The carriage rocked gently as the horses stirred back into motion, wheels crunching over uneven stone. Outside, the night stretched endless — a canvas of black velvet stitched with gold and silver threads, stars tumbling in their quiet arcs. The twin moons trailed above like watchful sentinels, one sharp, one soft, their light spilling across the rooftops and empty streets.
Within, the air was quieter still.
Velza shifted faintly in her sleep, breath rising and falling, her hand still half-curled as though reaching for something unseen. The old man's lantern swayed from its hook, casting fleeting shadows over Vaelen's face — shadows that deepened the hollows beneath his eyes, softened the sharpness of his crownless frame.
The night seemed too long. Too quiet. Too heavy.
And somewhere between the sound of the wheels and her fragile breathing, he realized it wasn't the cold that unsettled him most.
It was the warmth.
✦✦✦
The old man's voice cut through the silence, gravel-rough yet steady.
"Now we are outside the capital walls."
"Ok," Vaelen replied, his tone clipped, eyes fixed on the starlit dark beyond the window.
Minutes stretched thin, filled only by the rhythm of hooves and the groan of wood. Then—
Thud.
The carriage jolted sideways, wood creaking under strain as one wheel dropped deep into the unseen road. Lantern light swung wild across the interior.
"Your Highness," the elder called back, firm but not panicked, "it seems one of the wheels has caught in a hole."
The motion stirred Velza awake. Her head shifted, cheek brushing against him before her eyes blinked open—slow, dazed. She found herself lying across his lap, her breath warm against the The fabric of his cloak, the solid warmth beneath — her unwilling pillow was his thighs.
"This is just another dream," she murmured, eyes half-lidded, hands trembling as they rose to frame his face.
"It's just a dream," she repeated, voice fragile, clinging to the illusion.
Vaelen stilled, caught between her touch and the haze in her gaze. Her palms pressed against his cheeks, her words softer, pleading.
"It's just a dream…"
"No," he said quietly, a rare crack in his composure. "It's not."
The silence stretched, her hands still resting on him. His voice, her grip, the closeness — all of it blurring between waking and dream.
Then, like a shattering mirror, reality struck. Velza jerked back with such force that the carriage tilted, wheels groaning as wood cracked against stone.
"I am sorry, your highness, for the intrusion," she said quickly, voice shaken. "I… I have some questions."
"We will get to it," Vaelen replied, tone even, though his thoughts flickered elsewhere. "You were seated beside me, the carriage tilted, you fell onto my thighs. It is not your fault."
In his mind, he muttered silently, Lord forgive me for lying.
"But still, forgive me, your highness," Velza pressed.
"No," he said firmly. "It's not your fault."
From outside, the old man's voice called through the night:
"—Your highness, the wheel seems to be broken."
Vaelen exhaled, low and clipped. "Wait. I am coming out." He shifted, then added to Velza with a brief glance, "Now, if you'll excuse me."
✦✦✦
Velza watched him step down into the night, the faint glow of lantern-light catching the edges of his cloak as if the shadows themselves bowed away from him.
"Who was he?" she thought, her heart still unsettled from the dream-like haze. "He seems… different."
✦✦✦
He pushed the door open. The cold night air hit him at once—sharp, biting, laced with earth and pine. His boots struck dirt as he stepped down, cloak trailing like a shadow that clung close to his heels.
The broken wheel leaned deep into the rut, wood splintered and groaning under the carriage's weight. Lantern-light from the driver's post flickered against the trees, carving jagged shapes across the road.
Vaelen crouched low, his cloak brushing the ground. The old man lowered the lantern into his hand, and the prince steadied it, the glow catching his sharp profile. His fingers ran along the rim, pausing where the wood had cracked.
"It's not just stuck," he murmured. "The axle's stressed. Another mile like this and it'll snap clean through."
The old man blinked, startled. "Your highness… you've an eye for it."
Vaelen's lips curved faintly, though his gaze never left the wheel.
"Books teach more than diplomacy, Elder. Hold the light steady."
A soft crunch of boots in the dirt. Velza stepped closer, her voice a low whisper.
"We're not alone."
"I know," Vaelen replied just as low, his tone flat, deliberate. "Don't move unless I tell you."
Then, without missing a beat, his voice rose into casual command:
"Can you lift this?"
Velza froze. Did he just… ask? Not "lift this," but can you lift this?
"Hey—help me," Vaelen pressed, eyes cutting her way.
Velza snapped out of her haze, jaw tightening.
"Yes."
Velza bent at the frame, her hand slipping under the wood as if it weighed nothing. The carriage shifted with a groan, lantern-light quivering across the dirt.
Vaelen slid a broken branch beneath the wheel, wedging it firm. His movements were precise, controlled—yet his eyes never left the tree line.
The forest loomed in silence. Too silent. No wind, no crickets, no rustle of night things. Only the faint creak of wood and the ragged breath of the horses.
Velza's arms trembled, not from the weight but from what she felt—eyes. Watching. Waiting.
A flicker at the edge of the lantern's reach. A shape, gone as soon as it moved.
"There," Velza whispered.
"I saw," Vaelen replied, quiet as a blade being drawn. He straightened, dusting his hands off, voice suddenly louder, calmer—meant for listening ears.
"That should hold. Let's move before dawn makes us late."
But as he opened the carriage door for Velza, his free hand slid beneath his cloak, fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger hidden there.
The night did not move. It only watched.