CHAPTER 16

I n the soft clutches of sleep, I found myself walking through a mist-laden forest that shimmered with an ethereal glow. Prince Darcel accompanied me a few steps ahead, his figure silhouetted against the soft moonlight that filtered through the leaves, a comforting anchor in the ever-shifting dreamscape.

For once the darkness held no dread for me; I delighted in its gentle embrace as I wandered side by side with the prince. We seemed to be searching for something precious; even through my dreamy haze I sensed it was my true self that I was becoming increasingly desperate for Prince Darcel to discover.

Our hands brushed occasionally as we moved through the forest, sending ripples of warmth across my skin. Each touch nourished my ever-present longing, while each of his backwards glances was laden with meaning I couldn’t quite decipher. His eyes reflected the starry night and something deeper, concealed emotions that didn’t exist when I was awake but which I yearned for from him…if I could but shed my disguise.

As the dream wove on, we came upon a clearing where the moonlight pooled like silver on the ground. Darcel stopped and turned towards me, reaching out with a gentle smile that invited me to join him in the light. The world seemed to hold its breath as I took his hand, the moment suspended in the mystical glow that enveloped us, illuminating my hope that one day we could stand together not as the prince and Ren but Darcel and Mei. In this peaceful instant nothing else mattered but the connection between us and the joined future I longed for.

The tranquility shattered when a gentle but insistent shaking pulled me from the folds of sleep. My eyes fluttered open to the dim predawn light, the dreamlike forest dissolving into the clearing where we had set up camp. I blinked, disoriented, up at the figure looming over me, the remnants of the dream clinging to my consciousness as I fought the urge to close my eyes and try to recapture the happiness of the dream.

Gradually the image came into focus. Prince Darcel crouched beside me, hand on my shoulder, as commanding in reality as it had been in my dream. Even after I recognized him it took me a moment to shake off the lingering tendrils of drowsiness and fully register his presence.

What was the prince doing outside of my dream? Strangely his handsome figure didn’t disappear even after the world came into sharper focus as my bleariness faded, but only grew more detailed. Gradually reality penetrated the lingering exhaustion muddling my senses, making me realize this wasn’t a dream at all: the object of my affection was truly beside me.

I bolted upright with a surprised gasp. “Your Highness!”

He pressed his fingers to his lips and motioned towards Kael still asleep a short distance away, while Sir Jiang sat at his nearby post—he had insisted on taking the night watch so he could better monitor Darcel’s condition throughout the night.

The cool morning air brushed against my skin as I rubbed the last of sleep from my eyes, sweeping away the final wisps of the dream. The prince was truly here, not a figment of my imagination woven from moonlight and desire, but a real and solid presence.

The sudden shift from dream to reality left my heart racing—a mixture of disappointment that the tender moment I’d experienced hadn’t been real, and a peculiar relief that the boundaries between my dreams and waking life were still intact. The sensation of his hand in mine lingered, a haunting reminder of the yearnings that I couldn’t fully dispel.

I instinctively pulled my blanket to my chin, not just to cover the feminine shape of my body but subconsciously shield my heart from these feelings so overwhelming I feared they’d burst from my heart, laid bare for his examination.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I stuttered, using the excuse to rub my bleary eyes again as a chance to check my disguise. A hint of stubble still roughened my skin, faint but perceptible, offering a small measure of relief. I’d checked my masculine features so often I had memorized their contours beneath my fingers—the illusion was fading, gradually giving way to the softer lines of my true face. I silently prayed that the dim morning twilight would conceal any glimpses of my real appearance peeking through the weakening disguise.

He misread my rising anxiety. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I wanted to take the opportunity to show you some training routines.”

I blinked, the words failing to fully register midst my surprise. “Training routines?”

“You mentioned you wanted to get stronger.” Oblivious to my grogginess, his determined expression promised a challenging start to the day.

My mind scrambled back to our interaction the day before, carefully combing through the time I’d spent tending him that had become a tender memory after the fear of danger had passed.

“I didn’t recall sharing that particular desire with you.” Although I had certainly thought it, there was no way he could have known. While mind-reading spells did exist, the prince surely didn't possess such abilities; if he had, we would be undergoing an interrogation about my deceit rather than engaging in this peaceful conversation.

“Not so explicitly,” he said. “I deciphered your want when you expressed not wanting to be a burden. Since it’s not herbal knowledge or skill you lack, I inferred you referred to your weak stamina and physical abilities that you’ve undoubtedly been comparing to the rest of the trained entourage.”

