By now, by 8 a.m., the palace is just beginning to drag itself to life.
Hugh!
Kael groans, not even wanting to think about it, let alone see it. The slow, sluggish stirrings of Eldoria's palace irritate him more than they should.
He walks from the training field back toward his chambers, each step feeling like some cruel form of punishment.
Hates having to watch it all awaken, servants shuffling about with tired feet, carts creaking over polished floors, robes rustling like whispers that carry no weight.
No one calls out to him with that "Good morning, my prince." No respectful nods. Not even the slightest bow when he passes by.
They don't even glance his way.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Just how disrespected was Darien? A prince, yet treated like some common stray?
Kael's jaw clenches at the thought, his pace quickening.
This... this only fuels him further. The humiliation burns low and deep inside him, despite knowing none of them realize who he truly is. But the sting still lands. The bitterness still bites. And that makes it worse.
He storms into his chamber, frustration etched across his face like a second skin. But his scowl instantly softens when his eyes land on the coins left neatly on the bedside table.
His whole expression lights up like sunrise over a storm.
"Whoa. Harry, you are the most perfect man I've ever met in this world," Kael says, rushing to the coins like a starved man reaching for bread.
But he jumps when a voice speaks from the side.
"Am I?"
Kael hadn't even noticed him, Harry, stepping out from behind the door with that same annoying, smug smirk stretched across his face.
"What is your problem?" Kael exclaims, dragging a hand down his face with a groan.
"It's not my problem that you didn't see me," Harry says, completely unbothered.
"Yeah, whatever. And I can't believe you lied to me about the money. You didn't have it a few minutes ago, you couldn't have borrowed it that fast."
"You're welcome, if that's your way of saying thank you," Harry replies coolly.
"Thanks," Kael mutters.
"Don't leave this place without me. You know what I mean," Harry says, serious now.
"I wouldn't. I mean... I would never. You know I won't," Kael says quickly, glad Harry's not sticking to him like glue today.
He watches him leave, and the moment the door closes, Kael starts pulling off the stiff robes, throwing Darien's clothes around the room like he's shedding a skin that doesn't fit.
He wants to blend in.
No more attention. No more royal chains. Just freedom, at least for a few hours.
He looks for anything, anything at all that doesn't look noble, but he doesn't get even one.
He searches more in Darien's belongs, but still, he can't find any.
As he's close to giving up, he spots a long, slightly worn coat tucked near the back. It's probably Harry's, forgotten or left behind for reasons Kael doesn't care to question.
He throws it on and adjusts it swiftly. It's not perfect, but it'll do. A hat on his head to hide more of his face.
It hides enough. And with a little effort, he slips out of the palace.
There's no tight security in this palace, even if it's there, it's not tight as a palace should have.
And even the guards are still looking half-asleep, and that's perfect.
He Doesn't know much about the towns and markets in this kingdom, but he knows he won't get lost, even if he doesn't know the kingdom inside and out, the towns follow patterns. Markets hum with noise. He'll find what he needs.
Eldoria's capital is not far from the palace. Lucky for him.
The town bustles with life, fruit carts rolling down cobbled paths, children chasing each other between stalls, vendors shouting over one another about fresh bread, rare herbs, and beaded cloth.
The scent of grilled meat and baked pastries wraps around the crowd like an embrace.
Kael weaves through it all, his steps light but focused. He's not here to marvel. He's here with purpose.
When he spots the tailor's shop, he heads straight in. No hesitation. He gives clear instructions, the cut, the fabric colours, even the headgear. His tone leaves no room for back and forth.
"How much?"
"Fifteen coins," the woman says.
Kael blinks. Fifteen? That's it? For all that?
He shrugs. Works for him. He pays and gathers the garments carefully.
Everything's intact now. His disguise is complete. He sets out again, this time heading toward Ironvale palace, going for something that belongs to him. Something that matters all to him, everything else can stay, but not that.
He knows the routine. The palace gets deliveries from town daily, and the maids who handle that come back by 6 p.m. If he's going to slip in unnoticed, that's his window.
He makes it back in time, hiding nearby, close to the servant path, but out of sight. He treats his nearly healed wound with a bit of herb, gritting his teeth through the sting. The waiting doesn't bother him. He's used to waiting for the right moment.
Then it comes.
Just as expected, the group of maids return, chatting and balancing crates and cloth. He blends in when they are not looking. His new outfit sells the illusion.
He slips into Eldoria's palace.
His heart pounds, not just from the risk, but from something heavier. A silent, throbbing weight.
He stands once again inside the walls of the place that ruined him. That ended his life. All because of a lie.
His heart thunders harder when he realizes he might see him. The man he once loved. The man who he doesn't want to see anymore, the man who touched him like he meant everything to him, then turned and betrayed him.
Kael clenches his fists.
He doesn't want to see anyone, not him, not the cruel king who signed his death like it was nothing.
He only wants to find his sword. The one thing that belonged to him in truth. He'll get it. He'll leave before morning.
And when he returns?
He'll return not as a shadow or a whisper, but as a storm, one that will break Eldoria's pride and cruelty into pieces.