I was told early that the sun favored me.
It clung to my hair wherever I went, turning it brighter than gold, catching in loose strands when I laughed too hard or bent too long over someone else's work. The palace tutors used to curse it. Said it made me vain. The villagers said it made me visible.
Visibility, I believed, was a kind of honesty. And honestly, I loved being loved. Even those who thought I was vain, held a certain level of admiration for me.
And I'm not vain. I'm barefoot right now as I helped Old Marrek mend the fence, trousers rolled to my knees, sleeves torn at the seams from yesterday's harvest. The earth was warm beneath my feet. I preferred it to the palace marble floors streaked with gold. Marble never yielded. Marble never forgave mistakes.
"You're hammering that wrong, Your Highness," Marrek said, not unkindly.
I grinned and leaned closer, deliberately crooked the nail. "Then it's a good thing I wasn't born a carpenter."
Marrek snorted. "You were born a prince."
"A technicality. Don't hold it against me," I said lightly, handing him the hammer. "I was raised by half this village. That should count for something."
It did.
Children followed me like ducklings wherever I went. I was always lifting one onto my shoulders while another clung to my leg, sticky fingers fisting my hair. Somewhere behind me, someone laughed and called my name. Not Your Highness. Just Vyrin.
I love making people happy. I share bread at midday, giving the largest portions away before anyone could protest. When Old Man Marrek mentioned a broken plow, I disappeared and returned hours later with parts no one could afford and no one dared ask where I'd gotten them. And now I was fixing them together.
The palace would notice eventually.
"You're going to get caught," teased Elin, the miller's daughter, voicing my thoughts, brushing flour from my cheek with familiarity no courtier would dare.
I leaned into the touch, smiling slow and sweet. "I would likely be king by then."
She rolled her eyes. "One day the Queen Regent will–"
I lifted a finger to her lips. "No."
The smile never left my face, but something tightened behind my eyes.
"We don't speak her into the daylight," I said.
My stepmother existed at the edges of my life. After my father, the old King's tragic death, she ruled in my stead until I was old enough as was the custom. She ruled from the palace and I'd like to think I ruled from the soil, and though neither of us claimed the crown aloud, everyone knew which one the people had already chosen.
That knowledge frightened her.
That knowledge kept me alive.
For now.
"All done", I declared. "Time to get your herbs."
"You don't have to, young prince. You're too important for that."
I snorted. "Today I'm a pair of legs and a steady hand."
Silence again. Thicker this time.
Finally, Marrek's trembling fingers closed weakly around my sleeve.
"Be careful, young prince," the old man rasped.
I squeezed his hand gently. "I can take care of myself."
Mira stepped forward then, chin lifting. "If he's going, I'm going. So is Jethro."
Jethro sighed, rubbing his face. "I hate both of you."
I grinned. "That's the spirit."
We gathered baskets, blades, and courage. As we stepped outside, villagers watched from doorways with worry. The kind reserved for people you love too much. I felt it settle on my shoulders and carried it gladly.
The woods greeted us with birdsong and damp earth.
I moved easily beneath the trees, cloak slung loose over my shoulders, sleeves rolled up like any other villager headed for work. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in broken gold, catching in my hair and turning it brighter than it had any right to be this far from the palace.
Mira walked at my side, basket swinging from her arm.
"You're certain it grows this deep?" she asked me, stepping carefully over a root.
"Marrek swore on his remaining teeth," I said. "Which, admittedly, are not many but he seemed confident."
Jethro snorted from behind us. "He also once tried to treat a fever with onion beer."
"It worked," Mira pointed out.
"He passed out for two days," Jethro replied. "I don't think that counts."
I laughed, easy and unguarded. "The herb we need likes shade and wet ground."
"How do you know so much?," Mira said dryly. Then she glanced at me sideways. "You come out here often?"
"Often enough. And I study a lot of things about a lot of things in the palace." I said lightheartedly
She smiled. "Well, thank you for helping Old Man Marrek. It's brave. Or foolish."
"Depends who you ask." I said.
She leaned a little closer to me as we walked. "I'm asking you."
I lowered my voice and pulled her closer by the waist with one arm. "I'll be brave for you anytime, my lady."
I've been called an incurable flirt before but I can't help it. I loved the attention and I wasn't complaining about the pretty people it came from.
Jethro groaned. "You know," he said, "one day when he's king, you'll have to stop talking to him like that."
Mira didn't slow. "Why?"
"Because he'll have to marry someone important," Jethro said. "A noble. A princess. Someone with titles."
Mira shrugged. "Then it's a good thing today he's just Vyrin."
I felt warmth bloom in my chest. I liked being just Vyrin.
We found the herbs near a shallow stream, leaves low and dark, clustered close to the mud.
"There," I said. I used an arm to stop them from walking any further. "Careful. Don't bruise them."
