Jesse remembered its first words.
She remembered the way he used to fight in the camps. Not wild, not showy—just… right. Even when he barely had any rank. Even when his only advantage was how fast he learned and how little he cared for tradition.
That hadn't changed.
But everything else had.
The court clothes.
The posture.
The weight behind his name, even if it still wasn't a real name.
He felt further away now.
And she? She wasn't the same either.
She'd bled since those days. Killed. Survived. She'd become someone who walked with purpose in courts like these, someone the prince himself trusted to act without crumbling.
She wasn't just a girl dragging herself through drills anymore.
She had a place.
A reputation.
But standing across from him now… it all felt muted.
Like she'd stepped sideways into a version of the past where things could have gone differently.
Maybe—just maybe—in this courtyard…
She could relive some of it.
Not all.
