Applause thundered through the grand hall, echoing beneath the high, vaulted ceilings like a storm of pride and reverence.
The banners of Vandenberg swayed gently with the draft of movement, their golden threads shimmering against the candlelight.
And yet, Clara could barely breathe.
Her father's voice carried above the cheers deep, commanding, and full of the pride of a king. "Rise, Duke Caelum Ren Sinclair."
The young general obeyed.
The moment he stood, the air in the hall shifted as if even the wind dared not disturb his poise.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in dark ceremonial armor that caught the light in sharp, regal glints.
His hair, as black as midnight, framed his face in soft waves that brushed just above his collar.
Yet it was his eyes that stilled Clara's world, crystalline blue, clear as the frozen lakes of winter, and just as piercing.
It was him...
The boy in the journal...
The cat with blue eyes.
Now no longer a fleeting memory, but a man, one who carried both power and danger with the ease of a crown.
King Matthias gestured proudly toward him. "Duke Caelum Ren Sinclair youngest to ever command the Royal Legion, and the man who brought the Northern Rebellion to its knees. Vandenberg owes him peace and prosperity."
Nobles bowed their heads.
Murmurs rippled through the hall like wind through silk admiration, awe, envy.
But the King wasn't finished.
His tone softened, though still filled with authority. "However, his duty extends beyond the battlefield."
Clara's breath caught.
Her father turned toward her, his expression warm, proud yet edged with something weightier, something that made her pulse quicken.
"Clara." he said, his voice carrying through the still hall. "As the future queen of Vandenberg, your safety must be absolute. Therefore…" he turned back to Ren "the Duke is hereby appointed as your personal protector. He will guard you with his life, by royal decree."
The words struck like thunder.
The Duke stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing against the marble.
Each measured step drew him closer until he stood before her.
Clara could barely meet his eyes.
She felt the burn of a thousand gazes upon her, but all she could see was him.
The quiet intensity in his gaze, the composure that seemed carved from stone and beneath it all, a strange warmth that felt painfully familiar.
The Duke dropped to one knee before her.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then, with deliberate grace, he reached for her hand.
His glove was cold at first, smooth leather against her skin but when he removed it and his bare fingers brushed hers, a rush of warmth spread through her chest.
He bowed his head.
"Your Highness..." he said softly, his voice deep and calm but edged with something unspoken, something that trembled in her bones. "It will be my honor to serve and protect you… at all cost."
Then his lips brushed the back of her hand light, reverent, and yet searing in its effect.
Clara's breath hitched.
The hall spun in slow motion, her pulse fluttering against her ribs.
The moment his lips left her skin, her fingers trembled and he looked up.
Those blue eyes met hers again.
For a heartbeat, everything else vanished.
The hall faded into a blur of color and sound.
The king's proud smile, the murmurs of nobles, the banners overhead all distant.
There was only the quiet electricity between them, the weight of unspoken recognition.
'Aiden…'
Her heart whispered the name she dared not speak aloud. 'I will save you.'
And now, standing before her, he had under a different name, beneath armor and duty.
"May I entrust my daughter's safety to you, Duke Sinclair?" King Matthias asked, his tone ceremonial but filled with paternal command.
Ren didn't look away from Clara as he responded. "With my life, Your Majesty."
The King smiled, satisfied. "Then it is settled. Henceforth, you shall serve as Her Highness's guardian and commander of her royal guard."
Applause filled the hall once more.
But Clara barely noticed.
All she could think of was the weight of his gaze the way it lingered, almost reluctant to break away.
The faint curve of his lips, like the ghost of a memory she thought she'd lost forever.
When Ren finally rose, he bowed once more to her, a gesture of duty, though his eyes told a different story.
Then he turned and stepped back beside the throne, his dark cloak trailing behind him like ink spilled across marble.
Clara's heart was no longer steady.
Her pulse echoed in her ears like the beat of war drums.
She barely noticed when her father began to address the court again.
She barely heard the nobles whisper of how handsome, how noble, how young the Duke was.
All she could see was the way his hand had trembled ever so slightly when he kissed hers.
The Duke of Vandenberg.
Her sworn protector.
The man she had lost in a different timeline.
"Aiden… Caelum Ren Sinclair…"
Her lips parted in a silent breath, her gaze never leaving him.
The applause slowly faded into respectful silence.
The King's booming voice filled the great hall once more, carrying a tone of authority that left no room for defiance.
