Egor and Klaus stood in Jiro's study before dawn.
"This is madness," Jiro snapped. "You heard Vitos. Your mother has lost her mind. At best she'll babble nonsense. At worst she won't even recognize you. And you want to waste what little time we have on this?"
"Uncle," Klaus replied evenly, "I never gave you my word."
A pause.
"Until I see her with my own eyes, you have nothing."
Jiro's expression darkened.
"You're behaving like a spoiled child. Do you have any idea what it takes to reach that estate unnoticed? Days. Maybe longer. Every hour matters now."
Klaus didn't react.
"So there is a way to get there quietly," he said instead.
Jiro stared at him.
Then exhaled sharply and dropped into his chair.
"You're impossible."
"You can stop trying to change my mind," Klaus said calmly. "If you want my support, you'll tell me how to reach her."
Jiro leaned forward.
"August was just like you," he said, voice low and cutting. "Stubborn. Convinced he was the smartest man in the room."
A pause.
"He died for it."
Klaus's gaze didn't waver.
"I mourned him too," he said quietly. "That doesn't mean I intend to follow him blindly into your war."
Silence stretched.
Then Klaus turned slightly.
"Professor. The map."
"Yes, Your Highness," Skotsky said, stepping forward. "But I must insist—"
"I leave today," Klaus cut him off.
He looked back at Jiro.
"We'll need horses."
Jiro rubbed his temples slowly.
"If you refuse to listen to reason, then at least listen to strategy."
"I'll listen," Klaus said. "I won't promise to obey."
"Good," Jiro muttered. "Because this isn't something you can bluff your way through."
He straightened.
"You leave tonight. Quietly. Your father will learn you were here—if he doesn't already. What he must not learn is that you left under my protection."
A pause.
"I can give you two men. No more. A larger group will draw attention."
"I'll take Egor," Klaus said.
Jiro's gaze shifted.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Assessing.
Then back to Klaus.
"Of course you will."
A thin, humorless smile.
"Young. Reckless. Predictable."
He leaned back.
"And what exactly do you expect your bed slave to do out there?" he asked bluntly. "Warm you between ambushes? Keep you entertained while someone cuts your throat in the dark?"
The room went still.
Egor felt the words like a slap.
Klaus's expression didn't change—
but something in his eyes hardened.
"Watch your mouth," he said quietly.
Then:
"First — Egor is useful. In ways you don't understand. And won't, unless I decide otherwise."
A pause.
"I'm not explaining what he can do. Not yet."
Another pause.
"Second — I chose him because he increases my chances of staying alive."
A beat.
"Not because I want him in my bed."
Jiro held his gaze for a long second.
Then leaned back again.
"Do as you like," he said flatly.
—
They spent the next hour going over the route.
Not just roads—
alternatives.
Back paths used by traders.
Blind zones between patrol routes.
Checkpoints to avoid.
Places where border troops were known to pass.
Skotsky explained everything in detail.
There was a hidden way in.
Not marked.
Not official.
Years ago, through contacts still loyal to him—and through slaves belonging to those same contacts—he had arranged for a concealed underground passage to be dug.
It led beneath the outer grounds of the estate.
Into the lower levels.
Servant quarters.
Storage tunnels.
Places no one important ever checked.
"If nothing has changed," Skotsky said, "you'll be able to enter without being seen."
"If something has changed?" Klaus asked.
"Then you'll be walking into a trap."
Silence.
They memorized everything.
Twice.
—
When it was done, they parted.
Klaus and Egor returned to their room.
Breakfast waited.
Neither of them said much.
—
By midday, the sun was already high.
Bright.
Harsh.
They walked toward the stables.
"I told you," Egor said, staring at the massive black stallion, "I've never actually ridden a horse."
"It's not difficult," Klaus said. "Don't overthink it."
"That thing looks like it wants to kill me."
"Boy," Klaus called sharply.
A stable hand rushed forward and dropped into a deep bow.
"We need a trained horse. Calm. Obedient. Now."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"And stop bowing every two seconds," Klaus added irritably. "Bring that stallion. And the calmest mare you have."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The boy practically ran.
Egor exhaled.
"Maybe we should walk."
Klaus gave him a flat look.
"Do you understand how long that would take?"
"And if we're attacked?"
"I can deal with soldiers," Klaus said.
A faint smile.
"And if there are mages — you have me."
"That's not reassuring," Egor muttered.
—
The lesson went badly.
Very badly.
It took Egor five attempts to even get into the saddle.
With help.
"Hold tighter—"
The mare reared.