I recalled the moment I’d relived so often in my mind it had become etched in memory—his thoughtful perusal of my face, as if trying to discern the thoughts and secrets I so fiercely guarded. Deep down, though I understood that his attentiveness stemmed from reasons entirely different from the romantic interest I yearned for as a woman, my heart couldn't help but warm at the thought that he had paid me as much careful attention as I had him.

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

Puzzlement furrowed his brow. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re one of my comrades.”

The romantic stirrings of my heart made it all too easy to forget that I was currently masquerading as a boy. I silently scolded myself for even momentarily hoping he might feel a similar affection towards me, a notion my current disguise rendered impossible.

I couldn’t mask my disappointment quickly enough for him not to notice. He leaned closer, expression concerned as he peered into my face. “What’s wrong?”

I had no explanation to excuse the ridiculous feelings that had no place in such a charade. “While I appreciate your consideration, I’m worried about your injury.” Though I’d seized the first reason to refuse I could think of, the reminder caused a jolt of alarm. “Wait, you want to train with your injury?” We’d scheduled a rest day so he could properly heal, a reason that would defeat its purpose should he exert himself on my behalf.

He impatiently waved away my worry. “I insist. I not only want to express my gratitude for yesterday, but I’m still determined to earn your regard. Besides, I have a very able herbalist to tend me should anything go wrong.” He winked, a gesture that might have undone me completely if my thoughts hadn’t been so consumed by anxiety for his well-being. “Hurry and get dressed. I’ll meet you just outside camp.” He pointed into the trees, a ways beyond the futons and dying embers of our campfire.

He started to depart, but I scrambled forward and seized a handful of his shirt, compelling him to stop. He glanced back, eyebrows raised in silent question. I hastily released him, not entirely sure why I’d grabbed him. “Your Highness—” I began.

“Darcel,” he corrected automatically.

I pushed past the shyness clogging my throat, keeping my voice low and masculine with an effort. “Darcel.” As before, a secret thrill rippled over me each time his name passed my lips. “I truly appreciate your consideration and don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I’m worried.” His complexion remained pale and drawn, a stark reminder of yesterday's poisoning ordeal.

His lips twitched up. “Your worry gives me hope you don’t hate me after all. Don’t be concerned— you’re the one who’ll be doing the training, I’m just your overseer.” His dark smirk contained a hint of mischief, leaving me terrified of the long and excruciating day ahead.

I sighed. “Stubborn royal. Even though you’ll still be exerting yourself far more than is prudent given your condition, I concede in this particular battle. Why must you insist on nobility at the most inopportune moments for yourself?”

He averted his gaze. “I suppose I'm just desperate to prove that I have some value beyond simply being a prince.” He made the admission in a whisper so faint I doubt he meant for me to hear, echoing the sentiment I’d shared only the day before.

He and I were more alike than I had initially thought, similarities that drew my heart closer to his. I empathized with this need all too well, dissolving the last of my resistance so I longer had the grounds to fight him. Although concern for my father played a significant part of my motivation, my own stubborn determination to prove myself was the prominent force behind my presence on this trek.

I shook my head, fighting the pleased smile tugging on my scowl. I couldn’t believe I had ever disliked a man so noble. My concern for his condition aside, I was eager to spend another day with him.

But first I needed to take a moment to fix my disguise so there was no chance it would falter during our time together. He cast me his usual questioning glance as I excused myself, but seemed to have grown used to my frequent wandering off, once more attributing my need for privacy to my excessive modesty.

I took refuge behind a copse of trees some distance from camp, their shield of branches conspiring with the dim pre-dawn light to offer me the perfect cover. I lathered on a double layer of my enchanted ointment, checking and rechecking it several times in my reflection in the nearby stream to ensure I hadn’t missed even the smallest section of my face.

My anxiety almost led me to add a third layer that would be both unnecessary and wasteful. I barely staved the irrational compulsion when I noticed the jar; its fern-green contents were nearly depleted.

Though I’d prepared what I thought would be a sufficient amount before setting out on my journey, my constant paranoia had habitually caused me to use more than necessary, resulting in my now running low more quickly than I’d planned. While I’d brought the necessary ingredients to make more, I’d sacrificed the last of my ironbark for Darcel’s poison remedy, and ironbark trees were rare in this part of the kingdom.

Even after assuring myself that it was secure—being extra vigilant as a precaution for my upcoming proximity with Darcel—I took a deep, shaky breath as I approached where he waited, leaning against a tree with his weight on his good leg, his arms crossed in a dashing pose that momentarily stopped me in my tracks.

Mischief lined his smile in greeting. “With your stubbornness I almost expected you not to show up.”

