She's the Prince

Chapter 35

Oasis

The sun beat down mercilessly upon the desert, turning the vast expanse of sand into a blinding sea of gold. Heat waves shimmered across the horizon, giving the illusion of movement in the otherwise barren wasteland. It felt as if the desert itself was breathing under the relentless glare of the sun.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Callan's voice cut through the oppressive silence, laced with worry. It wasn't the first time he'd asked.

Ares wiped sweat from his brow, a chuckle escaping his lips, though it lacked its usual strength. "Callan, for the tenth time, I'm fine," he said, rolling his eyes, but there was a brief wince that betrayed him, a flicker of pain that he quickly masked. "You worry too much."

Callan, however, wasn't convinced. "You've been off since the fight with that centipede. You don't look well."

Ares' hand instinctively pressed against his side as he staggered slightly, though he waved Callan's concern away. "Relax," Ares said, forcing a grin. "I'm tougher than I look."

Frustrated, Callan rubbed his forehead. "I mean it. I'm worried."

Ares turned to face him, his teasing tone softened by fatigue. "You don't trust me when I say I'm fine?"

"It's not that—"

"Then drop it," Ares interrupted, though his voice held less bite than usual. He shot a sidelong glance at Callan, his smirk returning, albeit weaker. "But I'll give you this—you're persistent. Almost as stubborn as I am."

Callan shook his head, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe that's how I killed that giant snake back in the Zodiac Forest. Too stubborn to die."

Ares raised an eyebrow, half-amused. "Is that how you think it happened? I saved you, remember? You and Wezn were out cold."

Callan chuckled softly, though his eyes stayed on Ares, scrutinizing every movement, every flicker of discomfort. "And here I thought you were just a mystery wrapped in fancy clothes."

Ares shot him a sideways grin but kept walking, his pace steady despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. Behind them, the soldiers trudged forward, their faces drawn, eyes squinting against the blinding light. Each step became heavier as the heat sapped their strength.

"Prince Ares," one of the soldiers rasped, his voice dry from thirst. "You've already proven yourself. We're still awed by what you did to that beast."

Ares waved a hand dismissively, smirking. "That? That was nothing. Don't start doubting me now."

The soldier gave a nervous smile, but Ares' words felt hollow, even to himself. His muscles ached, and the constant heat pressed against his body like a heavy weight. Still, he pushed forward, unwilling to let anyone see the toll the desert had taken on him.

"Whose bright idea was it to invent clothes like these?" Ares muttered under his breath, tugging at the thick layers of his robes. Stripping off two layers, he stuffed them into his pack.

A sudden shift in the wind brought with it a faint scent—something different, cool and damp. Ares' eyes narrowed as he sniffed the air.

"Is there an oasis nearby?" he asked, glancing over at Callan.

"Oasis?" Callan repeated, frowning. "I've been through these parts before, but I don't remember seeing one."

Ares' irritation flared, and he scowled. "We won't idle in the sun. I'll go ahead and find it."

"Wait," Callan grabbed Ares' arm. "You shouldn't go alone. It's too dangerous."

Ares yanked his arm free, his gaze hard. "I'm not asking for permission. We're wasting time, and supplies are running low. If I find anything, I'll signal."

Before Callan could argue further, one of the soldiers collapsed, his knees sinking into the scorching sand. Ares kneeled alongside him instantly, furrowing as he felt the ground's scorching heat.

"Help me get him up," Ares ordered.

The others rushed to assist, though their movements were sluggish from exhaustion. Ares gave the fallen soldier his water flask and watched him drink enthusiastically.

Callan stared at him, incredulous. "You're giving him your water?"

"He needs it more," Ares replied, his tone firm.

"And what about you?" Callan shot back. "You'll need water too."

"I have enough," Ares shrugged off the concern.

"That's not enough," Callan growled, frustration boiling over. "If you collapse, we're all in trouble."

Ares stood, meeting Callan's eyes with a glare. "I don't need your protection, Callan."

Without another word, Ares marched forward, leaving Callan behind, his heart heavy with unease.

***

The day dragged on, and the desert's heat gave way to the cool stillness of dusk. Shadows stretched long across the sands, and the golden hues of the desert shifted into deep blues and purples beneath the crescent moon.

Suddenly, Ares stopped. His gaze fixed ahead, his instincts sharpening. He created a fireball and threw it away without warning. The flames illuminated the darkening desert, revealing a glimmer of water far ahead.

"There it is!" Ares shouted, his voice filled with relief. "The oasis!"

The soldiers, their weariness momentarily forgotten, rushed after him. The sight of the oasis felt like salvation—lush palm trees, the sound of water lapping at the shore, a place to rest.

Ares dropped to his knees by the water, splashing it onto his face. The cool liquid was a brief reprieve, but even as his body relaxed, an unsettling feeling lingered in his chest. He glanced at Callan, who stood silently by the edge of the oasis, his expression unreadable.

"We'll camp here tonight," Ares said, his voice quieter now. "Get everyone over here."

Callan nodded, but his eyes didn't leave Ares as the prince sank into the grass, his exhaustion finally catching up. The others began to gather, grateful for the respite, but Callan remained, watching Ares closely.

After a moment, Callan quietly draped Ares' discarded clothes over him, offering warmth against the cool desert breeze. He hesitated, his eyes lingering on Ares' face, the tension lines etched into his features even in sleep.

Just as he turned to leave, Ares stirred, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't need your help, Callan."

Callan sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I know. But you've been pushing yourself too hard."

As the night settled in, Callan stood guard, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The oasis may have offered temporary respite, but something in the air felt wrong. Despite the tranquility, Ares' troubles were far from over.