The night pressed against the cabin walls, the silence inside only broken by the occasional crackle of the dying fire. Rubin sat by the window, his dagger resting idly in his palm as he kept watch. His gaze flickered to Himu, who lay on the small cot against the wall, his breathing steady but shallow. Elara had long since retreated to the loft above, leaving the two of them alone in the dimly lit room.

A restless sigh left Rubin’s lips. He shifted in his chair, his muscles aching from the day’s journey. He hadn’t meant to glance at Himu as much as he did, but something about the prince’s face—pale in the firelight, framed by strands of damp, silver hair—held his attention longer than it should have.

“You’re staring.”

Rubin started slightly, caught off guard by the quiet rasp of Himu’s voice. He had assumed the prince was still asleep. Himu’s eyes, though tired, held a glint of amusement as they met his.

“You should rest,” Rubin muttered, looking away, feigning indifference.

Himu shifted slightly, wincing but managing a smirk. “It’s difficult to sleep when someone is watching me like a hawk.”

Rubin huffed, shaking his head. “Fine. Next time, I’ll let you bleed out in peace.”

A soft chuckle escaped Himu’s lips before he winced again. “I’ll take my chances.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the air heavy with unspoken words. The tension of the past few days lingered, but in the quiet cabin, with danger momentarily at bay, something else settled between them—something subtler, softer.

“You didn’t have to help me, you know,” Himu said after a pause, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “You and Elara… You could have left me back there.”

Rubin frowned, fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger. “We’re not monsters.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Himu murmured, his silver eyes searching Rubin’s face. “I know what I am to you. To your people.”

Rubin exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the worn wooden floor. He should have agreed. Should have reminded Himu that he was an enemy prince, that saving him had been more of a reckless impulse than a conscious decision. But instead, he found himself saying, “It didn’t feel right to leave you.”

Himu studied him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes, exhaustion finally pulling him under.

Rubin remained where he was, watching the steady rise and fall of Himu’s chest. The fire cast shifting shadows across the room, and somewhere in the distance, an owl called into the night.

He wasn’t sure when it had started—this strange, unspoken understanding between them. But as the night stretched on and the fire burned low, Rubin knew one thing for certain.

Leaving Himu behind had never been an option.

Dawn arrived in muted grays, the forest outside still wrapped in mist. Rubin hadn’t slept. He kept watch through the night, listening for any sign of approaching danger. The exhaustion clung to him, but he shook it off as Elara descended the loft, her sharp eyes taking him in.

“Any trouble?” she asked quietly, glancing at Himu.

Rubin shook his head. “Nothing yet. But we can’t stay much longer.”

Elara sighed, rubbing at her temples. “He’s not strong enough to move far. We need at least another day.”

Rubin looked back at Himu, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Then we make sure no one finds us before then.”

A groggy voice interrupted them. “I can hear you whispering, you know.”

Himu shifted on the cot, grimacing as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His silver eyes, though still heavy with fatigue, carried their usual sharpness.

Elara crossed her arms. “And you should be resting.”

Himu smirked despite himself. “And miss the delightful tension between the two of you? Never.”

Rubin rolled his eyes but felt an involuntary twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. He walked over and crouched beside Himu’s cot, his expression turning serious. “Can you move?”

Himu exhaled slowly, testing his strength as he swung his legs over the side. He nearly doubled over, but Rubin’s hands were there in an instant, steadying him. Their eyes met, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before Himu nodded. “I’ll manage.”

Elara frowned. “That’s not reassuring.”

Rubin helped Himu to his feet, careful not to let him fall. The contact was brief, but something lingered—an unspoken acknowledgment, a trust neither had admitted yet.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Rubin stepped back. “Then let’s get ready. We move at first light.”

Outside, the forest remained eerily silent, as if holding its breath. The chase was far from over, and as Rubin adjusted his grip on his dagger, he knew their fight was only beginning.