The afternoon darkened fast—too fast.
A storm crawled across the sky with the determination of someone who had a personal grudge against their group.
Temir looked up and announced, with all the confidence of a man who once confused thunder with an angry goat:
"It's definitely not going to rain."
Lightning flashed.
Kanykei glared at him. "Stop talking."
Arslan scanned the horizon. "We need shelter. Now."
Ayisulu pointed toward a cluster of rock formations.
"There's a cave on the far side. It's small, but dry."
Arslan nodded at once. "Lead the way."
Kanykei muttered, "Of course she knows where everything is," but followed anyway.
---
The Cave (And Unfortunately Limited Space)
The cave existed exactly as Ayisulu remembered it: small, slanted, and very much designed for three people.
They had five.
Temir entered first.
"I call this corner!"
Kanykei entered second.
"No, I call that corner!"
Temir: "But I was—"
Kanykei: "Move."
Temir moved.
Kereg remained near the entrance, standing like a statue that disapproved of weather.
Ayisulu barely stepped inside when thunder cracked outside—and Arslan suddenly appeared beside her.
Not near.
Not nearby.
Beside.
As in too close for sane thoughts beside.
He brushed rain from his hair, exhaled, and said:
"There is not enough room."
Ayisulu blinked. "Clearly."
"We will have to sit close."
She choked on literally nothing.
"Oh," she said intelligently.
Arslan looked at her with that calm, neutral expression he used whenever he was actually feeling something he refused to admit.
"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked.
"No," she said quickly.
He narrowed his eyes.
"That was too fast."
"I'm not uncomfortable," she clarified, "just… spatially aware."
Arslan's lips twitched—his version of a laugh.
He lowered himself beside her, careful but still far too near. His cloak brushed hers. His knee nearly touched her leg. Their shoulders did touch for a heartbeat before Ayisulu jerked away.
Arslan looked down at her, amused.
"You're very jumpy."
"You're very… close."
"There is nowhere else to sit."
"Sit on Temir," she whispered.
Temir, overhearing, squeaked.
"I'm fragile!"
Arslan let out a quiet laugh that made Kanykei's eye twitch.
---
The Storm That Would Not Take a Hint
As rain pounded the cave entrance, the temperature dropped noticeably.
Ayisulu shivered before she could hide it. A breeze slithered in, cold as night.
Arslan noticed instantly.
He shrugged off half his cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
Ayisulu froze.
"Prince Arslan—"
"You're cold."
"I'm fine."
"You're trembling."
"No, I'm—"
He gave her a long, unimpressed stare.
Ayisulu gave up.
"Fine."
Temir whispered loudly to Kereg, "They're doing it again."
Kereg: "Doing what?"
Temir: "Talking like normal people but looking like they're about to write poetry at each other."
Kereg blinked. "That sounds terrible."
Kanykei sighed dramatically. "Can everyone stop being ridiculous?"
Arslan looked at Ayisulu instead of answering.
She looked away first.
---
A Little Too Close, A Little Too Quiet
Minutes stretched.
Thunder rolled.
Ayisulu shifted, trying not to think about how warm Arslan's cloak felt, or how close he sat, or how his presence filled the entire cave even when he said nothing.
He finally broke the silence.
"Ayisulu."
Her breath caught.
"Yes?"
He hesitated—not the prince, not the strategist, but the man.
"When you… warned me today," he began, voice low, "before the second boulder fell… You didn't hesitate."
Ayisulu stared at the cave floor. "There was no time."
"Even so. Most people freeze."
"I didn't."
"No," he agreed quietly. "You ran towards danger. You ran toward… me."
Ayisulu clutched his cloak tighter.
"I didn't think. I just—moved."
"Instinct?" he asked.
"Annoyance," she corrected. "You were doing something reckless again."
Arslan huffed a soft laugh.
"Then I hope you will continue being annoyed. It keeps me alive."
That was too much.
Ayisulu turned away, cheeks warming.
Arslan watched her for a moment, then—slowly, almost shyly—leaned his shoulder against hers.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
It was warm.
Too warm.
Too dangerous.
And also… comforting.
Ayisulu let her shoulder stay where it was.
Kanykei made a strangled noise in the corner.
Temir whispered to Kereg, "This is better than the traveling bards."
Kereg muttered, "I wish for silence."
---
The Deeper Thread
Just when Ayisulu thought Arslan had fallen asleep, he spoke again—softly.
"Ayisulu," he murmured, "there's something I need to ask."
Her pulse stuttered.
"Why do your instincts always lead you to me?"
Oh no.
Too direct.
Too real.
Too close.
Ayisulu swallowed.
Because she saw him fall in her dreams.
Because fate kept pushing her toward him.
Because every time she looked at him, something in her chest tightened—
But she couldn't say that.
She wasn't ready.
So she said the safest thing that still felt like the truth.
"Because you walk into danger too easily," she whispered. "Someone has to notice."
Arslan lifted his gaze to her, eyes softer than she'd ever seen them.
"Then keep noticing," he said. "I want you to."
Ayisulu stared at him, stunned.
Kanykei stared too, horrified by the flirting she was forced to witness.
Thunder boomed outside, but the real storm was in the space between them.
And Ayisulu wasn't sure she wanted shelter from this one.