Zeya stood in the gde, head slightly raised, letting the warmth of the morning sun settle on his face. Around him, the trees still slumbered in shadow, cloaked in a darkness that hadn’t loosen its grip, even as the cloudless sky brightened above. The hush of dawn lingered. He had risen long before first light, even before the mist had fully lifted from the undergrowth, and now he waited, silent and watchful, for the night scouts to return.

  Lord Cetan soon joined him, a trusted friend, acting as his deputy and one of the few who knew the Crown Prince was travelling in disguise as General Min. Zeya immediately took to him when they first met at the pace training grounds. Cetan was built like an ox, with a bulky frame and bulging muscles, yet there was a gentleness in his manner and a thoughtfulness that Zeya had always found appealing.

  Together, they studied the terrain map that Cetan unrolled before them, its contour lines looping and curling like delicate etchings, tighter where the nd rose sharply and looser where valleys sprawled.

  “I agree, General. It’s time we station a presence on the main route to force the enemy to use the secondary trails through the valleys,” Cetan said, tracing a line with his finger. “We’ll pce hidden patrols here and here. However, it may change depending on what the scouts uncover. Have they returned?”

  “Not yet as such,” Zeya responded, a frown indicating his concerns.

  “They ought to be back by now. Something must have happened,” Cetan mused out loud, running a hand over his hair to tuck the stray strands into a short ponytail. “Shall we send out new scouts?”

  “No. Give them a little more time.”

  “And General Lang?” Cetan asked, carefully rolling up the map and tucking it under one arm.

  “Yes, I’d like to hear what he has to say. Send a messenger.”

  “I’ll do that right away, General.”

  Cetan marched off, startling a cluster of small rens that had been hopping through the low grass, picking off insects.

  Shortly after, Khin Yu emerged silently from the cover of the trees. He had accompanied Zeya, disguised as one of the squad leaders under the name Htoo. Though his true mission, given by the Queen, was to keep the Crown Prince safe.

  He stepped forward into the pale shards of light, the brightness momentarily dazzling his eyes. Raising a hand to shield his face, he asked, “What are your pns, sir?”

  “If the enemy has indeed infiltrated and the rumours are correct, we’ll lead a mobile force to locate and intercept them before they reach the capital.”

  “Shall I send word to your father?”

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t. I want a clearer sense of what we’re dealing with first. Deploy listening posts. Use abandoned shrines and farm huts along the route. Let’s see if there are any whispers that shed light on the enemy’s intentions. We shall remain here for another day.”

  “Yes, sir,” Khin Yu said, bowing his head out of habit. He paused a brief moment before adding, “Denpa has your breakfast ready.”

  “Hmmm.” Zeya acknowledged, then to himself, now I’m sounding like Khin Yu.

  He gnced at his ever-present guard being recimed by the darkness of the trees and allowed himself a small grin.

  The chimes of bells wove through the air, barely audible above the morning chorus of birdsong. It was the signal for those off duty that the day had begun. Most were already awake, rolling up bedding, cleaning their gear, and tending to their weapons. Conversation was minimal; the early hour seemed to call for a certain quietude. They moved with intention, each action a small exercise in the mindfulness they practised daily.

  After a warm breakfast of congee and pickled vegetables served in bamboo bowls, the hush lifted. The men became lively, as if recharged by the food. They emerged from the tree cover into a small clearing ringed by moss-covered stones and sunlit bamboo.

  In the secluded space, they formed into loose ranks. Without the need for orders, they began to move, stepping through sword drills, flowing from form to form. The csh of steel was absent. Only the soft movements of footwork on the compacted grass and the swish of bdes cutting the air could be heard. In the freshness of the morning, bathed in golden light, it looked as though a choreographed dance was being performed to honour the spirits.

  This had been Zeya’s life ever since the South unched its invasion. The kingdom’s forces had responded swiftly, driving the enemy back and securing the borders. However, peace proved fleeting. Not long after, unrest began to stir in the North. The first signs came as major disruptions to trade, despite the long-standing alliance between the two kingdoms.

  At first, no one thought much of it, as interruptions to supplies occurred occasionally, troubling only the nobles when avaibility of gems became limited. But as time went on, the sting of shortages had reached every household, every corner of the realm. When the struggle reached the masses, it became a cause for concern.

  Many believed someone was deliberately fanning the fmes, and the King was determined to uncover the instigator. Suspicion lingered over the Northerners, though there appeared to be no motive. When polite enquiries were made of their neighbours, even the Queen’s brother, now the ruler of the North, was at a loss. He denied any involvement in the ongoing upheaval, but tensions between the two realms had begun long before this. With each passing year, the rift had widened, the divide growing too fractured to mend.

