The next morning, the palace woke as usual, but for Kaelen the air felt different—he knew each passing hour brought him closer to the journey ahead. He spent the early hours in the training yard, but his thoughts kept drifting back to dinner, to his father's words about taking a chef along.
In the kitchen, Ael was busy as always, arranging trays for breakfast, giving quiet instructions to the younger boys. Outwardly, it was a normal day, but inside he couldn't stop replaying the moment he'd overheard the king's suggestion.
When Kaelen finally entered the hall for breakfast, the usual chatter of the household filled the room. Servants moved in and out, carrying warm bread, fruits, and tea. Kaelen's eyes, almost without his permission, searched for Ael. Their gazes met for only a brief second before Ael lowered his head and continued serving.
Neither spoke, but both felt the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. It was just another day in the palace.
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The day before prince going to work.
That evening, the family gathered around the long dining table. The lamps glowed softly, the air rich with the scent of roasted lamb and warm bread. Servants moved quietly, placing dishes down one after another. Ael, as usual, stood at the side, ready to step forward if needed.
The king set down his goblet and looked at his son and asked,
"Tell me, son, whom do you want to take with you on this journey?"
Kaelen's hand stilled on his cup. For a heartbeat, he didn't lift his eyes. Names crossed his mind, but none seemed right. Then, almost before he realized, the truth slipped out.
"…I want Ael to come with me."
His voice was calm, but inside, his chest tightened, waiting for the silence that followed.
The words settled into the air, heavier than he had expected. The king studied his son with a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ael, hmm? I had thought you might say that." He leaned back, eyes warm but thoughtful. "If that is your choice, then so be it."
Kaelen gave a small nod.
The dinner ended quietly, the servants clearing the table as the family began to leave. Kaelen excused himself first, hiding the storm of thoughts in his chest.
But the king did not rise yet. Instead, he turned to one of the guards.
"Send the head chef to my office.
Later that night, the head chef entered the king's study, bowing low. The king's voice was calm, though his gaze was sharp.
"I want to know if Ael can accompany Prince Kaelen on this journey. It will be long and demanding."
The chef hesitated for a breath, then nodded firmly.
"Your Majesty, Ael is skilled and dependable. If the prince wishes it, he will go."
The king leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
"Good. Then it is settled."
He sat at the edge of his bed, hands pressed together, staring at the floor. His father had spoken it so simply, as though it were just another order in the life of a prince. But to Kaelen, it was something heavier. The thought of Ael by his side on the long road—two days away from the palace, away from eyes that always watched—sent a rush through his chest he didn't want to name.
And yet, beneath that flicker of excitement, was fear.
What if he refuses me? What if he looks at me the way he did last night, distant, guarded?
Kaelen let out a long breath and leaned back against the headboard.
When the head chef returned from the king's office, the kitchen boys were already tidying up after dinner. The clatter of dishes and soft chatter filled the air, but Ael stood quietly near the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth, his eyes distant.
The chef's gaze fell on him, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then he cleared his throat.
"Ael," he called, his tone carrying more weight than usual.
Ael straightened, worry flickering across his face. "Yes, Father?"
The older man stepped closer, lowering his voice so the others wouldn't overhear. "The king has decided something. Tomorrow, you will accompany Prince Kaelen on his journey."
Ael blinked, stunned. His heart gave a sharp, confused beat. "M–me? But… why me?"
"Because the king said so," the chef replied, softer this time, though there was the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "He trusts your cooking, and…" he paused, as if choosing not to say more, "…and you will go. Pack what you need."
Ael lowered his gaze, nodding slowly. His hands tightened around the cloth until his knuckles whitened.
Two days on the road… with him?
The thought both unsettled and warmed him, a storm he didn't know how to calm.
He reached his small chamber, closing the door softly behind him. The silence pressed in, broken only by the faint crackle of the lantern flame. Slowly, he opened the old wooden chest at the foot of his bed and began to gather his few belongings. A couple of simple shirts, neatly folded, a spare pair of trousers, and a thin blanket he always kept with him.
As he packed, his hands trembled slightly. It wasn't fear of the journey—it was the thought of spending two whole days close to Prince Kaelen. The memory of the previous nights—the hug, the closeness, the unspoken things between them—kept tugging at him.
Yet despite his doubts, he folded the last piece of cloth, tucked it inside, and tied the bundle shut. Tomorrow had already been decided.
That night, neither Kaelen nor Ael could sleep.
Kaelen lay awake, thinking about the journey, but mostly about Ael—how close he would be, and yet how hard it was to speak his heart.
In his small room, Ael sat on his bed, restless. The king had chosen him to go with the prince. He felt both nervous and strangely proud, wondering how he could face Kaelen now.
Two people, in two different rooms, under the same moonlight—both thinking of each other, both unable to close their eyes.