The sounds of people, playing children, and street shows filled the market, but Elara pulled Soren into a quiet alley. Her sharp eyes locked onto his golden ones.
"Did you just ensure the slave owner and the noble will both be dead by tomorrow?"
Soren's eyes turned cold. "Probably."
Elara's gaze didn't waver. "You know that if anyone finds out you killed two men, even you will be executed."
Soren's smile returned, thin and sharp as a razor. "I didn't kill them. I just gave them choices. The noble wanted to hunt a human. I gave him a real hunt. The man he took is a born killer. He will slaughter the noble and his soldiers in the woods, and I didn't tell him to do it. The noble bought his own death."
He paused, watching a merchant shout at a customer across the street, his face perfectly calm.
"And the sweet I gave the slave owner? It's not poison. It's just a cake filled with pure, concentrated spirit energy. For a trained warrior, it gives strength. But for a man like Khmer—greedy, fat, with a weak, untrained body—his heart will beat faster and faster until it simply bursts. The city guards will find him and say he was a fool who ate too much rich food. My hands are completely clean."
Elara reached up and played with a strand of her black hair, twisting it thoughtfully between her fingers.
"Your plan is flawless, Soren. But what about the sick slave you saved? What if he speaks? And... you just confessed your entire plot to the Emperor's daughter."
Soren stepped closer. They were close enough now that she could see the swirling flecks of gold in his irises.
"The slave will not speak. He is loyal to whoever keeps him breathing." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And you knew this plan from the beginning, Elara. From the moment I stepped toward the cage, you knew exactly how I would handle them."
He stepped back and spread his hands innocently, the "Golden Boy" mask slipping perfectly back into place.
"So please, don't arrest me, Princess. I've done nothing wrong."
Elara smiled. A real, beautiful smile. "Okay, okay. That was a good act. But I'm hungry."
Soren bowed dramatically, sweeping his hand toward the street. "Your Majesty, let us get some fruit."
They walked to a small stall and bought crisp apples and sweet grapes, the vendor too busy counting coins to notice the royal features beneath their plain hoods. Then, slipping away from the city gates, they walked into the ancient forest beyond.
Massive oak trees rose toward the sky, their branches intertwining overhead to form a living green canopy. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in golden shafts, illuminating patches of wildflowers and moss-covered roots. The air was cool, smelling of rich earth, pine bark, and wild berries ripening in hidden clearings. The chaotic noise of the market faded until only the whisper of the wind remained.
Soren walked ahead, glancing back at Elara. She looked bored, her eyes half-closed as she navigated the roots.
"Your Majesty," he said with a teasing smirk, "would you like me to carry you on my back?"
Elara shot him a sharp look. "Don't treat me like a weak girl. I come from the Dragon's bloodline."
Soren raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, my dragon lady. Please don't eat me for dinner."
He pulled an apple from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it effortlessly with one hand, took a bite, and chewed as they walked deeper into the woods.
Ahead, a massive tree rose above all the others—an ancient oak, its trunk wider than a merchant's wagon, its branches spreading like welcoming arms.
Soren jumped, grabbing a low branch, and pulled himself up. Then another. And another. He moved with the silent grace of a predator. Within moments, he had climbed high into the canopy. He dropped a thick rope he kept tied to a sturdy limb.
"Catch!" he called down.
Elara grabbed the rope and scaled the trunk after him.
When she reached the top, she settled onto a thick branch that curved perfectly like a natural bench. The leaves parted before her like a grand curtain.
Below them, the whole world opened up.
The Golden City of the Sun spread to the east—its shining walls, its crowded streets, its towering castle with the sun banner snapping in the wind. To the west, the forest rolled like a green ocean toward distant mountains, their peaks dusted with early snow. The river that fed the city's canals glittered like a silver snake.
Soren sat beside her, tossing a grape into his mouth.
"It looks nice," he said quietly.
Elara didn't look away from the horizon. "It is nice. It always is."
The song of birds and the distant echo of city bells drifted up to them. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the entire world in shades of amber and blood-orange.
"It's always more beautiful to see it from up here," she murmured.
"That's why I come here," Soren replied.
They sat in comfortable silence. The tree was their secret room—the branches forming walls, the leaves a roof. A place completely hidden from the brutal politics of the world below.
Then Elara spoke, her voice losing its playful edge.
"Soren... you always play dangerous games. I'm afraid one day, something terrible will happen to you."
Soren looked out at the setting sun. "I'm sure something terrible will happen to me eventually. But not today." He turned to her, his smile finally genuine. "Every job I do, I make sure no one knows. You and Nora are the only ones in this world who ever see me without my mask."
Elara's fingers tightened around her half-eaten apple.
"My brother is dead," she said quietly. "Tarek lost the war in the wild lands. My father had him killed because he showed weakness." She paused, her throat tightening with perfectly acted grief. "Now, the Emperor wants a new Mind of the Dragon."
Soren's expression did not change. His golden eyes held no surprise. He already knew.
"So," he said slowly, "the Emperor needs a new Mind. And he is searching for someone to carry the burden." He tilted his head, calculating. "Not bad."
Elara's eyes flashed. "The Mind of the Dragon is not a 'good' job, Soren. It is a death sentence. Whatever dirty, bloody work the Emperor doesn't want to do himself, the Mind must do it. That's why every single one of them dies young."
Her voice cracked perfectly. "My brother didn't care about good or bad. He just followed orders. But you... you're not like him."
Soren's smile faded completely.
He stood up on the high branch, balancing perfectly despite the wind catching his golden hair. He faced the burning horizon.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked. "What I promised?"
Elara nodded, watching his back.
Soren opened his arms wide, as if trying to embrace the entire bleeding sky. His voice was loud, clear, and filled with absolute conviction.
"I will make this world a nice place for everyone! A heaven without war, without problems, without dying to feed the greed of kings. A world where there are no borders, no dying for the gods. A world where no one dies from hunger or pain. Where everyone dies with a smile!"
Elara remembered. He was only five years old when he first said it. A small boy with big eyes and an impossible dream.
And she looked at him now, her face a picture of absolute devotion, while her heart remained as cold as ice.
"I will always be with you, Soren," she whispered, her voice like sweet honey. "I will help you rise above them all." And I will be the one who stay whit you always, she added silently.
The sun dipped below the mountains, plunging the forest into shadow.
Soren lowered his arms and looked back at her, his eyes shining with trust. "We should go home now, my dragon."
She stood, brushed the leaves from her cloak, and smiled warmly. "Lead the way, my golden fool."