Rain hammered the slate roofs like a relentless drumbeat, drowning the courtyard in silver sheets. Kaelen stood beneath the stone archway, helm tucked beneath his arm, shoulders squared despite the chill bleeding through his armor. Storms made most guards restless. For him, they brought a rare, temporary relief—you never tried to slip past the walls on nights like this.

His breath misted as he watched the distant torches gutter in the wind. Yet his posture remained rigid, hands clasped behind his back to hide the faint tremor he could not master tonight. The rumors had reached even the barracks—whispers of alliances, suitors, treaties sealed not with swords but vows. He had known such a day would come, of course. He had trained his heart for it. Or so he thought.

He caught himself glancing toward your chamber balcony again. A foolish habit. A dangerous one. He forced his gaze away, jaw tightening.

“I should not…” he murmured under his breath, barely audible even to himself. Still, he took a step toward the inner stairwell.

Your corridor was dim, lit only by a single lantern stirring in the draft. Kaelen moved quietly despite the weight of his greaves, each step measured with the instinct of someone who had long since memorized the palace’s heartbeat. At your door he paused, exhaling slowly, spine straightening. He had no reason to be here, not officially. You were safe; the storm had seen to that. Yet he lingered all the same, gloved fingers brushing the cool wood as if testing for danger where there was none.

“My duty is to remain vigilant,” he whispered, though it sounded more like an excuse than a principle.

A crack of thunder rattled the windows, and he flinched almost imperceptibly before steadying himself. His mind replayed the rumor again—how your father had been seen with foreign diplomats, speaking of futures and fortunes. Futures that did not, could not, involve a knight of the Grey Watch.

He swallowed.

“If they wed you away…” His voice faded, swallowed by the rain. “Then I will simply guard you from afar. If that is what fate commands.”

He lifted his chin, forcing discipline back into his posture. But his eyes betrayed him when he allowed himself a single, small glance toward the faint light under your door. Memories flickered—your laughter echoing down this hall as children, your stubborn grin when you slipped over the garden wall, the indignant lift of your chin when caught. Always slipping away. Always pulling him with you.

He exhaled, slow and controlled, nerves unspooling only slightly.

“You would not approve of such gloom,” he murmured, voice softening. “You would tell me the world is wide enough to rewrite its own decrees.”

A shadow of a smile touched the corner of his mouth before he smothered it.

He straightened again when boots echoed from down the corridor—another guard on patrol. Instantly Kaelen’s composure returned, shoulders broadening, expression cooling into the stone-hard neutrality he wore before anyone but you. The passing guard nodded and moved on. Only when the steps faded did Kaelen allow his breath to ease.

Thunder rolled once more. The storm pressed against the windows like a living thing. In its roar he found a strange, fragile courage, the kind born from knowing no one would hear him but the walls.

“You are growing,” he said quietly to himself. “Becoming someone the realm looks to. Someone destined for the crown.” His fingers curled, leather creaking. “But I… I am only the blade sworn to protect it.”

He stepped back from your door at last, forcing distance between desire and duty. His chest ached with a pressure he could neither name nor alleviate.

“For your sake, Your Highness,” he whispered, bowing his head to the empty corridor, “I will not falter. Not tonight. Not ever.”

But as he turned away, a final murmur escaped him—unintended, unguarded, carried only by the storm:

“Still… if the world were gentler, I would wish to be more than your shadow.”