ENTWINED FATE

The river was lower than it should have been. Lucas noticed things like that. He stood at the bend where the current slowed, boots planted in wet sand, sleeves rolled to his forearms. The air smelled of silt and coming rain. Across the water, the trees were too still. He let the fishing line drift. Behind him, the hut was quiet. Smoke curled lazily from its chimney. The old fisherman had gone to town before sunrise, leaving Lucas alone with the river and his thoughts — which he preferred. Solitude was easier than people. People asked questions. The line tugged. Lucas reeled it in slowly, carefully. A small silver fish flashed in the light before going still in his hand. Clean. No wasted motion. He unhooked it and dropped it into the basket. A crow called somewhere upstream. Lucas straightened. The sound hadn’t come from the trees. It had come from the path. He didn’t turn. If someone were watching, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him react. Instead, he stepped deeper into the water and rinsed his hands. Calm. Unhurried. A pebble shifted behind him. There it is. He let the sound settle in his bones before he moved. Whoever it was hadn’t tried to hide the first step — but the second had been careful. Lucas lifted the basket and walked toward the bank, every movement loose and ordinary. He crouched, set the basket down, and reached for his knife to clean the fish. His other hand slid to the dagger at his belt. The air felt different now. Tight. He sliced cleanly through silver flesh. The blade flashed red. Another step behind him. Closer. Lucas kept working. If they wanted him dead, they would have taken the shot already. Which meant they wanted something else. The third step stopped just beyond the reeds. Close enough to hear his breathing. Lucas wiped the knife on his sleeve and finally stood. He didn’t look back. “Lost?” he asked mildly. Silence. The river moved between them, steady and indifferent. Lucas picked up the basket and started toward the hut. The presence moved too. Matching him. Following. The path narrowed through trees, roots cutting across the soil like old scars. Lucas adjusted his pace slightly — enough to test the other man’s footing. The steps behind him adjusted too. His jaw tightened. At the edge of the clearing near the hut, Lucas stopped abruptly. The footsteps stopped a heartbeat later. Too late. Lucas spun. The dagger was in his hand before the basket hit the ground. Empty air. The trees stood dark and close, branches tangled overhead. The path behind him lay quiet. But the silence wasn’t natural. It was listening. Lucas stepped backward once, slowly. A flicker of movement to his left. He lunged. Steel cut through fabric. A man stepped out from behind the tree as though he’d been leaning there all along. Dark cloak. Travel-worn boots. Hands visible. Unarmed — at least visibly. Lucas kept the dagger aimed at his throat. The stranger didn’t move. He studied Lucas the way one studies a puzzle — not with fear, but interest. Lucas shifted slightly, adjusting his stance. “You’ve been following me,” Lucas said. The man’s gaze flicked to the hut, then back to him. Assessing distance. Exits. “I’ve been searching,” the stranger corrected quietly. Lucas didn’t lower the blade. The wind picked up, stirring leaves overhead. “You’ve found nothing,” Lucas said. A faint smile touched the stranger’s mouth. “On the contrary.” Lucas attacked. It was fast — a forward step, blade aimed to disable, not kill. The stranger moved like water. He sidestepped, caught Lucas’s wrist, twisted —enough to redirect. Lucas shifted with it, using the momentum to drive his shoulder into the man’s chest. They hit the ground hard. The dagger flew into the grass. Lucas rolled, reaching for it. The stranger kicked it farther out of reach. They came up facing each other again, breathing controlled. No wild strikes. This wasn’t an ambush. It was a test. Lucas stilled. The stranger stilled with him. For a long moment, neither moved. “You fight like someone trained inside stone walls,” the stranger said quietly. Lucas’s expression didn’t change. “I fight like someone who prefers not to die.” The stranger’s eyes sharpened. A beat of silence. Then — “You’re easier to find than you think, Your Highness.” Lucas stilled.