PROLOGUE
LEO
Five Years Earlier
The fire crackles in the growing darkness, casting warm light across our campsite. The mountains that surround us are shrouded in shadow, but I can feel their towering presence watching over us.
There’s a story my grandmother used to tell me of giants who once walked the earth. They created the oceans, valleys and rivers then lay down to rest. They slept for so long that dirt collected across their bodies, and trees and animals sprang forth from their skin. These are the mountains that protect us—slumbering giants whose heart still beats.
I listen to the wind sweeping down from the mountain peak and pull my coat closer, smiling a little as I remember her voice.
“The wind is their breath, Leo. Can you not hear them snoring?”
I stretch my legs toward the flames, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles pushed to their limits. Special forces training in the northern mountains of Astipia is brutal this time of year,with temperatures dropping rapidly after sunset. Tonight, we’ve earned a few hours of rest after completing a particularly gruelling exercise.
The rest of the squad headed to their tents ten minutes ago, leaving just Lieutenant Murahka Rangi and me tending the fire and keeping watch. I’m grateful for the solitude. These rare moments when I’m neither lieutenant nor prince are precious to me.
“Getting soft on me, Your Highness?” Murahka’s deep voice carries across the fire, a hint of teasing in his tone.
I look up to find him watching me with a half-smile that has become increasingly distracting over the past weeks. I wiggle my feet with my own grin. “Just appreciating the chance to feel my extremities again.”
“I’ve heard that toes and fingers are overrated,” he says with a chuckle, moving to sit beside me on the fallen log that serves as our bench.
I blink, surprised that he’s sitting close enough for our shoulders to almost touch. The firelight flickers across his features—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw softened by a mouth that always seems one breath away from a smirk. His long hair is pulled into a loose braid down his back, and the hint of one of his tattoos peeks out from the cuff of his jacket. Broad-shouldered and quietly powerful, he carries himself with the kind of calm authority that turns heads.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shiver.”
He laughs, the sound warm and rich in the night air. “Unlike you pampered city dwellers, I’m from the mountains where we’retaught to embrace discomfort. My father used to wake me before dawn to swim in mountain lakes, even in winter.”
“Sounds like a harsh teacher.”
“He is.” Murahka’s expression softens in the firelight. “But a good man. He taught me that strength comes in many forms—not just physical power, but endurance, adaptability, compassion.”
I watch him as he speaks, taking in his strong profile illuminated by the fire.
“You did well today,” he says, turning slightly to face me. “That manoeuvre at the ridge—not many soldiers would have attempted it, let alone succeeded.”
“High praise from the man who called my first attempt at the obstacle course ‘abysmal,’” I reply, though there’s no heat in my words.
“You acted like you were afraid to get dirt on your uniform,” he says, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You’ve improved immensely since then.”
“I have a good teacher.” I hold his gaze a moment longer than necessary, something I’ve been doing more often lately—testing boundaries, searching for signs that this pull I feel isn’t entirely one-sided.
“You have determination,” he corrects. “Most men with your background would have requested transfer after the first week.”
I know what he means even if the soft criticism stings. Many would have balked at the harsh conditions, the complete lack of deference, the gruelling physical demands.
“My background has nothing to do with who I am here,” I say quietly. “Here, I’m not royalty. I’m just a man serving his country.”
Murahka studies me for a long moment, the firelight dancing in his dark eyes. “Is that why you joined? To escape who you are?”
The question hits closer to home than I’m comfortable admitting. I poke at the fire with a stick, watching sparks rise into the night sky.
“Not to escape,” I say finally. “But to find out who I am beneath all the pageantry. When you’re royal, everyone has expectations of who you should be, what you should do. My entire life has been planned out since before I was born.” I glance up at the stars, bright and clear above the mountains. “Out here, I can just be Leo. Not Prince Leopold, not the royal spare, not a symbol or a title. Just... me.”
Murahka nods slowly, seeming to weigh my words. “And who is ‘just Leo’?”
The question catches me off guard. I’ve spent so much time trying to escape my royal persona that I’ve rarely stopped to consider who I am underneath it all.
