The bells of Eldoria rang with practiced elegance, their sound drifting across marble courtyards and gilded spires like a promise too polished to be true.
Kaelen stood unmoving at the edge of the Grand Court, armored boots planted firmly against stone worn smooth by centuries of ceremony. The early morning sun struck the castle walls at an angle that made gold veins shimmer through pale stone, casting long shadows that stretched like silent witnesses across the floor. Courtiers gathered in small clusters, silk brushing silk, voices lowered just enough to seem discreet though discretion, Kaelen knew, was merely another performance.
In Eldoria, words were weapons. Silence was sharper.
He had learned that early.
Kaelen's helmet rested beneath his arm, his face bare and expression neutral, though his senses were anything but relaxed. His eyes tracked movement instinctively the flick of a nobleman's fingers, the brief pause in a conversation when a rival passed too close, the way laughter arrived a heartbeat too late to be genuine. This was not a battlefield of steel and blood, but it was no less dangerous.
Especially today.
A shift rippled through the court, subtle yet unmistakable. Conversations softened. Postures straightened. The air itself seemed to draw inward.
Princess Aurelia had entered.
She moved with the effortless grace expected of a woman raised beneath crowns and chandeliers, her pale gown flowing like moonlight caught in fabric. The embroidery at her sleeves glimmered faintly, silver thread stitched in patterns that mirrored the kingdom's sigil. Her hair, a soft cascade of gold, was pinned just enough to frame her face while allowing freedom a calculated balance between formality and youth.
Kaelen did not turn his head.
He did not need to.
He knew her presence the way one knows the sun has risen by the change in warmth, by the quiet reorientation of everything else.
From the corner of his vision, he observed her greeting the court with practiced smiles and measured nods. Each gesture had been taught, refined, rehearsed. The Princess of Eldoria belonged to her people in every visible way. And yet, Kaelen had long learned to see the things others missed.
The slight tightening of her fingers when a lord bowed too deeply.
The fractional delay before her smile reached her eyes.
The way her gaze drifted, just once, toward the battlements beyond the open arches.
Longing, carefully contained.
Kaelen's jaw tightened imperceptibly.
He had sworn an oath to protect the royal family with his life, to serve without question, to stand as shield and blade until breath left his body. He had sworn it gladly. He had sworn it young. What he had not sworn what no vow had ever demanded was mastery over the heart.
Yet here he stood, feeling its quiet rebellion all the same.
A pair of noblewomen passed near him, their whispers trailing like perfume.
"the Marquis arrives next week"
"His Majesty is most eager"
"The Princess will be of age soon, after all"
Kaelen's grip tightened on his helmet.
Marriage. Alliances. Borders drawn not with ink, but with bloodlines.
The court thrived on such talk. Eldoria stood strong, but strength was never enough. There were always neighboring kingdoms watching, measuring, waiting for advantage. A princess was not merely a daughter she was a bridge, a treaty, a promise made flesh.
Kaelen lifted his gaze just slightly as Aurelia approached the dais where her father would soon appear. For a moment a fleeting, dangerous moment her eyes met his.
There was no smile.
Only recognition.
Something unspoken passed between them, as it always did. Not affection, not familiarity not openly. Just understanding. A silent acknowledgment that, despite the court's glittering facade, they were both keenly aware of the cage that surrounded her.
She looked away first.
Kaelen exhaled slowly through his nose, grounding himself.
This was not the girl he had once known racing barefoot across the inner courtyards, laughter echoing against stone. This was Princess Aurelia of Eldoria future queen, political prize, jewel of the realm.
And he was her knight.
Nothing more.
Trumpets sounded, announcing the arrival of King Theron. The court snapped to attention, bows rippling outward like waves. Kaelen turned fully now, falling into his role with flawless precision as the monarch stepped forward, regal and unyielding, crown catching the morning light.
The day's proceedings began formal addresses, minor disputes dressed in elaborate language, the endless theater of governance. Kaelen listened without hearing, watched without reacting. His duty demanded vigilance, not opinion.
Yet his thoughts betrayed him.
He remembered another morning, years ago, when the bells had rung not for ceremony but for celebration. When Aurelia had slipped him half a honey cake stolen from the kitchens, eyes bright with mischief. When the world had been smaller, simpler.
Before crowns grew heavy.
Before silence became necessary.
The bells rang again, sharper this time, pulling him back to the present.
Kaelen straightened, steel and discipline locking into place.
Whatever storms brewed beneath the polished surface of Eldoria's court, he would stand against them. He would endure the whispers, the schemes, the sacrifices yet to come.
That was his purpose.
Even if it cost him everything else.