Illyen's sleep that night was restless. Dreams came in fragments—shadows of faces, a ribbon fluttering in the wind, a tree that seemed impossibly tall. When morning light spilled through his curtains, he woke with the uneasy weight of half-forgotten things pressing against his chest.
At breakfast, Emily chattered happily with the other noble children, while Illyen remained quiet, spoon idle in his bowl. His eyes flickered, unbidden, toward the end of the table—toward Cael. The crown prince sat straight-backed, expression perfectly composed, but his gaze found Illyen's as though drawn by an unseen thread.
Illyen looked away first, heat prickling his ears. What nonsense… remembering past lives? He told himself it was impossible. Yet the way Cael had said it—the certainty in his voice—refused to leave him.
Later that day, the children were taken to the palace gardens for their lessons. Archery had been arranged beneath the shade of the great tree in the courtyard. The old branches arched overhead, leaves whispering with the wind.
Illyen's turn came reluctantly. He grasped the bow, determined to prove himself, but his fingers trembled just slightly on the string. Before he could release, a familiar hand reached out, steadying his wrist.
"Don't rush it," Cael murmured, so low that only Illyen could hear.
Illyen stiffened. "Stop interfering, Your Highness. I don't need your help."
But Cael didn't withdraw. His grip was firm, patient. "If you aim like that, you'll miss. Trust me."
The arrow flew—striking close to the target's center. Cheers rose from the watching children, but Illyen barely heard them. His heart was too loud, his body too aware of the prince's nearness.
He pulled away sharply, cheeks warm. "I didn't ask for your guidance."
Cael's lips curved, not quite a smile but close enough to unsettle him. "And yet, you listened."
Illyen's retort caught in his throat. He turned away quickly, pretending to study the rustling branches above. For the briefest moment, he thought he saw something—two children standing beneath the very same tree, laughing together. The image slipped away like mist, leaving only confusion behind.
Cael's voice followed softly, as though he had read his thoughts.
"You've stood here before."
Illyen spun toward him, red eyes flashing. "You speak in riddles. I have no memories of such things."
Cael's expression didn't falter. Only the faintest sorrow lingered in his gaze. "Not yet."
The wind stirred, carrying the weight of unspoken truth. Beneath the ancient tree, the thread between them grew tauter, unseen but undeniable.