With a resigned breath, Kage stepped out from the treeline, surrendering the safety of shadows. Their eyes met across the glow of the flames. One pair as green as deep forest, the other as black and endless as the night sky. One gaze full of sorrow and regret; the other clouded with uncertainty, haunted by too many roads unchosen.
‘I’m not the one following you,’ Kage replied, gesturing towards the wolf and the crow. ‘They are.’
The Fae didn’t answer at once. Instead, he turned back to the small fire, adjusting the position of a plucked bird he’d hunted before dusk had begun to bleed across the sky. He placed it carefully over the flames, the scent of char and game slowly rising into the cooling air.
Kage remained where he was, unmoving, a silent statue cloaked in quiet tension.
‘Are you going to sit, or are you just going to stand there like some cursed wraith?’ the Fae asked without looking up. ‘You’re starting to creep me out.’
With slow, deliberate steps, Kage crossed the distance and lowered himself to the ground, choosing a spot that maintained a careful measure of space between them. The crow settled on a branch overhead, its eyes watchful and unblinking, while the wolf turned to stare at Kage, something like disdain glinting in its icy blue stare.
‘So?’ the Fae said at last, breaking the quiet. ‘Are you going to tell me why you or rather, your pets, are trailing me through ash and emptiness? Or do I have to play some absurd guessinggame?’ His green eyes shone with faint amusement, though there was warning beneath it. ‘Let me guess. You’re Wren Wynter’s long-lost lover, come to duel me?’
Kage studied the Fae in silence, his expression carved from stone, betraying nothing. The stranger’s words were meant to provoke, that much was clear, or perhaps he truly believed Kage and Wren had once been lovers. The notion almost made Kage smile.
Yes, Wren was beautiful, achingly so. But it was a beauty he could admire from a distance, unclouded by desire. His feelings for her had never stirred in that way.
He had realised he was different from his brother Kai long ago when Kai returned from military service, glowing and loud, with a crowd of friends at his back. Kage had been fourteen, just beginning his own preparations to enlist. Kai, two years older, already had the world’s attention, admirers orbiting him like moths to flame.
That was when Kage had noticedhim.One of the wyverian boys among Kai’s entourage. Just a glance at first, but it had been enough to startle something in his chest into motion. A heartbeat too fast. A breath caught in the wrong place.
For the first time, he had wandered down into the practice courtyards, pretending interest in swordplay while his attention shifted, always, to that boy. No one paid him any notice. Why would they?
But after a few days, the boy had looked back. Had smiled.
And Kage had realised then that this wasn’t about wanting a friend.
This was something else entirely.
He never saw the boy again. But not long after, he had gone to Haven, the sister who always seemed to understand without needing words. He’d asked her, voice small, if she knew what itmeant.
She hadn’t said much. Just smiled softly and placed her hand over his heart.
‘It means you are mortal, and alive, andreal, Kage,’ Haven had said, her voice gentle but sure. ‘It means you are capable of feeling, and of loving.’
‘But it was a boy,’ he’d murmured, uncertain.
Haven’s warm smile only widened. ‘So?’
‘So...in the stories I’ve read, it never mentions a prince falling for...’ He’d trailed off, brow furrowed, heart confused, until Haven laughed, light and easy.
‘Those tales are old, Kage.’ She’d cupped his face between her palms and kissed the tip of his nose like she used to when they were younger.
‘Is it wrong?’ he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
‘To love?’ Her head tilted, her expression aglow with something soft and knowing. ‘No, Kage. There are many things in this world that are wrong. But loving someone, truly, is never one of them.’
He had nodded, not fully convinced, but comforted all the same.
‘I’ve loved someone like me, too,’ Haven added, the confession gentle. ‘Not a wyverian boy, but a wyverian girl.’
Kage’s dark eyes had widened. ‘What happened?’
‘She didn’t love me back,’ Haven said with a shrug, though there was no bitterness in her voice. ‘At least, not in the same way. But that’s all right.’ She had smiled, wistful and undeterred. ‘One day, I’ll find someone who loves me just as fiercely as I love them. And we’ll live happily ever after like in those silly old books.’ She’d laughed then, bright and teasing,and Kage had smiled too, the rare kind, the kind he saved only for her.
The rustle of movement brought him back to the present. Across the fire, the Fae leaned forward and lifted the roasted bird from the flames, setting it neatly onto a broad leaf. Without ceremony, he tore a piece free and, to Kage’s mild surprise, offered a piece to the wolf.
‘I’m not Wren’s lover,’ Kage said at last, his voice calm, measured, his gaze fixed on the Fae to catch even the faintest flicker of response.