  “Allow me to go to the Northern borders, Papa,” Zeya asserted when news of the test unrest reached the pace.

  Word was that the enemy had slipped past the mountain garrisons, travelling the trade routes in disguise and spreading chaos and terror among ordinary folk. Some even specuted that the enemy had their sights set on the very heart of the kingdom.

  “No, Zeya. The defence of the kingdom lies in capable hands. General Lang and his men will not allow the enemy to advance. Your presence is not required. Should the need arise, additional men will be conscripted.”

  “Zeya, it’s simply that your presence will signal to my brother that we’re no longer aligned and knowing him, it may very well be taken as the first drumbeat of war,” Queen Opame spoke up, trying to soften the blow.

  “Indeed, your brother has always been one to leap before he looks. I doubt even the spirits could make sense of what drives him, let alone what he might do. And that unpredictability, I fear, is what makes him truly dangerous,” King Arkar said, his attention fixed on his wife.

  The Queen flicked a sideways gnce at him, suggesting there would be further discussion on the matter behind closed doors.

  “We must not provoke him. And as for Zeya, I will not permit him to return to the front. What use are seasoned warriors if the prince is to hurl himself into the thick of battle again? It’s reckless. The risk is unacceptable. I will not allow it.”

  Queen Opame knew her son well enough to read him. The slight furrow of his brow and the faint press of his lips spelled out his intentions. He had defiled them before. He was no longer the obedient boy they once knew, but a young man with a mind of his own and the resolve to act on it.

  “Perhaps Zeya could go in disguise,” she suggested quickly. “As a modest little general posted to the Northern hills, not the border. I hear General Lang is spread rather thin for gathering intelligence. It would give Zeya the opportunity to contribute and who knows, he might even snare a few infiltrators while he’s at it. Of course, he wouldn’t go alone. Khin Yu and Lord Cetan would accompany him, and no doubt his ever-faithful attendant would find a way to tag along as well.”

  Zeya folded his arms, wary of being spoken about as though he wasn’t in the room. It made him feel like a child all over again. But before he could make his case known, the King agreed without hesitation. And so, thanks to his mother, the prince assumed the identity of General Min and remained stationed in the Northern hills.

  The position suited Zeya very well, giving him the freedom to move about with the small band of men under his command. Together, they journeyed through the scattered vilges and towns, keeping watch over who came and went, and noting those who asked the wrong sort of questions.

  Yet Zeya’s true purpose had always been to find Sein. He could sense her presence, although faint and distant, a small beacon flickering on the horizon. He reached for that sliver of light whenever he sensed it, only for it to slip away, always just beyond his grasp. It became a relentless pursuit, and he chased it with the determination of a hound on the scent.

  As General Min, Zeya embraced his role, keeping his mind occupied with daily missions, routine tasks, and the welfare of his men. He’d trained himself not to ruminate on the past, nipping the bud immediately before it could bloom. This was the only way to function without feeling completely overwhelmed.

  Take one day at a time. Sooner or ter, I’ll find Sein, he told himself again and again.

  Zeya strolled through the camp, quietly observing, checking supplies, and speaking with many of the men. He paid close attention to their spirits, knowing that a well-fed, contented force was not only more effective, but also lifted his own mood. He’d taken care to ensure the food stores were well stocked, discreetly pulling princely strings, to secure the dry rations needed for their extended stay in the forest.

  After the midday meal, he gathered Cetan and the squad leaders to discuss the test findings from the night scouts. The enemy had finally been located, and it was now time to execute their pns. They had nearly finalised the details when a man from the perimeter arrived, requesting to speak with him.

  “General, we spotted three men wandering the woods. When apprehended, they said they were seeking us to join our company.” When Zeya arched an eyebrow at him, he quickly added, “They knew the codeword.”

  This immediately raised Zeya’s guard. No one had ever stepped forward knowing the codeword before.

  He narrowed his eyes and enquired, “And what did they look like?”

  “From what I can gather, they’re local ds, fairly young and inexperienced. Shall I send them away?”

  “No,” Zeya replied calmly. “I want to assess them myself first.” He paused, thinking. “If they’re locals, they may hold valuable knowledge. And the fact they knew the codeword… well, that certainly warrants a closer look.”

  “They’re waiting by the tree line, General.” The man gave a quick nod before departing.

