"I want to sleep," Kael announces with a fake yawn, already trudging toward the bed like a lazy cat settling into its favorite sunspot.
Harry doesn't flinch.
He just stands there, arms crossed, eyes locked on him like a statue with an attitude problem.
Kael throws a quick look over his shoulder. "I said, I wanna sleep."
"Yeah, I heard that, so good night," Harry replies. Still unmoving. Still watching. Still annoying. Why is this guy standing there like a statue?
Kael turns fully, blinking at him. "Wait, are you... gonna stand there and watch me sleep? You are not seriously staying here, are you?"
"We're not past winter yet, and your condition tends to worsen when it gets too cold," Harry says matter-of-factly. "So yes, I'm staying."
"No, you are not," Kael says, eyebrows rising. "I need some space. I'm not a baby. Come on, leave." he says getting off the bed, and starts nudging Harry toward the door.
It's like trying to push a tree trunk, Darien's body has zero strength right now.
"I'm not leaving you alone tonight, you know I can't." Harry resists calmly.
"Why not?! It's not like anyone is going to kill you or scold you when I'm dead because you left me here alone, no one cares." Kael finds himself saying that absent mindedly.
"Well, I care. So maybe I'll kill myself or scold myself if that happens." Kael's breath hitches.
By now he has no doubt that Darian and his bodyguard had something, and if they didn't, then his bodyguard had something for him.
There's no way he is overthinking about this.
But Harry looks like what he just said is nothing. Or rather, he is just pretending that his words just now didn't mean more than just words.
"Look, you're literally bleeding again. Let me fix that."
"Nope. I can handle it." Kael disagrees.
"Why are you being like this tonight? You're usually the clingiest pe..."
Kael freezes mid-push. "Excuse me?"
Harry raises an eyebrow. "What? You're always whining about how creepy the palace is at night. You once made me light two extra candles because you thought the curtain looked like a ghost." Harry adds amused.
Kael internally screams. Darien, you insufferable brat. His face twists, a mix of disbelief and betrayal.
Harry watches the expression slowly bloom and smirks. "Wait... now it makes sense. You want me gone so you can... have some alone time, don't you? You know you could just tell me to give you some minutes."
Kael squints. "Alone time? What do you mean, with that crooked smirk on your lips?!"
"You know…" Harry leans in slightly, lowering his voice, "jerk off."
"Ew! What the... just get out." Kael recoils so fast he nearly trips over the rug.
Harry bursts into laughter.
"That is so disgusting! Just for now because it's the last thing on my mind." He glances toward the hall and secretly grins, sudden. "Hey, what's that?!"
Harry instinctively looks.
Kael doesn't wait. He shoves him hard, slams the door, locks it with a click, and sighs in triumph.
"Darien!" Harry pounds once. "You know this is for your own good!"
Kael presses his forehead to the door, rolling his eyes. "So is peace and quiet. Go away! Good night."
He walks back toward the bed, wincing as he sees the blood soaking through the bandages.
The pain is sharper now, pulsing like a heartbeat. He unwraps the cloth and tosses it aside, sucking in a breath as cold air hits the open wound.
His hands move automatically, he's done this before. Back in Ironvale, injuries were common, treatment was crude, and sometimes you had to save your own skin. Literally.
He remembers a herb.
Not rare, not delicate, just a stubborn little weed they used to crush between palms. It stung like hell but worked wonders. It stopped bleeding, numbed pain, and helped wounds knit faster.
It never grew in clean gardens.
It liked wild places, damp soil, tangled bushes, shady patches along forest edges.
Kael's eyes shift to the window.
He grabs a torch from the bracket near the door. The flame is low but steady. Perfect.
Kael opens the window and leans out. Cold wind slaps his face, and the drop below isn't deadly, but high enough to make him curse under his breath.
He doesn't see anyone outside.
He climbs.
His fingers dig into the cold stone, boots scraping as he slowly lowers himself. Every muscle in Darien's worn-out body trembles with the strain until his feet hit the grass with a soft thud.
He lands in a narrow patch between hedges. It smells of moss and damp earth.
The palace looms behind him, windows dark and silent. But he knows better than to relax, this is a palace, and guards are everywhere.
He switches off the torch and begins moving, sticking to the shadows, crouching behind statues and hedges. Once, he nearly runs straight into two guards.
He ducks behind a pillar, heart pounding, breath held.
The guards pause, exchanging confused glances.
"Did you see something?" one of them asks.
The other squints into the dark. "Probably nothing."
Kael waits, frozen in place, until their footsteps fade.
But the palace is massive, and confusing, especially for him because he is new here. He finds himself circling the same fountain twice.
"What is this place, a cursed maze?" he mutters, annoyed.
Eventually, he stumbles into the less-manicured edges of the garden, where nature takes over. Weeds poke through cracked stones, and the hedges grow wild and unshaped.
Near a wall, he spots it.
Thick leaves with pale green veins, the herb. He knew he could find it anywhere bushy.
He kneels, fingers brushing the plant. A strong earthy scent rises. Minty. Bitter.
Just like he remembers.
He grins, plucking a few and shoving them into his pocket like treasure, body aching but victorious.