Egor didn't.
He was thrown off cleanly.
The ground slammed into his back hard enough to knock the air out of him.
For a few seconds—
he couldn't breathe.
Klaus was beside him instantly.
"Are you hurt?"
Then, sharply, to the stable boy:
"I asked for a calm horse."
"She is calm, Your Highness!" the boy stammered, already on his knees.
"It's not his fault," Egor forced out, pushing himself up. "Animals just… don't like me."
A short, bitter laugh.
"Even the pony hated me when I was a kid."
Klaus exhaled slowly.
"We don't have time for this."
A pause.
"One horse."
He mounted the stallion in one smooth motion.
Then reached down.
"Come on."
Egor hesitated.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea—"
"Do you see another option?" Klaus cut in.
A beat.
"If you're about to suggest walking, don't."
Egor sighed.
Then took his hand.
Klaus pulled him up in front of him.
Close.
Too close.
Egor felt it immediately.
The heat.
The solid press of Klaus's chest against his back.
He instinctively tried to shift forward—
Klaus's arm tightened, dragging him back against him.
"Stop moving," he said quietly. "Or I won't be able to control the horse."
A pause.
"Lean back."
Egor froze.
Then slowly did as he was told.
"If something happens," Klaus added, "I need both hands free."
The stallion resisted at first.
Muscles tense.
Energy coiled.
But Klaus controlled it easily.
Firm hands.
Absolute confidence.
Egor felt everything.
Every shift of weight.
Every breath behind him.
Every movement of Klaus's body against his back.
Heat spread low in his stomach.
Sharp.
Unwanted.
Impossible to ignore.
This is going to be a very long ride.
And I'm not going to survive it.
—
That evening, at Jiro's request, they attended one final dinner.
More highborn.
More eyes.
More masks.
Egor stood against the wall.
As always.
The table was heavy with food.
Meat.
Bread.
Wine.
Voices.
Everything felt normal.
Until it didn't.
Klaus's hand stilled.
His goblet touched the table.
Too carefully.
Then—
his body swayed.
He tried to stand.
Didn't make it.
He collapsed.
The room erupted.
"He's been poisoned!"
"The heir—!"
"Call someone!"
Voices overlapped.
Shouting.
Movement.
Panic.
Jiro stepped forward through the chaos.
"Silence!" he barked.
And people obeyed.
"Send for the physician."
Guards closed in.
Weapons half-drawn.
A tight circle around Klaus.
Egor was already there.
On his knees.
He lifted Klaus's head.
He looked—
wrong.
Too still.
Too calm.
Like he had simply… stopped.
"Move!"
The physician forced his way through the crowd.
Cold hands.
Precise movements.
He checked Klaus's pulse.
His eyes.
His breath.
Took his time.
Too much time.
Then stood.
"No sign of poison," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
A pause.
"The cause is unclear."
"Take him to his chambers."
—
Slaves rushed in with a stretcher.
"You," Jiro said, pointing at Egor.
"You stay with him."
A beat.
"No one enters."
"Yes, sir."
—
The room emptied slowly.
Reluctantly.
Klaus lay motionless.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The physician never came.
Egor sat beside the bed.
Running his fingers through Klaus's hair.
Slow.
Careful.
That feeling crept back in.
Cold.
Sharp.
Not again.
—
The door opened quietly.
Jiro stepped inside.
"Well?" he asked.
"Why isn't he awake?" Egor snapped. "Where is the physician?"
Jiro looked at Klaus.
Then back at him.
"He's fine."
A pause.
"He's sleeping."
Egor stared at him.
"I added it myself," Jiro said calmly.
Silence.
"You—what?"
"A sleeping draught," Jiro said. "Strong enough to drop him instantly."
Egor's thoughts clicked into place.
Slowly.
"You staged it," he said.
Jiro gave a slight nod.
"Now everyone believes the prince collapsed at my table," he said. "That he is ill."
A pause.
"And no one will question why he disappears."
Egor clenched his jaw.
"You could have told us."
Jiro's gaze sharpened.
"And trusted you to act convincingly?" he asked coldly.
A beat.
"I don't rely on chance. I rely on control."
—
Klaus stirred.
His breathing shifted.
Then his eyes opened.
"Did you enjoy your rest?" Jiro asked lightly.
Klaus blinked.
Focused.
Then looked at him.
"For a moment," he said hoarsely, "I thought you had decided to kill me."
Jiro smiled.
"Not today," he said.
And there was something in that smile—
something sharp.
Something wrong.
Something that felt far too close to the truth.