“Even I have enough sense not to keep a prince waiting, especially when he’s sacrificing for my benefit.”

“It’s truly no trouble at all.” He beckoned me to follow him. Though he used a stick Sir Jiang had whittled into a makeshift crutch, I anxiously eyed each limping step, and was relieved when we finally came to a small clearing only about five minutes away from camp.

As we prepared to begin our training, the horizon began to blush with the first light of dawn. We both paused and stood side by side to admire the sight, our gazes fixed on the spreading colors painting the sky transforming from soft grey to a cascade of oranges and pinks as the darkness retreated and the day took hold.

Darcel was the first to break the reverent silence that had settled around us. “After so many years shrouded in darkness, I never tire of watching the light reclaim the sky…a reminder that things can always change, no matter how permanent they might seem.”

The cursed endless night had only dissipated a year ago, so its memory was still fresh. Seeing cresting dawn banishing the night with its gentle light never failed to stir something deep within me—a mixture of relief, appreciation…and most of all hope. I felt a spark of warmth to realize that the prince felt the same.

“It's beautiful,” I murmured, not wanting to disturb the tranquil moment. “I used to dream about the light, wondering if we'd ever see the sun rise again. At times it felt like an impossible wish.” Just like the man standing an arm’s length away, my heart’s newest, most desperate desire.

Darcel glanced at me, his expression softening. “I know what you mean. There were moments I doubted we'd ever see the light again. But here it is.” He gestured towards the rising sun. “And here we are. If the light’s return taught me anything, it was to keep believing—not just in the return of day, but in our ability to fully restore the kingdom.”

His words resonated deeply within me, echoing not just my own thoughts but the shared sentiments of everyone who had lived under the curse. The dawn went beyond a beautiful sight—it had become a symbol of renewal and a promise of recovery for our people. It filled me with a renewed determination, a desire to press forward and contribute to the healing of our land with all my knowledge and capability.

Darcel’s eyes lingered on the dawn’s cascading colors a moment longer. “As much as the night taught us to fear and to survive, the dawn teaches us to hope and thrive. Though there is much to do, we must push forward and make every day count.”

As if to affirm his words, the light of the dawn enveloped us, warming the morning’s frostiness and illuminating the path ahead. As the sun climbed higher and cast golden hues across the landscape, we turned towards each other with a renewed sense of purpose. I watched as Darcel shifted fluidly into a crouched stance, keeping his weight on his non-injured leg. Whether the position was for fighting or something else I wasn’t sure, but I instantly felt out of my depth.

The reverence of the moment became entirely forgotten in the face of his wicked grin. “Are you ready to be strengthened?”

I felt a sense of foreboding, but whatever horrors I imagined when he first woke me with the news of my training couldn’t have prepared me for the torture that awaited me.

After putting me through a series of lunges and stretches to warm up, the training began with a brisk jog. Darcel’s injury prevented him from joining the exercise himself, so instead he directed me along paths through the dew-laden grass; the chill of the morning bit at my cheeks, my only reprieve to the sweat lining my face as the sun rose higher. The cheerful twitter of birds mingled with the less sonorous sounds of my labored gasps as I stumbled to the end of my course, where I dropped down beside Darcel, who watched my struggle from his place on a large stone, looking as princely as though it was a throne.

I dearly hoped I’d be granted a chance to rest, but instead he set me on a brisk walk with intermittent stops to practice balance and precision on uneven terrain. “Strength isn’t always about speed or force,” he explained. “So now we'll work on maintaining stamina over an extended period of time.”

My legs trembled slightly as I began. The path started out with deceptive ease, weaving through a gently rolling meadow. Darcel limped alongside me, his own endurance allowing him to keep a steady pace despite his injury. He stopped several times to correct my posture and remind me that even in this terrain, it was important to maintain proper form.

We paused as the path took an abrupt turn upward, ascending into more challenging, rocky outcrops that waited to test my agility. I groaned as I forced myself onto the twisting path. My legs ached from the slow, deliberate climb and the concentration required to maintain balance, the burn different from the fierce fire of a run but just as effective.

“Use the environment to your advantage,” Darcel called from below. “Every rock, every change in slope can teach you something about handling real situations.”

I pushed through the deep burn in my muscles, driven by a mix of pride, the desire not to show any weakness, and motivation to match Darcel’s resilience.

After I returned to where Darcel waited, he only allowed a brief rest. He showed me basic combat moves, correcting my stance and demonstrating each sweep and block with precise, fluid motions, his voice firm but encouraging. We practiced the moves until my arms trembled from fatigue, each repetition embedding the skills deeper into my muscle memory.

