Days passed as Binara and Diyan trekked through the wilderness, squelching on muddied ground for hours on end. As if aching limbs and sore feet weren't bad enough, rain impeded their progress, drenching Binara's spirits until she was nothing short of miserable. Diyan was silent, his face making it clear that he was contemplating the odds stacked up against them.

Due to bad weather, they often had to seek shelter under rocks and makeshift roofs that Diyan assembled with a rubber tarp and whatever he could find. Their supplies dwindled—bread, preserves, nuts and fruits that the kinnaras had prepared. However, water was abundant—from springs that fed ponds and streams. Binara didn't appreciate the icy water, but she went for it anyways, just so she could wash off the dirt.

On the third day, Diyan set up camp next to the stream they had been following since the day before. Thankfully, the drizzling had stopped, and the clouds parted just enough to allow moonbeams to shine through. A cold breeze sang through the clearing, carrying with it the symphony of insects—their music composed of sound and light. The vegetation was darker here, though it retained the characteristic colorlessness of Holmanloke.

"I'm going to the stream," Binara announced, wiping the specks of mud on her jeans. "Or do you want to go first? I actually want to get a sponge bath, so it'll take some time."

"Sponge bath? You can have a proper bath." He started assembling a firepit with rocks and twigs, though the damp was obviously a problem. "I need some time to set this up."

Binara didn't feel inclined to strip all the way down out in the open. Awkwardness aside, the worst case scenario was something pouncing on her while she was vulnerable. Maybe a terrifying beast. She shuddered.

Diyan paused to watch her. "Are you worried, my lady?"

"Huh? No," she said. "I was just—"

"I swear on my honor that I would never peek or—"

A giggle burst out of her before she could stop herself. He looked so adorably horrified by the mere idea that she thought of him as a pervert.

"No, that didn't even occur to me," she finally said. "Anyways, what do you need time for? Set up the fire?"

A smile flitted over his lips. "You'll see when you get back."

"Okay."

"Wait." He rummaged inside the cart and tossed something in her direction. "Manora had packed this in for you."

She caught the object. It was a handmade soap composed of ayurvedic ingredients. It was prettier than the normal soap in Diyan's palace, with decorative flowers on the top. That's nice of you, Manora.

Binara wove through the trees as she followed the gurgle of water. Mist swirled, amping up the ghostliness of the environment. Leaves crunched underfoot, damp and brittle, and she spied small critters up in the trees, their eyes glinting in the murk.

Eventually, the ground sloped down to the rushing stream. She skipped over the rocks and found the ideal spot for her bath.

The shoes came off first. Then she stripped down to her underwear. The water was frigid, but the sponge bath made her feel clean. Manora's soap gave off a mild flowery smell, which improved her mood.

Half an hour later, Binara made her way back. Dressed in a clean tee, she felt like herself again. Her stomach emitted a growl, which she ignored. When she came upon the firepit, she stopped dead in her tracks.

A fire burned cheerfully, blue-white flames licking a pot, which hung suspended from a stick rack. A napkin lay spread out on the ground, atop which was an assortment of wild mushrooms. Diyan sat on a fallen log close by, busy peeling a carrot. His cloak lay folded next to him, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. The flames danced in his eyes, which turned to survey her.

Binara trudged up to the log. "You went foraging?"

"About time we had a warm meal, wouldn't you say?" He held up the carrot. "The last of the produce. These will go bad if we don't have them now."

As she sank down on the log next to him, she watched him peel the carrots with practiced ease before slicing them into the pot. He stirred frequently while a mouthwatering aroma tickled her nose. How the heck are you good at cooking?

Diyan seemed to read her mind, since he glanced at her with a subtle smile on his lips. Binara pretended to take an interest in the plants at her feet—slate grey ferns touched with purple.

"It just occurred to me," Diyan whispered.

Binara glanced at him. "Mm?"

"We're having a picnic, after all. Not the ideal scenario, but..."

She facepalmed. "Uhuh."

He chuckled.

The mushrooms soon went into the pot, and the sizzle suggested that he was stir-frying them. He added some water from his bottle and closed the pot.

"Can you take it off the heat in five minutes, my lady?" he asked, getting to his feet. "I'll be back soon."

"Yeah, okay," Binara mumbled, scooting closer to the pot.

He arrived sooner than she expected, dressed in a new shirt that was also black. His hair glinted wetly under the moonlight, as if he stepped out of Hevana's fashion magazines. She quickly averted her eyes and wondered if he looked the same as a human, except for the silver eyes. Maybe you had a fan club of noblewomen fawning over you.

"Shall we eat?" Diyan asked, donning his cloak as he resumed his position on the log.