Mira knelt, reaching for the plant
and a growl cut through the air like a blade.
We froze.
Another growl answered it.
I straightened slowly, hand moving to my sword.
From between the trees, three wolves emerged. Eyes fixed on us, hungry.
"Oh gods," Mira whispered.
Jethro grabbed a fallen branch, hands shaking. "We can ...we can take them, right?"
"No," I said calmly. "You can stay behind me."
I stepped forward, placing myself squarely between them and the wolves.
"Mira," I said quietly, "take the basket, Jethro, if they break past me, run."
"What about you?" Jethro hissed.
I smiled looking back for a second. "I'll be fine. They just need to be scared off"
The first wolf lunged.
I moved.
Steel flashed. I pivoted, slashing low, forcing it back without killing it. The second came in from the side I blocked, twisted, drove it away with the flat of my blade. My movements were clean and efficient.
The third circled.
Mira's breath came fast and shallow behind me.
I surged forward, shouting, blade striking stone, using noise and certainty to chase them off. The wolves broke, retreating into the trees with sharp, frustrated yelps.
Silence rushed in after them.
I stood still for a moment, sword lowered, adrenaline leaving my body.
Then I turned.
"Anyone hurt?"
Jethro stared at me, wide-eyed. "What do they teach you in that palace?"
Mira exhaled shakily, then laughed. "Remind me never to argue with you."
I sheathed my sword. "Did we get the herbs?"
Mira looked down at the basket.
"…Yes."
"Then Marrek lives another day."
The walk back was lighter.
Jethro wouldn't stop talking. Mira teased me about my "heroics." I teased back. I wished I could do more for them but until I could I would do what I can.
When the day's work was done, I ate in Striggers place – Mira and Jethro's family – until the sun dipped and the field cooled, shadows stretching long between furrows.
It was Hessel, their dad, who said it first, clearing his throat as if bracing for a scolding. "You should… you should go back now, Vyrin."
Others nodded, too quickly.
"The Queen won't like you staying," Mira added, forcing lightness into her voice, touching my houlder the make the words land softer.
"She must have noticed your absences," Hesel continues. "She just hasn't acted yet".
I dusted crumbs from my hands, watching them not amused now. I could feel it again: that familiar tightening in their shoulders when her name entered the air.
"She has eyes everywhere," Jethro murmured.
I stood, smiling for their comfort. "Then I'll spare you the trouble."
Relief rippled through them, thinly veiled and deeply felt.
They walked me to the edge of the village anyway. No one said much. Gratitude had given way to worry, and worry to fear. I hugged a child goodbye, accepted a bundle of dried fruit I didn't need, let Mira flick food at my sleeve one last time.
"Don't be pouty," she said softly.
I smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it."
They watched until I disappeared down the road.
Only then did they breathe.
The palace road curved east.
I did not follow it.
At the first fork, I veered west instead, toward the boundary pocket where the land thinned and the world grew quiet. The boundary had been raised to end the war between my kingdom, Heliandor and the war mongering kingdom, Crythalon. A war we were on the verge of loosing due to one man. The Reaper. A telekinetic with the power to decimate an entire battlefield turning everything and everyone to dust.
I climbed the low rise slowly, hands clasped behind my back.
The boundary revealed itself gradually, as it always did. A seam in the air where light behaved differently. Dim. Iridescent. Colors folding into themselves like breath against glass.
The light shimmered, soft and iridescent. It hummed faintly. Beautiful, in a peaceful sort of way.
I took a careful step forward.
Then another.
And with the third, the world opened.
Gone were the distant hills. Gone were the fields and the village beyond. The air here had weight, light dancing over itself in dim iridescent ribbons that folded in and out like living breath. Then, I entered the center, a pocket of space inside.
I paused, letting the soft, strange light wash over me. I ran a hand along the barrier behind me, amazed at the impossibility. From the other side, the wall seemed thin, almost like mist but it protects us. I could not cross the second wall on the other side of the pocket, into Crythalon. An Crythaloni could pass through their wall but they wouldn't be able to cross the wall leading into Heliandor.
I wondered what the pocket was for. A space where Crythalonis and Heliandorian could enter but not cross to the other side. Maybe it was created for the intention of negotiations. Must not have worked since no one uses it. My people were apprehensive they would find the opposition waiting for them inside. I imagined so was Crythalon. No one was curious enough to dare. Except me of course.
The boundary pulsed gently, indifferent.
I exhaled and sat under the mango tree there, boots crossed. From here, my problems felt small. Manageable. And I stayed there until the light dimmed with the coming dark, long after I should have gone home.
The colors shifted slowly, softly, folding into themselves: violet threading into green, gold glinting faintly at the edges.
I exhaled, leaning back on the ledge. For a little while longer, I let the silence of the pocket hold me, cradling me from the world outside until sleep took me.