Elara tightened the scroll with more force than necessary before handing it to Maera.
The parchment crackled under her grip.
"Maera," she said, her voice composed but edged with steel, "I need you to look into every man on this list. Discreetly. Their alliances, their debts, their ambitions. If you hear of a suitable bachelor not named here, bring him to my attention."
Maera accepted the scroll without hesitation. "At once, Your Highness."
"And Maera," Elara added softly, "leave no rumor untouched."
A knowing look passed between them.
Maera bowed and withdrew.
When the chamber doors closed, silence fell like a heavy curtain.
The untouched food on the table seemed suddenly absurd , sugared fruits, honeyed bread, roasted pheasant , luxuries meant to nourish a future bride.
Elara stared at it as though it belonged to someone else.
Marriage.
Alliance.
Strategy.
That was what the court called it.
Her mother had called it something else.
Love.
Her parents' love had once been real , bright, warm, fierce in its devotion. She remembered laughter in the gardens. Whispered conversations beneath moonlight. A king who had once smiled.
But after her mother's death, everything shifted.
The palace grew colder.
Her father grew distant.
And Elara learned swiftly that love was a privilege royalty could rarely afford , and even more rarely keep.
Now these men sought her hand not for her heart but for her crown.
They wanted power.
Territory.
Influence.
None of them wanted the girl who still tended vines in secret corners of the garden.
None of them wanted Elara.
She lifted her teacup and took a slow sip.
Then something clicked.
A spark.
A reckless, intoxicating idea.
She stood abruptly.
Kael was stationed outside her chambers, as expected.
"Ser Kael," she called.
He turned and bowed. "Your Highness."
"I intend to rest. I find it… uncomfortable to be watched. Allow no one inside except Maera. If anyone inquires after me, inform them I am exhausted."
His gaze lingered just a fraction too long.
He was too perceptive.
Too controlled.
"As you wish."
She returned inside and shut the door softly.
Then she smiled.
Time to breathe.
Time to think.
Time to disappear.
She moved to the farthest corner of her wardrobe, shifting velvet gowns and silks until her fingers brushed against a forgotten wooden box layered in dust.
She opened it carefully.
Inside lay a simple gown of soft plum linen , modest, unadorned, practical. The sort worn by a merchant's daughter or traveling herbalist.
Unremarkable.
Invisible.
Perfect.
She stripped from her royal attire and slipped into the linen dress. No corset. No jewels. No crown.
She wrapped a plain scarf over her hair and pulled on worn leather boots.
In the mirror, the princess vanished.
A commoner stared back.
She crossed the garden, brushing her fingers across vines she once tended with her mother, until she reached the old ivy-draped stone arch , innocent to the eye, forgotten by most.
She pressed her palm against a particular stone.
A low grinding echoed.
The arch shifted inward.
A hidden passage.
Known only to royal blood.
She slipped inside.
The tunnel smelled of damp stone and forgotten centuries.
Faint shafts of dying sunlight slipped through cracks above, guiding her steps. Queens before her had walked this path when danger pressed too close.
Tonight, danger pressed from within.
At the tunnel's end, she pushed upward and lifted the wooden hatch concealed beneath fallen leaves.
Fresh forest air rushed in.
She climbed out, brushed leaves back into place,
A shadow moved.
Her breath caught.
She stumbled backward, her heel catching on exposed roots. Pain flared across her arm as she fell,
Strong hands caught her.
Steady.
Unyielding.
Kael.
She collided against his chest, his arms securing her instinctively.
"Ser Kael,by the heavens!" she breathed. "How did you find this place? How did you get here?"
His expression was infuriatingly calm.
"As I told Your Highness," he said evenly, "to protect you, I must remain close. Your behavior earlier suggested deception. I chose the most probable route of escape."
Her eyes narrowed. "That does not answer how you knew of this passage. This land is forbidden. No subject is permitted near it."
"Precisely," he replied. "Which makes it dangerous for you."
There was no accusation in his tone.
Only fact.
"If an enemy saw you slipping alone into the forest," he continued, "you would be dead before a single guard realized you were gone."
The words were blunt.
Cold.
Yet beneath them was something else.
Concern.
Genuine. Unmasked.
She had seen that look only twice before , from Maera… and from her mother.
Her pulse quickened.
"And what," she countered softly, "if leaving through the palace gates draws even more attention?"
"At the gates you have hidden sentinels, scouts, shadow guards loyal to your house. Here, you have none."
He stepped closer.
"If you insist on escaping, then at least allow me to ensure you survive it."
Her heart did something traitorous in her chest.
"You are full of secrets, Ser Kael."
A flicker passed through his eyes , something guarded.
"Secrets keep you alive, Your Highness."
She became suddenly aware she was still in his arms.
Too close.
Too aware of the warmth of him.
He lowered her gently to her feet.
"You must be more careful," he said quietly. "Not everyone who seeks you does so with noble intent."
She lifted her chin.
"Well," she said, brushing past him, "is that not your duty? You have repeated it all day. I am under your protection. Ensure nothing happens to me."
For the first time, something resembling amusement curved his mouth.
