Prince Auren of Afranthon tucked the last of his clothes in his bag. This should do it. He had everything he needed now: old clothes that he had found over the years, several knives, food, and even a few coins. He wrapped a scarf around the lower half of his face and tied up his long hair. He picked up the brown wig that sat on his dresser and slipped it on. He would be leaving tonight and knew that he would never come back. He never wanted to take over his kingdom. Granted, he was the third (and the last) in line for the throne, but that didn't mean he wanted to live his whole life in the palace. Auren wanted to explore the world, have adventures, meet new people—not sit in boring meetings. Besides, there was nothing for him here. He was closer to the palace maids than his own parents and brothers.

And with Ciarán's departure last year… well, there was no way Auren was going to marry someone that wasn't him. Ciarán had grown up in a nearby village and had found Auren nine years ago, when they were eight. Auren had wondered away from the castle and into Ciarán's village. They had ventured into the woods together, looking for things to climb, when Auren was bitten by a snake. Ciarán had immediately rushed to get help and Auren's parents were so grateful that Ciarán was welcome in the castle whenever he wanted.

Auren's room was simple, with rich red carpet and a wide bed. He never cared for it much, feeling stifled by the superfluous decorations. After checking to make sure none of his black hair showed, he slipped out the door.

He had forgotten how eerily quiet the palace was at night. When he and Ciarán had explored it when they were little, it was always filled with their soft whispers or giggles. Now, Auren had nobody to talk to. The enchanted fishes that swam in the translucent walls were still, and their eyes stared almost accusingly at Auren as he crept through the palace.

Auren contained a scream of joy when he stepped through the palace doors. Nobody had caught him, he wouldn't have to take over the kingdom and marry someone that wasn't Ciarán—he was finally free. The neighboring town was just an hour's walk away, and his feet weren't even sore by the time he arrived. Auren shivered as a harsh wind blew, wrapping his arms around himself.

The streets were packed with colorful tents, many with stalls in front. An exotic swirl of spices filled the air—nutmeg, peppermint, anise, coriander and many more Auren couldn't name. Gold fireflies filled the inky sky and many landed on Auren's head before flitting away. People were yelling out what they were selling—clothes, food, drinks, jewelry—but Auren ignored all of them, walking down the wide street and keeping his head down. Soon, the street opened up into a broad field and he immediately swore under his breath.

A large wooden stage sat in the middle of the field, with a small crowd in front of it. Ciarán was onstage, sitting in a small mahogany chair. His gold curls swayed softly as he played guitar. Auren took several deep breaths to calm down—surely Ciarán wouldn't be able to recognize him. He crept closer, deciding to hear him sing one last time before leaving for good. It had been such a long time since he had seen Ciarán, but he hadn't changed at all. He was still handsome—not in an obvious way, in a quiet way. In the way his smile made others smile and how he could always tell when someone was upset.

"If anyone wishes to, you may come up here and dance." Ciarán said. Several people immediately hopped on stage, mostly couples. Auren hung back, listening to Ciarán's soothing voice.

Suddenly, thin arms wrapped around Auren's chest. Auren yelped, looking down—and then up, because the person was a head taller than him. A boy was clutching Auren, beaming down at him. Auren sighed—he knew exactly who he was. His name was Asier, the boy Ciarán had left with a year ago. Auren's mother had been so disappointed that Ciarán had turned out to prefer men—he had been like a fourth son to her. Auren was glad that now he didn't have to explain to his mother that he was the same way.

"Come dance!" Asier chirped, unwrapping his arms and grabbing Auren's hand.

"No thanks." Auren said as Asier pulled him to the stage. Asier continued to ignore him, yanking him up the steps. Asier kept a firm grasp on Auren's hand, pulling him next to Ciarán. Auren groaned, but the music was so loud that no one heard him. Asier began to dance with him, jumping up and down—completely offbeat. Auren tried to withdraw his hand, but Asier's grip was too tight. Soon, he jumped along with him, mostly to avoid looking like an idiot.

Ciarán's song soon ended, and he waited as everyone finished applauding before he spoke, "Thank you. And I am sorry to say that that was the last song for tonight. If you wish to make a contribution, please speak to Asier." He pointed to Asier, who to Auren's dismay, was still holding his hand and jumping. "Goodnight."

The crowd slowly dismounted the stage, but many of them approached Asier with small coins. Asier released Auren's hand, pocketing the money with a bright smile. Auren tried to convince himself that it was the perfect time to make his escape—Asier was chattering away, and Ciarán was packing up his guitar. But he didn't want to go. He didn't want this to be the last time he saw Ciarán, he didn't want to have to deal with finding a place to rest and food. Just a bit longer. He thought.

Auren took a deep breath, made sure his wig was on correctly before approaching Ciarán. "You have a beautiful voice." He said, lowering his voice a few octaves. He hoped that a year apart would be enough time for Ciarán to forget what he sounded like.

"Oh, thank you." Ciarán said. "I'm Ciarán."

"Ah, um… I'm…" Quick, quick! He's going to suspect something if you don't hurry up! "Ailill." Auren just hoped it wasn't too similar to his real name. "Where will you be performing next?" Maybe he could conveniently bump into him again?

"I'm not sure." Said Ciarán, tightening the leather straps of his guitar case. "I don't really plan where I go."

"Come with us!" Asier called from across the stage. He was accepting a small handful of coins from a little girl. "You're fun to dance with."

"Asier, don't be a bother." Ciarán said, but his voice was soft.

"N—no! It's not. Erm… if it's alright with you, I wouldn't mind coming. I could help… set up…" Auren knew that no matter how much he tried to convince himself, he would end up following Ciarán anyway. It would be easier to just stick with him in the beginning, instead of trying to come up with excuses to track him down later.

"Then you're welcome to come, as long as you don't slack off." Ciarán secured his guitar case's straps over his shoulders.

"Yay!" Asier chirped. He sprinted across the stage and jumped on Auren, who nearly fell over. He immediately clasped his hands on his head to keep the wig securely in place.

He just hoped Ciarán wouldn't find out who he really was.