A voice broke the silence.
"Cale, what are you doing here? Why aren't you asleep?"
I turned instinctively, startled—but it wasn't an enemy. It was the girl. The one Braska had called Mia. We'd met briefly this morning. I remembered her—fierce eyes, composed stance, the kind of presence only warriors earned. But none of that mattered right now.
I was craving a cigarette.
"Do you have one?" I blurted, voice almost trembling. "Anything will do."
Mia eyed me closely, her expression hard to read. I could tell she was analyzing every part of me. My sweat-drenched clothes, the trembling in my fingers, the way I was holding myself like a man seconds from exploding.
I must've looked like a lunatic.
This morning I was a composed diplomat; tonight, I resembled a junkie. Her silence weighed heavily, and I could see suspicion growing in her eyes. But instead of turning away or attacking, she said cautiously, "Wait here. I don't have one—but I'll get it."
Before I could reply, she was gone.
Moments later, she returned and wordlessly handed me a cigarette. I practically snatched it from her hands and lit it using the oil lamp outside the tent. I inhaled deeply.
The smoke filled my lungs, and with every exhale, the storm in my head began to clear.
I could finally breathe.
My mind slowly came back to me, and with it, the awareness of how I must have looked. I glanced at Mia out of the corner of my eye. She stood a few feet away, body tense, eyes locked on me—ready to strike if I so much as twitched the wrong way.
I gave a half-smile and said, half-joking, "You don't have to stand like that. I'm not going to attack you."
She didn't smile. Just stared.
"Are you an addict?" she asked bluntly. "Do you always lose it when you don't get a cigarette?"
I chuckled softly. "No. I'm not even a regular smoker. I only smoke when I'm... overwhelmed. It helps me think."
She tilted her head, skeptical. "Think? About what? If something's bothering you, just make a decision. Say yes or no. Why let yourself get like this?"
I looked at her carefully. She wasn't wrong. Her words were sharp—but honest. And somehow, they hit harder than she probably intended.
That's when the question surfaced.
Why was I so angry in the first place?
Braska hadn't threatened me. He simply proposed a deal. One that I could have refused. And yet, my reaction was violent, irrational. I had lashed out mentally, lost my calm, even felt an urge to destroy everything.
The cigarette wasn't the problem. It was the signal. I only smoked when I was on the edge—when I felt the Prince's presence clawing for control.
And now I realized it: the line between me and the Prince was starting to blur.
That terrified me.
If I lost control… if he took over…
Everything would burn.
I exhaled slowly. "You're right," I said.
Mia raised an eyebrow. "I am?"
I nodded. "I should've just answered him. Yes or no. Simple. But instead, I let myself spiral."
She crossed her arms. "That still doesn't explain why you reacted like that."
I sighedl, and then I asked, "Why are you here, anyway? Did Braska send you to spy on me?"
Mia scoffed. "No. I'm on night watch. Saw someone standing outside your tent—turned out to be you. Braska did ask me to keep a special eye on your security tonight, though."
That startled me.
Security? She sounded like Wellesley for a moment. Always worrying. I hadn't even contacted her today. She was probably losing her mind.
"I see," I murmured. "Well... thanks. For the cigarette. And the protection."
Mia grinned, her earlier suspicion fading. "Keep your thanks. If you're really that grateful, then fight me."
I blinked. "What?"
"A duel. You and me," she said eagerly.
I laughed. "Now? At this hour? You must be a battle maniac."
She smirked. "Afraid you'll lose?"
I shook my head, amused. "Not afraid. Just thinking practically. If we spar, who'll do the night watch?"
Her eyes widened as realization struck.
"Oh gods, I forgot about that!" she gasped. "If Braska finds out I skipped duty to chat with you, he'll eat my ears!"
She turned and dashed back toward her post, but before disappearing into the shadows, she called out, "We'll finish this duel some other time!"
I smiled and took one final drag from the cigarette. The silence returned—but this time, it was peaceful.
Inside my head, the Prince stirred.
"I still don't get why you're calling this a good deal," he said. "We're giving them everything—food, medicine, intel. And what do we get? A vague promise of power?"
I didn't respond at first. I just watched the smoke curl into the night sky.
Then I whispered, more to myself than to him, "Sometimes, power isn't taken. It's earned."