"As you command."
They moved deeper into the forest.
Moonshade Crossing revealed itself gradually , silver birch trees rising like pale sentinels, their bark luminous beneath the fading light. The canopy wove thickly overhead, shielding the clearing from the outside world.
Only those who knew the precise path could find it.
A sanctuary.
Or a trap.
Elara inhaled deeply.
"This," she murmured, "is freedom."
Kael did not answer.
He scanned the tree line, hand resting lightly near the hilt of his blade.
"You do not trust me," she said suddenly.
"I trust no one completely," he replied.
"Not even your king?"
A pause.
"My loyalty is to the crown."
Carefully phrased.
Too carefully.
"And if the crown becomes corrupted?"
His gaze met hers then , sharp, assessing.
"Then it must be protected from itself."
The air shifted between them.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
She studied him differently now.
He was not merely a knight.
Not merely a guard.
There was strategy in him.
Calculation.
And wounds he never spoke of.
"You were not born for obedience," she said quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"And you were not born for cages."
The words slipped from him before he could stop them.
Silence followed.
A charged, fragile silence.
"You speak as though you understand me," she whispered.
"I understand isolation."
They moved Closer to the town or village side.
Moonshade Crossing revealed itself gradually , silver birch trees rising like pale sentinels, their bark luminous beneath the fading light. The canopy wove thickly overhead, shielding the clearing from the outside world.
Only those who knew the precise path could find it.
A sanctuary.
Or a temptation.
Elara stepped forward first, lifting her face toward the filtered light. The air here felt different , unclaimed by court whispers, untouched by politics.
"This," she murmured, "is freedom."
Kael remained silent behind her.
She could feel his presence even without turning , steady, watchful, disciplined.
"You do not trust me," she said after a moment.
"I trust very few people," he replied.
"Not even your king?"
His gaze did not leave the treeline. "My loyalty is to the crown."
Careful.
Too careful.
"And if the crown becomes unjust?" she pressed softly.
Only then did he look at her.
"Then it must be protected from itself."
The words were not spoken lightly.
They lingered between them.
Elara studied him in a way she had not allowed herself to before. He carried something beneath his armor , something sharper than duty.
"You speak as though you have witnessed such things," she said quietly.
A pause.
"I have witnessed what power does to men," he answered.
There was no elaboration.
But there was history.
She turned away from him and walked toward the small stream cutting through the clearing. Moonlight caught in the water's surface, silver against dark.
"You think me foolish," she said.
"I think you brave," he corrected.
She looked over her shoulder, surprised.
"Brave enough to crave freedom in a cage built of gold."
Something tightened in her chest.
"You speak boldly for a man sworn to guard that cage."
"I guard you," he said. "Not the walls."
The air shifted.
Subtle.
Dangerous.
She stepped closer to him this time, closing the distance deliberately.
"You forget yourself, Ser Kael."
"I rarely do."
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But there was heat beneath it now.
The kind that did not belong in forests after dark.
She searched his face.
"You followed me because you suspected I would escape."
"Yes."
"And if I had ordered you to remain behind?"
"I would have disobeyed."
The honesty startled her.
"You admit that so easily?"
"I would rather face your anger than your death."
There it was again.
That quiet, unguarded truth.
For a moment, she saw not the knight. Not the strategist.
But a man who understood loss too intimately.
She softened before she could stop herself.
"You presume too much responsibility."
"And you carry too much alone."
The words were almost gentle.
Almost.
She stepped closer without thinking, until only inches separated them.
"You do not know what I carry."
His jaw tightened.
"No," he agreed. "But I know what isolation feels like."
Something flickered in his eyes , a shadow of something unspoken, something old.
She should have stepped back.
She didn't.
"You are full of contradictions," she whispered.
"So are you."
The forest remained quiet around them, the birch trees standing witness.
No enemy emerged.
No ambush came.
Only silence.
But it was not peaceful.
It was charged.
"You will marry one of them," he said finally, voice measured again.
The words cut sharper than she expected.
"I may," she replied coolly.
"And you will trust him?"
"I will do what is required."
"That is not what I asked."
She hesitated.
"No," she admitted.
The admission felt heavier than it should have.
He exhaled slowly.
"Then choose carefully."
"You speak as though I have a choice."
"You do."
She laughed softly. "You overestimate my power."
"I think," he said, "you underestimate it."
The wind stirred her scarf loose, and instinctively he reached forward to steady it.
His fingers brushed her hair.
A mistake.
A breathless, dangerous mistake.
They both froze.
His hand lingered a fraction too long before withdrawing.
"You should not touch me," she said quietly.
"You are not made of glass."
"That is not what I meant."
Their eyes locked.
And in that moment, the titles fell away.
No princess.
No knight.
Just two people standing too close in a place no one else could see.
"This is reckless," she whispered.
"Yes."
"And yet you followed me."
"Yes."
She searched his face once more.
"You are not what you appear to be, Ser Kael."
A faint shadow crossed his expression.
"Neither are you, Your Highness."
The distance between them returned slowly as he stepped back, restoring formality like armor sliding back into place.