The next day, after everyone had finished their evening tea, they quietly dispersed, each returning to their own chambers.
Prince Kaelen stepped into his chamber. He let out a weary breath before lying down on his bed, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling. After a long pause, he reached for the small silver bell kept beside him—a bell meant to summon his maid. The soft chime echoed, and soon the maid entered, bowing her head with respect.
Kaelen's voice was calm but heavy. "Go to the kitchen," he ordered. "Tell the kitchen boy to prepare something spicy for me and bring it here to my chamber."
The maid bowed her head in obedience, murmured a soft "As you command, Your Highness," and quietly left the chamber. Her steps echoed faintly along the corridor as she made her way to the kitchen.
When she entered the bustling space, the head chef glanced up in surprise. "What brings you here?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
The maid lowered her gaze respectfully. "The prince has given an order," she said softly. "He wishes Ael to prepare something spicy for him and bring it to his chamber."
At once, the head chef turned to summon Ael. "You heard her," he said with a firm nod. "Go on, lad. Make something worthy of His Highness."
Ael paused, startled, but then quickly began his work. His hands moved with practiced ease, gathering spices and ingredients. Soon the kitchen filled with a rich, fiery aroma as he carefully crafted a dish that carried both heat and flavor. When the tray was finally ready, Ael arranged it neatly and lifted it into his hands.
Carrying it with measured steps, he walked through the long halls of the palace until he stood before the prince's chamber door. For a moment, he hesitated—his chest tightening at the thought of stepping inside. Then, mustering courage, he raised his hand and knocked.
"Come in," came the voice from within.
Slowly, Ael entered. Closing the door behind him with quiet care, he crossed the room and set the tray gently upon the table. He glanced around—yet the prince was not in sight. His brows furrowed slightly in confusion.
And then, from the inner door, Kaelen emerged—fresh from the bath, his dark hair damp, droplets of water sliding down his temples.
Kaelen stepped out of the bathing room, his hair still damp, robe loosely resting on his shoulders. His eyes immediately fell on the tray now placed neatly on the table, the steam from the spicy dish curling into the air.
By the table, Ael stood quietly, his posture straight yet his eyes fixed downward, as if avoiding the prince's gaze. He hadn't spoken since placing the tray, only waited in silence, respectful yet uneasy.
Kaelen's steps were unhurried as he crossed the chamber. He glanced at the tray, then at Ael, his lips curving ever so slightly—not into a smile, but something unreadable.
"You brought it yourself," Kaelen said finally, his tone low, deliberate. Not a question—only an observation that carried weight.
Ael bowed his head slightly, answering softly, "It was your request, Your Highness. I prepared it as ordered."
The prince drew closer, his presence pressing against the space between them. He did not speak immediately, letting the silence linger, his eyes never leaving Ael. The air thickened, heavy with unspoken thoughts—Kaelen's quiet curiosity, Ael's restrained nervousness.
Finally, Kaelen moved to the table and pulled out the chair. He sat gracefully, reaching for the dish, but his gaze flicked once more toward the boy who stood, still waiting, still hesitant to breathe too freely in his presence.
Kaelen lifted the spoon, the aroma of spice rising warmly. He took the first bite slowly, letting the flavors settle on his tongue. For a brief moment, his expression remained unreadable—calm, collected—before a faint flicker touched his eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of the dish's perfection.
He set the spoon down with deliberate care. "It's strong… bold," he murmured, almost to himself, though his words carried enough weight for Ael to hear. His gaze rose, steady and sharp, fixing on the boy standing before him. "Just as I asked."
Ael lowered his head further, his fingers tightening slightly at his side. He could feel the prince's eyes on him, and yet he dared not meet them. His heart drummed faster than he wished to admit, torn between pride that his cooking had pleased the prince and unease at being studied so closely.
Kaelen leaned back in his chair, not breaking the silence. He picked up the spoon again, taking another bite, slower this time, his eyes never straying from Ael. The chamber seemed quieter than usual, the crackle of the fire and the faint clink of silver against porcelain the only sounds between them.
Every second stretched, heavy with an unspoken tension neither moved to break.
I didn't know what changed in the prince's eyes, but when he rose from his chair, I felt the air in the room shift. His steps were slow, heavy, and unyielding—each one pulling me into a current I couldn't resist. My breath hitched as he advanced, and before I realized it, I was backing away, my hands brushing against the cold glass window behind me. The thick curtains pressed into my shoulders, caging me in.
He stopped so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my face. My chest tightened. His hand came to rest on my shoulders, firm yet careful, as though he feared I might slip away if he didn't hold me. My lips parted, but no words came out. His gaze burned into me, lingering too long on my mouth, and the world seemed to fall silent—just his heartbeat, my trembling breaths, and the unbearable closeness.
I froze, unable to move, unable to think. Was he…?
The moment stretched unbearably thin, his lips inching closer, the distance nearly gone—
Knock. Knock.
The sound jolted me like a splash of cold water. He tensed, his eyes snapping toward the door. A flash of anger—no, frustration—crossed his face before he turned back to me. "Hide," he whispered, voice low and urgent.
Before I could react, his hand slid down to my arm, pulling me gently but firmly. He guided me behind the curtains, the heavy fabric swallowing me in darkness. My heart pounded so hard I feared it would give me away. Pressed against the glass, I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, the echo of his nearness.
"Enter," he called out, his voice suddenly calm, as though nothing had just happened.
And I was left in the shadows, breathless, wondering—what would have happened if no one had knocked?