A training yard. I'm older now, maybe ten, sparring with a boy around my age with dark hair and a mischievous grin. Kai, some part of me knows. My only real friend.
"You're getting better," Kai says, laughing as he blocks my practice sword. "Soon you'll actually be able to beat me."
"I beat you last week," I protest, and I can feel the smile on my face—genuine, unguarded, nothing like the careful mask I wear in the palace.
"That was luck," Kai teases, and we're both laughing now, and for just a moment, I'm not the crown prince. I'm just a kid playing with his friend.
But then astern voice cuts through our laughter. "Your Highness, your etiquette lessons begin in ten minutes."
I see Declarn standing at the edge of the yard, his expression kind but firm. He's been my constant shadow for as long as I can remember, butler and bodyguard and the closest thing I have to family besides my mother.