By mid-morning, the training session took a sudden turn from exhausting to intensely personal when Darcel decided it was time I learned how to properly wield a sword.

I warily eyed the weapon before shifting my uncertainty towards his bandaged leg. “I can’t fight you while you’re injured.”

A smile toyed at his lips. “I’m sure you could use the handicap.”

His teasing ruffled my annoyance and sense of competitiveness, making it impossible to resist the enticing bait his taunting had dangled in front of me. I lifted my chin and smirked. “Challenge accepted.” I swung my sword with all my effort, a poor blow he easily blocked midst his laughter, the sound a welcome break in his usual stoicism.

Slightly embarrassed but undeterred, I tried again, but my determination was no match for my inexperience. Each initial attempt was awkward, the heavy sword too unbalanced and unyielding in my hands. Observing my struggle, Darcel stepped closer, his presence immediately filling the space around me that had to remain free of handsome princes for the sake of my concentration and sanity.

I stiffened instinctively, my stomach already aflutter with nerves and anticipation. “What are you doing?” I squeaked.

He rolled his eyes. “You certainly are jumpy. Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to show you.” The warmth of his body enveloped mine as he closed the distance between us and moved behind me, with no consideration of the damage his proximity rendered on my poor heart. It took every ounce of willpower not to jolt away.

As much as I tried to conceal my body’s reaction, I couldn’t stop the blush that engulfed my cheeks. Worry filled Darcel as he eyed my flush and the sweat dripping down my face. “If you’re getting overheated, perhaps we should take off our shirts?—”

“Absolutely not.”

My harsh refusal seemed to stir his own memory of the last time that had happened. He gave an awkward cough but thankfully didn’t press the matter.

My heart thudded erratically as he reached around me, covering my hands with his own to adjust my grip on the sword’s hilt. His guiding touch was firm, but all I could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the brush of his chest against my back with each small adjustment he made.

His breath tickled my ear. “Hold it like this. You need to feel the balance—let the sword become an extension of your arm.”

The low timbre of his voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. I tried to focus on his words and on the weight and feel of the sword now steadied by his guidance, but my senses were overwhelmed by his closeness. The way he moved with me as we practiced a few swings felt almost like a dance, his body anticipating and mirroring my own movements, an intimacy that stirred a tumult of emotions within me.

Every touch and correction he made felt amplified, sending waves of awareness through me that I struggled to suppress. I was acutely conscious of my disguise and the necessity to remain as ’Ren’ in his eyes, but this moment made the already incredibly challenging pretense utterly impossible. My breathing grew shallow in a futile attempt to control the fluttering in my chest and the warmth spreading through me that it was imperative he didn’t detect.

As we continued, his hands occasionally corrected my posture or grip, each touch another jolt to my composure. “Good, you’re beginning to get it. Now, try to strike with intention.” Darcel finally stepped back to give me space to practice the move independently.

I swung the sword with as much focus as I could muster given his lingering proximity, grateful for the opportunity the physical activity granted to help channel the tumult inside me. Every swing dissipated a bit of the tension, but Darcel’s eyes on me—watchful and discerning—kept the butterflies that had invaded my stomach captive.

Apparently the current torture on my heart wasn’t nearly enough for him. As our session progressed, Darcel decided to practice grappling—a technique useful for close combat situations. Despite my efforts to focus intently on his instructions, I scarcely heard his explanation about leverage and understanding my opponent’s movements, my attention entirely eclipsed by the way the muscles tightened beneath his shirt as he demonstrated a basic hold.

We squared off, and he showed me how to break a hold by shifting my weight and using the opponent’s momentum against them. As we grappled, our bodies inevitably came close once more. Even amid my fluster, I managed to apply the technique he’d just demonstrated, twisting to escape his grip.

I broke free more forcefully than I intended, causing Darcel to stumble backward; in an attempt to stabilize himself, his hand reached out, inadvertently brushing against my chest.

The contact was brief and as innocent as could be considered given the situation, but it was enough to make him pause, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. The fabric of my clothing, damp from the exertion, might have clung to me just enough to outline my figure more clearly than before. His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a heartbeat, there was a silent question in his gaze.

Heat flushed my face from the sudden fear that my disguise might be compromised. I hastily stepped back and awkwardly adjusted my tunic, hoping to deflect any further scrutiny. “I’m sorry, I lost my balance.” I took extra care to keep my voice low and gruff to counteract his suspicions.

Darcel recovered quickly, his expression clearing as he nodded. “No harm done. Let's try that again. Remember, it's about control, not just force.”