"From this day forth..." King Matthias declared, his gaze shifting between Clara and the Duke, "you two shall be bound by duty and trust. My daughter's safety is now your sacred charge, Duke Sinclair. But protection cannot be built in the distance."
Ren stood tall again, his expression calm and composed though a faint flicker of something unreadable passed through those blue eyes.
The King turned toward Clara with a gentle smile, his voice softening. "Clara, my dear, you will be seeing the Duke often. As your guardian, he will accompany you to councils, ceremonies, and even your daily affairs. I trust you will treat him not only as your protector, but as a companion of the court."
Clara blinked, her heart stuttering in her chest.
"F-Father…" she began, her voice small, uncertain.
King Matthias chuckled warmly, misreading her hesitation as shyness. "It will do you well, my daughter. You are to ascend as queen one day and a future queen must understand her kingdom's shield as well as her crown."
Then, turning to Ren, his tone deepened the voice of a king addressing his most loyal knight. "I want you to spend time with her, Duke Sinclair. Get to know her habits, her routines, her temperaments. Learning to read her before danger ever dares approach her. A protector who does not know the one he guards cannot truly defend them."
Ren bowed his head respectfully. "As you command, Your Majesty."
The King's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Good. Starting tomorrow, you will accompany her on her morning stroll through the palace gardens. Afterward, she will show you her study and the library wing, the very heart of her days. You may report to me once you've grown accustomed to her schedule."
The words struck Clara like a quiet thunderclap.
Her pulse thrummed in her ears. 'Every day?'
She would see him every morning, every afternoon the man whose very presence already sent her world tilting off its axis.
Her father, oblivious to her inner turmoil, raised his goblet in a toast. "To the safety of the kingdom and to the unity of trust between our house and our finest general!"
The nobles cheered.
Clara forced a smile, dipping her head gracefully as etiquette demanded.
But her thoughts were chaos, a swirl of disbelief, excitement, and the lingering warmth where his lips had touched her hand.
When she dared to glance at him again, Ren was already watching her not with the sharp scrutiny of a soldier, but with something far gentler.
The flicker of recognition.
The faint ghost of memory.
Their eyes met, and for one silent heartbeat, the noise around them dulled again.
Clara's lips parted slightly, she almost spoke his name.
Almost...
But then he looked away, bowing once more as the court began to disperse.
"As you wish, Your Majesty." he said again, his tone even and unreadable.
King Matthias nodded in approval. "You may retire for now, Duke Caelum"
Ren stepped back, the movement precise, composed.
But as he passed by Clara, his shoulder brushed ever so slightly against her gown an accident, perhaps, yet it sent a shiver through her entire being.
She didn't turn to watch him go.
She couldn't.
The moment his presence receded, it felt as though the air itself had thinned.
Clara pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath her palm. "How am I supposed to face him every day… when just one glance feels like this?"
From the dais, King Matthias chuckled softly, unaware of her turmoil.
"You'll like him, my dear." he said with fatherly fondness. "The Duke may seem distant, but his loyalty is unmatched. You'll soon see there's more to him than the title and the blade."
Clara forced another smile and nodded faintly. "Yes… Father."
But inside, she wasn't certain whether the trembling in her hands was from fear or from something far more dangerous.
Because she now knew the truth.
The man who would stand beside her every day, the man sworn to guard her life… was the same one who had once promised her heart.
The same boy she thought existed only in her memories.
Duke Caelum Ren Sinclair...
Aiden...
And tomorrow, their paths would cross again this time, not as fleeting souls from a forgotten past… but as a protector and a princess.
Bound by duty...
And by something neither of them dared name.
------
Morning arrived draped in gold and silence.
The palace gardens of Vandenberg glimmered beneath the touch of dawn fountains whispering, petals trembling under pearls of dew.
Even the air felt freshly woven, carrying the faint fragrance of lilacs and roses that lined the cobbled path.
Clara stood beneath the marble archway, her gloved fingers curled lightly around a parasol.
Every detail of her attire, the pearl buttons at her sleeves, the pale-blue silk cascading in folds was immaculate.
The perfect image of a royal daughter.
Yet beneath the composure, her heart beat far too fast.
She heard him before she saw him, the steady rhythm of boots on stone, the faint rustle of his cloak brushing against the morning air.
"Your Highness." his voice came, smooth and deep, carrying that familiar calm that once used to make her feel safe and now only made her heart ache.
She turned slightly, enough to acknowledge him but not enough to meet his eyes. "Duke Caelum"
Ren stopped a few paces behind her, bowing lightly. "You're up earlier than expected."
