"I don't dislike it."
"What, then?"
He ran his fingers through dark hair, and the motion made muscles swell beneath his jerkin in ways that left me suddenly light-headed. When had I become so aware of the strength coiled in his frame? When had the simple sight of him become something that made my mouth go dry?
"We don't belong here," he said finally, the words heavy with reluctance.
"Nobody belongs anywhere, old friend. People adopt and people adapt."
"We have a home." His voice carried conviction I wished I could share. "And the home needs us."
My heart sank like a stone cast into deep water. "Yet here we are, surrounded by beauty, poetry, and boys."
"Naked boys," he said, and was that disapproval or something else entirely in his tone?
"Do you object?"
He bit his lip, and the simple gesture sent heat spiraling through me for reasons I didn't dare examine. "I... no. Not object, precisely."
"I quite fancy their leisurely crassness," I admitted with a laugh that came out breathier than intended. "There's something refreshing about such honesty. No hidden agendas, no careful calculations. Just beauty for its own sake."
"Is that what you call it?" His voice held notes of amusement I hadn't heard in days. "Honesty?"
"What would you call it?"
"Dangerous." But he was almost smiling as he said it, and for a moment we were simply two young men sharing a jest rather than prince and protector bound by duty and distance.
This was what I treasured most about our friendship - these rare moments when the careful formality fell away and I could glimpse the person beneath the role. Rhazir was the only one whonever flattered me for gain, never sweetened truth with honeyed lies. If anything, he barely offered compliments at all, which made each one precious as pearls when they came.
"You're the only honest person I know," I said without thinking, then immediately regretted the confession when something vulnerable flickered in his eyes.
"Your Highness?—"
"Serin." The correction came automatically. "We're alone, old friend. Surely you can spare me the formality?"
He was quiet for a long moment, and I found myself holding my breath as he seemed to wrestle with some internal debate. Finally: "The honest truth is that this place makes me... uneasy."
"Because of the naked boys?"
"Because of what it represents." His hands flexed at his sides, a gesture I recognized as barely controlled agitation. "Freedom from consequence. Pleasure without price. It feels like a trap disguised as paradise."
"And what if it's paradise disguised as a trap?" I countered, though his words sent unwelcome chill through my veins. "What if this is what life could be like without the weight of crowns and conquest?"
The silence that followed stretched taut as a bowstring. In it, I heard all the things neither of us dared say, that I was running from my destiny, thathe was enabling my escape, that every moment we lingered here was another step away from the harsh realities waiting at home.
"The lords will not wait forever," he said finally, his voice soft as prayer.
"I know." The words tasted like ashes. "But must we return to such thoughts so soon? Can we not have a few days to simply... exist? To walk in gardens where no one bleeds, to hear poetry instead of calls to arms, to pretend for just a little while that the world can be beautiful?"
His expression cracked slightly, revealing depths of pain I rarely glimpsed. "Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to?—"
"You meant to protect me. You always do." I reached out before I could stop myself, fingers brushing his hand in comfort. The contact sent lightning through my veins, and I jerked back as if burned. "I need some air. Privacy to think."
"I'll accompany you."
"No." The word came out harsher than intended, and I softened it with what I hoped was an apologetic smile. "I wish to walk alone in the orchard. To clear my head."
The horror that crossed his features was almost comical. Letting me wander unprotected was clearly against every instinct he possessed, professional and personal alike.
