The sun bled gold through the treetops, painting long shadows over the winding dirt path. Caleb walked ahead, his boots pressing firmly into the damp earth, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His armor was dulled with dust from the journey, his navy-blue cape weighed down by exhaustion. The only sound was the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze and the distant hoot of an owl, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

Behind him, the prince stumbled slightly over an exposed root. Caleb turned instantly, catching his arm before he could fall.

“You need to watch where you’re stepping,” Caleb murmured, his voice gruff but not unkind.

The prince huffed, shaking off Caleb’s grip, though the knight noted the slight flush to his cheeks. “Forgive me for not being used to walking for miles in heavy clothes,” he muttered, tugging at the fine cloak still draped around his shoulders. Though dust-streaked and slightly torn from their escape, it still carried the emblem of the royal family—a stark reminder of the life they were trudging back toward.

Caleb sighed and stepped back, resuming his pace. “You should have let me carry you.”

The prince scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

Caleb smirked despite himself. Stubborn as ever.

For a while, they walked in silence, the weight of the failed journey pressing between them. Caleb knew he had defied orders—disobeyed the king, drawn his sword against those meant to be his allies—all for the sake of the man beside him. The prince had been meant for another, a union of kingdoms forged through a cruel marriage. But Caleb had seen the bruises on his wrists, the way his voice wavered when he spoke of the king he was supposed to wed. And in that moment, duty had crumbled beneath something deeper.

“I never thanked you,” the prince murmured, breaking the quiet.

Caleb stiffened. “Don’t.”

The prince frowned, but Caleb didn’t look at him. If he did, he feared he’d see something in those eyes—something he wasn’t allowed to want.