  Zeya gnced at Cetan who already read his mind. He offered, “I’ll take over the drills, General. We’ll run through the details again ter.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  Zeya strolled towards the cover of trees, where three silhouettes stood, their forms outlined in gold by the afternoon sun. One of them struck him as oddly proportioned for a man, though he couldn’t quite pce why.

  “New recruits, step forward,” he instructed, hands csped behind his back.

  They certainly looked fresh and very green, but that wasn’t the issue. The real problem was that one of them looked exactly like Sein.

  Had he finally lost his mind, or was this some deluded illusion? Whatever it was, he was clearly seeing her face. Had his longing for her unhinged him at st? No. He trusted his eyes. It was Sein, only with her hair cut short. He forced himself to stay calm, to betray nothing. Take a breath.

  “Still young. No combat experience I presume,” Zeya said, more for filling the silence as he tried to wrestle with his thoughts.

  “No, sir,” two of the men responded at once.

  “And you?” Zeya directed the question at the Sein lookalike.

  “No, sir.”

  The sound of that voice sent goosebumps down his arms. Waves of jubition and euphoria swept over him, catching him off guard. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, almost foreign now. Sein’s face, Sein’s voice, both had been etched into his memory. There was no mistake. He had found her.

  As the realisation sank in, a familiar sensation stirred. It was like the warmth of a roaring fire, the thrill of uncovering a long-lost treasure, and the comforting sustenance of love—all at once.

  But what if all this was a cruel trick?

  Zeya extinguish his delight and willed his expression to remain neutral, at least until he understood what was happening. The questions crowded in: did Sein remember who she was? Who he was? Where had she been for the past five years? And why was she pretending to be a man?

  His eyes swept over her swiftly: short hair, a loose shirt, trousers. She did look rather good in trousers, and a memory of a conversation they once shared in the Archives came flooding back.

  ***

  “Sein, I spotted you fencing with your brother yesterday,” Zeya said, sliding into the chair next to Sein. “So that’s how you’ve been spending your evenings. And here I was thinking you were tucked away with a book each night. Why have you never mentioned it?”

  He gave her a raised eyebrow, then grinning, he added, “You move with remarkable grace when wielding a bde. And in trousers… well, I don’t mind confessing, you rather caught my attention.”

  “Oh,” Sein murmured, her cheeks warming a little. She took a moment to gather her words. “Alright, you’ve found me out. We assumed the training grounds would be deserted by then. No one ever comes after supper.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “And what were you doing there?”

  “I was hoping for a bit of a run around.”

  “At night? In the dark? Care to expin?”

  “Ah, I see what you’re doing—shifting the spotlight onto my fancy for a bit of light exercise at night so we don’t have to talk about your midnight swordpy.”

  “Of course,” Sein giggled. Then, turning serious, she faced Zeya. “But really, promise you won’t tell anyone. I’m only pying around, that’s all. Thura’s just showing me a few things, nothing serious.”

  “I promise I won’t say a word,” Zeya said, one hand on his heart. “But why all this secrecy? If you wish to learn sword fighting, why hide it?”

  He paused, his attention fixed on her, reading the unspoken cues before adding, “I know it’s not something every dy would choose, but truly, I see nothing wrong with it. Would you like me to have a word with a few people? We’ll make it perfectly official. You deserve the freedom to pursue whatever appeals to you.”

  Zeya wasn’t sure whether Sein was about to burst into tears or jump for joy, but she certainly looked emotional. At st, she batted her shes and gave him a dazzling smile.

  “Before you know it, you’ll be championing the outrageous idea that dies can wear whatever they please. Even trousers.”

  “Well, if that’s what takes your fancy, who am I to disagree? I imagine it can’t be easy darting about in those flowing gowns with a ton of fabric trailing behind you. Though I must admit, watching you manage it with such grace is half the charm. Still, if trousers mean I get to keep up without tripping over your hem, then by all means… trousers it is.”

  “Really?” Sein asked, feigning astonishment. Her expression shifted swiftly as she continued, “Can you imagine it? Ladies parading about in men’s clothing. And if you’re going to decree that, surely it’s only fair we flip it the other way too. Men in bodices and skirts?”

  Zeya ughed heartily. “I’m picturing my father in a flowing skirt, with an eborate train billowing behind him, an attendant scurrying after to keep it from the dirt. I daresay Court would never recover after that.”

  “What a delicious scandal it would make.” Sein joined in with the ughter.

