The Moon Garden should have been peaceful at night.
Silver leaves whispered softly in the breeze. The glowing flowers dimmed into gentle embers, lighting stone paths with quiet beauty. It was the kind of place meant for reflection.
Not bloodshed.
Aarav sensed the shift before he saw it.
Years of boxing and martial arts had trained his body to recognize danger in silence—the subtle change in air pressure, the wrongness in stillness.
"Kael," he said under his breath. "Stop walking."
Kaelith froze instantly.
The guards trailing them tensed, hands drifting toward their weapons.
From the shadows between the trees, shapes moved.
Too smooth.
Too deliberate.
"Assassins," Kaelith murmured.
The first blade flashed toward Kaelith's throat.
Aarav moved without thinking.
He stepped into the attack, deflecting the wrist with a sharp twist and driving his elbow into the attacker's ribs. The man gasped as air left his lungs.
Another lunged.
Aarav ducked, swept the attacker's leg, and brought his heel down on the man's wrist before he could recover. The dagger clattered across the stone.
"Protect the prince!" a guard shouted.
A third assassin vaulted over the garden wall, landing directly behind Kaelith.
Kaelith raised a hand, magic flaring—
Too slow.
Aarav pivoted, closing the distance in two strides. He caught the assassin's arm mid-swing and drove a precise punch into the pressure point beneath the jaw. The man collapsed unconscious.
Kaelith stared at him, stunned. "You fight like a trained soldier."
"I told you," Aarav said, breathing hard. "I don't enjoy it. I just don't lose."
Steel rang against steel as the guards engaged the remaining attackers. The Moon Garden erupted into chaos—blades flashing, mana flaring, shadows scattering.
One assassin broke through the guards, sprinting toward Kaelith with murder in his eyes.
Aarav moved to intercept—
But the assassin's blade shifted mid-run, angling for Aarav's exposed side instead.
Kaelith reacted on instinct.
He stepped forward and pulled Aarav back, magic surging from his palm in a golden arc that slammed into the assassin's chest and hurled him into the stone wall.
The man fell, unmoving.
Silence crashed down.
The remaining assassins lay bound or unconscious, the garden littered with fallen weapons.
Kaelith's chest rose and fell sharply. His hand was still gripping Aarav's sleeve.
"…You could have been hurt," Kaelith said.
Aarav met his gaze. "So could you."
The guards approached, kneeling. "Your Highness, the attackers bear no crest."
Kaelith's eyes darkened. "Which means they were sent by someone who knows how to hide their hands."
Aarav wiped blood from a cut on his knuckle. "Political enemies."
"Yes," Kaelith said quietly. "They were testing your worth to me."
Aarav frowned. "My worth to you?"
"In this palace," Kaelith said, "anything I value becomes a target."
Aarav let out a slow breath. "That's a terrible way to live."
Kaelith's gaze lingered on him. "It is the only way I have known."
One of the guards bowed. "Shall we escort the Sage to safety?"
Kaelith's jaw tightened.
He turned to Aarav. "You are under my personal protection now. You will stay in my wing."
Aarav raised an eyebrow. "That's not going to make me less of a target."
"No," Kaelith admitted. "But it will make you less alone."
Aarav studied him. The prince's composure was cracked, adrenaline still burning behind his eyes.
"…Fine," Aarav said. "But if I'm moving into your space, I'm not walking on eggshells."
Kaelith almost smiled. "I wouldn't expect you to."
As they left the Moon Garden, the silver leaves whispered again, as if the place itself had witnessed the shift.
This was no longer just a summoning.
It was a bond forming under fire.
And the palace, already restless with politics, had just gained a new fault line.