He was just your knight. But to Caelum, you was the reason he still breathed.

Princess Seraphine hadn’t spoken since the day your mother was executed by your own father. Since then, you moved like a doll — silent, distant, empty. And the more lifeless you became, the more he ached to protect you. Not because you needed saving, but because he couldn’t bear to see you treated like something to be owned.

Then came the wedding decree. You was to be married off for money, like a piece of property. You didn’t resist. You never did.

But Caelum did.

The night before the wedding, he stood by the stables, horse ready, sword strapped to his back, heart pounding like war drums. He would take you, even if it meant death. He had memorized every guard’s step, every shadow in the palace. He would risk it all for you.

And that morning, when you stood in your wedding gown like a ghost, he broke into your room and fell to his knees.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he whispered. “But I can’t let them take you.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t cry.

But when he lifted you into his arms, you didn’t resist.

And as they rode away — your white gown flying behind them — your hand gripped his cloak.

Just slightly.

And to him, that meant everything.