  ***

  For the moment, Zeya must continue as General Min and remain focused on the mission until he could be certain that the person standing before him was truly Sein. Lord Ray had warned him of the deceptions that might come his way, and he couldn’t afford to let anything prey on his weakness. And Sein was his greatest weakness of all.

  “Very well,” he said, folding his arms casually. “You’ll be appraised on your current capabilities then go through our intensive training. I’ll be assessing your swordsmanship first.”

  He motioned for the three to follow, retracing his steps along a worn path that cut back into the forest. The ground was soft beneath their boots, carpeted with fallen leaves and the occasional acorn. Towering oaks and ancient camphor trees loomed overhead, their branches creating a dense canopy that dampened the harsh sunlight. These trees, silent witnesses to centuries gone by, gradually thinned as the path opened into a space carved by human hands.

  The clearing, once used by nomadic tribes, had been cimed by the General’s men. Here, the serenity of the surroundings was broken by the grunts and shouts of training. Men lunged at stationary targets, bdes slicing clean through and leaving gaping wounds in the tightly packed straw. Others fenced in pairs, the song of metal on metal sending birds scattering from the treetops in sudden bursts of wings and feathers.

  Zeya spotted Khin Yu, clearly taken aback at the sight of Sein, watching intently from a distance. He gave a discreet hand signal, and Khin Yu understood at once. Without hesitation, he selected two practice swords and approached them.

  “What’s your name?” Zeya asked, his eyes directed at the tallest man. He was slender with short hair, indistinguishable from many of the vilge boys he’d come across. From his build, Zeya guessed the man had never fought in his life.

  “Kyaw, sir.”

  “Show me how you wield a bde, Kyaw.”

  Zeya took the swords from Khin Yu and tossed one to Kyaw, who caught it with his left hand and held it like a stick of bamboo—more like a tool than a weapon. As Zeya approached, Kyaw swung wildly, batting at the air and stumbling backwards. Without a word, Zeya halted.

  “Next,” he said dryly, gaze now falling on Sein. “Your name?”

  “Bayin, sir.”

  “Ok, you’re up,” Zeya said, heart racing.

  Bayin? Is that who she thinks she is now? Or is this some act?

  He needed to know for certain and a pn quickly formed in his mind. If she truly was Sein, the sequence he’d once seen her practise with Thura would resurface. He’d bait her with it, and if she remembered, she’d respond instinctively.

  “Bayin, are you ready?”

  Bayin nodded, giving Zeya permission to begin. He advanced with smooth, deliberate cuts, eyes locked on her. Each strike came with controlled power—a downward arc, a swift thrust, a sweeping horizontal cut—all flowing one after another like silk. Bayin responded deftly, light on her feet, parrying each blow; a rising block caught his downward strike.

  Zeya continued the sequence. She twisted her wrists to guide the thrust aside, pivoted on her back foot, and ducked beneath the sweeping cut by a hair’s breadth. As Zeya pressed forward again, she answered with a sharp tap to the bde’s ft, redirecting it before sliding in with a short counter aimed at his shoulder. It was enough proof she knew the drills Thura had taught.

  Satisfied with the test, he said, “Good. Next.”

  To continue his act of assessing them, Zeya called out to the other man, “What’s your name?”

  “Soe, sir,” he replied, flicking back a head of brown curls that skimmed his eyes.

  Though shorter than Kyaw, he had a broader frame, and there was a heaviness to his limbs that suggested he was used to physical bour.

  Zeya wasted no time and lunged at him, restraining himself to go softly. Soe managed to deflect the first strike. Without pause, Zeya followed with a sharp thrust to the midline, then swept the bde across in a swift horizontal cut, forcing Soe to give ground. This was enough and Soe stepped backwards in surrender.

  Zeya gnced at Khin Yu. He knew the signs: tight shoulders, sharp eyes, and a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Khin Yu was on high alert, clearly unsettled by Sein’s presence. Did he truly see Sein as a threat?

  With a slight movement of his hand, Zeya gave the silent signal for Khin Yu to stand down.

  Then, aloud, he said, “Htoo, take Kyaw and Soe to Cetan for further assessments. Then get them started with basic training.”

  He made another hand signal that communicated one simple command: return with my sword.

  Khin Yu bowed his head, his expression unreadable, and gestured for the others to follow. Zeya turned to Bayin. There was one more test he must carry out.

  “Bayin. Come with me. I’ll train you in swordsmanship myself.”

  Without thinking, his voice softened into the familiar cadence he used only with Sein. His hands tightened at his sides as he gathered his resolve, and strode ahead without a backward gnce.