"I prefer quiet mornings." she replied coolly. "Before the court begins its noise."
He chuckled lowly. "Then perhaps I should tread softer."
"Perhaps you should." she said, her tone clipped but steady. "I don't recall asking for a company, Duke Caelum."
He smiled faintly, the kind that revealed nothing and yet made her pulse stutter.
The sun caught the dark strands of his hair, setting a faint glint over his sharp profile. "His Majesty insisted I spend time with you, remember? I'm only obeying orders."
She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. "Then you may stand there and consider your duty fulfilled."
He chuckled low, quiet, dangerous. "Still as stubborn as ever."
Clara froze.
The way he said it as ever was too knowing, too intimate.
Ren studied her, his gaze calm but curious.
The sunlight touched his dark hair, threading faint glints of bronze through it, while his uniform black trimmed with silver fit him like armor forged by heaven itself.
He looked every bit the noble warrior the court whispered about.
Handsome, composed, untouchable.
And yet… it was those eyes.
The very same shade she once saw by a quiet lake when he called her princess in a voice filled with mischief and warmth.
She tore her gaze away before he noticed the tremor in her breath.
They began to walk or rather, she walked, and he followed with patient precision.
The garden stretched endlessly before them, filled with birdsong and color, but Clara barely saw any of it.
Every step she took felt heavy with unspoken memory.
After a long silence, he spoke again. "You seem… distant, Your Highness."
"Do I?" she asked without looking back.
"Yes." he replied simply. "Almost as though you're avoiding me."
Clara stopped, turning halfway toward him, her expression poised. "You are mistaken, Duke. I have no reason to avoid my assigned protector."
"Assigned." he repeated softly, the corner of his mouth curving. "A cold word for what feels… fated."
She felt her chest tighten. "You speak too boldly for a knight, my lord."
"Forgive me." he said, though his voice didn't sound remorseful at all. "I only speak what I see."
"And what do you see?" she challenged, lifting her chin.
He moved closer.
Slowly...
Deliberately...
Each step was unhurried confident, measured, like a predator closing in on something precious it didn't wish to frighten.
The faint crunch of gravel beneath his boots echoed through the stillness, and Clara's pulse began to quicken, loud enough that she feared he might hear it.
Ren stopped just short of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"I see a princess." he murmured, "trying very hard not to remember me."
Her breath caught.
"Don't you really remember me, Princess?" he asked, voice hushed, every word deliberate.
Her breath caught. "I do."
He tilted his head, lips curving with a teasing edge. "Then you should have greeted me properly."
"I don't see why I should." she snapped, though her voice trembled. "You've changed, Duke. You hide behind titles now."
Ren's gaze softened, but there was mischief there too the kind that belonged to the man who used to make her laugh when she tried to act serious.
He leaned closer, one hand braced against the stone beside her head.
"Titles, masks… you seem to have a thing for both." he murmured. "After all, you danced with one."
Her eyes widened. "You—"
He smiled slow, deliberate, and unbearably familiar. "It was also me, Clara. The man who danced with you in the dark."
Clara's heart skipped.
Her fingers curled against her gown, the memory of that mysterious dance flashing back the warmth of his hand, the whisper against her ear: 'It's too lonely to watch her highness dance alone.'
"I knew it already!" she breathed, trying to sound composed, but her voice wavered. "You're the cat who doesn't like to show his face."
Ren's laughter was soft, rich with amusement. "Ah. So the princess's mind is as sharp as this cat's claws now."
He leaned in just a little more, until the space between them was barely a breath. "Tell me, Clara… do you still think I'm hiding?"
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "You always are."
"And yet." he whispered, his eyes glinting like the ocean at night, "you still found me."
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
The world narrowed to the warmth of his nearness, the scent of roses, the faint echo of the past pressing against the present.
Then Clara turned her face aside, struggling to steady her voice. "You shouldn't be here."
Before she could take another step, Ren's hand shot out not roughly, but firmly catching her wrist.
The contact sent a shock through her veins, burning and electric.
"Don't..." he said quietly. "Don't run from me again."
Then he straightened, with a smirk. "His Majesty ordered me to stay by your side, remember? You'll be seeing me every day, Princess. I suggest you get used to it."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Princess." And with a graceful bow that was both mocking and reverent, he stepped back, leaving her heart pounding and the ghost of his laughter lingering in the garden air.
And when he walked away, Clara finally let herself breathe though the air that filled her lungs felt heavier than ever.