed; the delightful sound was both gratifying and soothing. Before she could respond, their conversation was interrupted by a voice calling out, “Zeya, darling! There you are.”

  Heels striking the paved path brought Lady Chesa before them. She was the King’s younger sister, tall and slender, dressed in eborate yers of silk and a shimmering cape. Sein was well acquainted with her, as her husband was Sein’s father’s older brother.

  “Oh hello, Sein darling.”

  Lady Chesa’s eyes swept over Sein, sharp and assessing. Then her expression softened as if Sein had passed some silent inspection.

  “Lady Chesa,” Sein greeted with a curtsy.

  Lady Chesa smiled then turned her focus on Zeya as she asked, “What in the spirits are you doing out here?”

  “We were just taking a moment to admire the clear sky. Perfect evening for fireworks, wouldn’t you say?” Zeya responded.

  “Indeed, divine,” Lady Chesa mumbled, gncing skyward. “Is that a hint for the finale this evening?”

  “I have no idea to be honest. Are you joining us for a bit of stargazing, Aunt Chesa?”

  “No, I was just making my way to the Audience Hall to meet one of your Northern retives, in person, such is the courtesy of our court. A little te in turning up now but I suppose they are never punctual. Your mother is currently caught up in a dance and everyone else appears to be occupied. You, however, are not. So I’m ciming you. Come along, be a darling and accompany me.”

  “I shall be delighted to oblige, Aunt Chesa,” Zeya replied, though his face showed a flicker of irritation. He bowed his head and said, “Lady Sein, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Your Highness. Lady Chesa.” Sein curtsied.

  Without turning back, Lady Chesa said over her shoulder, “Sein, your mother is looking for you, you know. There’s someone she is rather intent on you meeting.”

  Zeya sighed softly as he followed his aunt, the frustration of being interrupted still simmering beneath the surface. He gnced back at Sein. She had turned away and was making her way towards the pavilion.

  Would he have another chance to speak with her? Maybe, once all the guests had arrived and the formalities concluded, he’d seek her out and ask for a dance. Let the other dies grumble if they must. It was his celebration, wasn’t it? Surely he could make one choice for himself.

  But even as he told himself that, he knew better. He was not the sort to ruffle feathers or defy the order maintained by courtiers and watchful eyes. He knew how the court worked; how every gnce, every gesture was measured and remembered. Choosing Sein, even for a single dance, wouldn't go unnoticed. It would be a statement. And that would only invite trouble.

  Then a dark thread wove its way into his mind. Was it Lord Su who was being introduced to Sein? A peculiar knot of emotion twisted in his gut. Was it envy, discontent, or something far more fragile? To stop it from spiralling, he forced his eyes onto the path ahead, steadying his breath.

  Stone edging, scattered flower petals, Aunt Chesa’s cape, her jangling bracelets.

  He named each detail silently, using them like anchors to hold him in the present, and not be swept away by his thoughts.