As we resumed our training, I couldn't help but feel his eyes on me a bit more critically, observing my movements with a new intensity. “You’re unusually graceful.” I could almost hear his unspoken suspicion that I moved differently than a man.

“My craft requires careful and precise movements.” Forgetting my earlier precaution, my airy voice nearly exposed my feminine lilt. He cocked his ear with a frown, escalating my anxiety that he might be piecing together his suspicions.

“Abilities that are already serving you well.” Though he thankfully didn’t press the matter further, in my lingering worry I scarcely heard his praise.

The rest of the training thankfully passed without incident, but his brief moment of doubt lingered in my mind. I was more careful than ever, conscious of every physical interaction and the way I carried myself. The fear of discovery added a layer of tension to the training, making each move and countermove all the more critical.

By the time we finished, my body was sore in places I’d never noticed before, but there was an undeniable feeling of accomplishment. We rested at the base of the outcrop. Darcel handed me his water skin, and I took grateful gulps, relishing its soothing relief against my parched throat.

I sensed him watching me. Though he said nothing more about the incident, his occasional thoughtful glances my way spoke volumes. The balance between maintaining my disguise and proving my capabilities had never felt so precarious. I would need to be more vigilant going forward.

This burden felt extra weighty upon my exhausted shoulders. My wariness seemed to be enough to shake him from his pensive mood and he offered a smile, strained at the corners but still sincere. “How was it?”

I gratefully seized the distraction his question offered, though it took me a moment to catch my panting breath before I could summon enough strength to glare at him. “I truly thought you were determined to kill me. You’re such a bully.”

He laughed, a joyful sound that lit up his eyes and stirred my heart, causing the last of the tension from my faltered disguise to melt away. “I’ll accept that as gratitude. In all seriousness, you truly did well today. I hope you’ve learned that it’s not just about building strength or endurance, but discovering what you're capable of and pushing beyond the limits you set for yourself.”

His words stirred something within me. As I sat watching the sunlight filter through the leaves, I felt both a renewed sense of purpose and a shift in my understanding of myself. The day’s trials had peeled back layers of self-doubt, revealing a resilience I hadn’t known existed within me, one I wanted to nourish moving forward.

“I’ve always thought I needed to prove something,” I confessed. “To my father, to myself...maybe even to you. Yet today helped me realize that it’s not about attaining mastery, but simply improving each day, gradually getting better in order to face whatever comes next.”

Whatever challenge had been created by mastering the sword was nothing to mastering my own emotions, a battle that was proving to be far more formidable. It occupied my thoughts as we walked back to the camp, maintaining a small distance from Darcel in an effort to shake off the lingering emotional turmoil his touch had stirred.

My thoughts drifted back to the moment he’d almost discovered my identity. Some of the panic had subsided, replaced with a realization as steady as my settling heartbeat. I need to tell him .

It wasn’t a matter of my inability to keep it a secret much longer, but the fact that I no longer wanted to. We’d grown too close for me to want to conceal it any longer. Though romance might be out of reach, he was still my friend.

As we neared camp I brushed his arm, beckoning him to stop. He glanced back, pinning me with the full force of his gorgeous dark eyes that for a moment I became entirely lost in. When my silence extended too long, worry furrowed his brow. “Are you alright, Ren? Did I push you too hard?”

The pseudonym felt extra jarring in the heat of my resolve to confess. I took a wavering breath, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

He waited patiently for me to continue, but the words I was determined to finally speak seemed to have become trapped in my throat, held back by worry whose clutches I couldn’t fully escape.

Though I was determined to face whatever consequences would result from unmasking my deceit, fear engulfed my heart at the thought that it might result in losing the camaraderie we’d forged. However, I reminded myself that I’d had the strength to come this far, meaning I could endure whatever came from speaking the truth.

“Ren?” He stepped closer, awashing me in his presence. I opened my mouth to speak, but as my eyes drifted shyly to the ground in an effort to avoid the full force of his gentle gaze, I noticed the crimson staining his leg from where his wound had reopened.

I gasped. “Your leg!”

He didn’t even glance at it. “That doesn’t matter. What did you want to tell me?”

Despite his determination not to allow it to interrupt us, I couldn’t in good conscience continue, all thoughts of his pain eclipsing whatever resolve I’d previously possessed. “You overexerted yourself. Let me patch you up.”

I seized his arm and dragged him as carefully as I could back to camp, feeling a mixture of frustration and secret relief that I could keep this secret a little while longer, for with it I could keep his good opinion…and most importantly him .