Binara nodded and accepted the roti he handed her. Diyan lifted the pot and placed it between them. She took an experimental bite of his stir-fry, and her tongue reveled in the warm umami tang, with just the right amount of salt and spice.

"Like my cooking?" He popped a piece of roti into his mouth.

She swallowed. "It's, um, okay."

He smiled, dimples and all, which she pretended not to see.

As they ate, the dark cloud of peril and uncertainty hung over her, aggravated by the fact that their progress was so slow. Yet, at that moment, she clung onto the warmth of the food and the demon prince seated beside her. Nayana's face rose unbidden in her mind, and she stifled a smirk. Alone time with a human boy would have been scandalous by itself, and here she was, having run away from home to spend days with a demon out in the wild.

"Binara," he said, taking a drink from his bottle, which he had refilled from the stream, "I'm going to reach out to Raya. You wanted me to send her out to find Piumi."

"Oh, yeah." Binara swallowed the last mouthful of roti.

"I'd need a location."

Her face scrunched up in thought. "Piumi said she hangs out in the park, so she can't be far from there. Raya knows her."

"That's still...vague, but I'll try."

Binara watched in fascination while Diyan closed his eyes as if to meditate. A tranquil quiet descended, except for gushing water and the susurrus of tree leaves. It felt eerie and out of place after the storm that had raged and the circumstances they were in.

"How can you connect with Raya when she's so far away?" Binara asked.

"Well." Diyan sat unmoving like he had turned to stone. "I'm not sure exactly how demonic powers work, but time and space are not as rigid as people think. They bend and warp—mysteries we might never fully understand. So distance might not have meaning for the mental link that I share with Raya."

Binara was surprised by the answer when she expected him to spew nonsensical mysticism to explain away what was beyond him. That was what she would have expected from an ancient prince.

"If you have no more questions, my lady," Diyan said, his lips turned up at the corners, "I would need to concentrate to reach Raya."

"Right." Binara settled down to do her own meditation, which she hoped would ease the anxiety bubbling inside.

It wasn't easy to mute her sixth sense when she was surrounded by ectoplasm. It was even more heightened when she closed her eyes and blocked her visual input. Objects in her immediate vicinity registered in her brain, including Diyan. He had bottled his aura, but it still outshone everything else like a dazzling light.

Perhaps it was all these factors confusing her thoughts, but it took her too long to realize that another presence had entered her radar. Diyan was faster, jumping to his feet—right when she snapped her eyes open.

Everything happened almost too fast to comprehend.

Battle cries erupted. A dozen nagas attacked. Diyan shot out a hand, and a wave of dark energy swept through the air like a supernatural scythe. It hit three naga warriors, hurling them back. Their bodies writhed, scales gleaming.

"Binara, get back," Diyan yelled, fending off two more nagas.

Adrenaline flooded her system. Her hand dived into her backpack and closed around her slingshot. That was as far as she went.

Scaly hands yanked her back, and a dagger appeared at her throat. Another poked her side. Two nagas had sneaked up behind her while the others drew Diyan's attacks. It was almost as if the serpentine creatures anticipated their moves.

She screamed. Diyan spun around, fire in his eyes and aura radiating out. Her captor shouted words from the ancient tongue while his grip tightened. The dagger hovered closer to her throat, within a hair's breadth of cutting her. Binara stiffened.

Diyan lowered his hand, and a deathly stillness descended. His cold gaze bored into the naga, and dark mist undulated around him. His stance made it clear that he held back, but power oozed out—charged, menacing and palpable. In that instant, he was the embodiment of darkness, and there was no doubt in her mind that he was an Avatare—the most powerful demon conceivable.

The nagas stood no chance against him. That was precisely why they had used her as a hostage. Her stomach dropped.

Within minutes, the nagas disarmed them. The dagger retained its position at Binara's throat as they removed her backpack and bound her hands with rope. The other warriors also held their weapons at the ready. Oh, in case Diyan uses telekinesis. Involuntary tremors raced down her spine. Diyan was sure there were no naga settlements nearby, but they had launched a coordinated attack. What are they going to do with us?

The nagas shackled Diyan with iron manacles. Despite their hostility, they didn't strike him. In fact, they appeared wary.

Diyan made no attempt to speak to them, and it occurred to Binara that these hardened warriors might not even respond. They used their own language, and the sibilant speech made it harder to discern words.

Soon after, the nagas marched them through the trees. Three of them held onto Binara, weapons poised. Each step made her sag, and her heart rammed painfully in her chest. Wave after wave of panic smothered her. She gasped in a breath, struggling to clear her head. The clouds had obscured the moon again, darkening the shadows.

We need to fight. We need to escape. She kept repeating the words in an endless cycle—even as hope flickered and waned.