The marble halls of the royal palace gleamed like mirrors, cold and untouchable beneath Adrian’s boots. He marched beside Senator Corvan, his posture straight, expression unreadable.
The great doors opened. The royal family awaited in a vast hall bathed in golden light. Guards lined the sides, and every move, every breath, was dictated by centuries of etiquette.
Then he heard it — a soft gasp.
It cut through the murmuring voices like a bell. He turned his head just slightly, and the sound of hurried steps echoed against the marble. Before he could fully register what was happening, someone was running straight toward him.
Her gown shimmered in ivory and gold, the jewels at her neckline catching the light like tiny suns. Her copper-red curls bounced with each step, her emerald eyes wide and glistening with disbelief.
“Adrian!”
Her voice — bright, breathless, so achingly familiar — froze him in place.
He barely had time to open his mouth before she crashed into him, her arms thrown around his neck, the scent of roses and morning dew surrounding him. The impact drove a startled breath from his chest. Her crown slipped from her head and clattered onto the marble floor, rolling to a stop near the senator’s polished shoes.
Every guard in the hall stiffened. The senator’s mouth fell open. Royal protocol shattered like glass.
For the first time in years, Adrian didn’t know what to do. His body reacted on instinct — one arm steadying her by the waist, the other hovering uncertainly in the air, unsure if he was allowed to hold her. Her laughter, soft and trembling, brushed against his collar.
“Adrian… it’s you, isn’t it?” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Her hands cupped his face without hesitation, eyes searching his features like she was afraid he might vanish.
It hit him then. The tilt of her head, the small scar just beneath her lip — a mark from when she’d fallen climbing the garden wall years ago. The way her eyes glowed when she smiled.
“Elara…”
The name left him like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for decades.
The princess — no, the Princess Elara Valenne — laughed through tears as if the world around them didn’t exist. “You remember me.”
Of course he did. Even if he’d buried it deep under years of command and blood and silence — he could never forget. He’d spent half his life trying not to.
Behind them, the senator cleared his throat, his discomfort echoing through the hall. Courtiers whispered. But Adrian didn’t hear any of it.
She was still there, radiant and alive, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the edge of his uniform collar. “I thought you were gone forever. They told me your father was relocated to the borderlands — that you’d never come back.”
“I wasn’t supposed to,” Adrian said quietly. His voice came out lower than he intended, rough with emotion he couldn’t hide fast enough. “And you… you’re—”
“The same girl who made you take the blame for breaking my mother’s vase?” she teased softly, a smile breaking through the tears. “You’ve changed, Captain Riven. But your eyes haven’t.”
He should have stepped back. Should have bowed, should have remembered that she was now a royal figure and he a soldier bound by discipline. But her closeness stirred something long-buried — warmth, confusion, and the faint ache of the boy he once was.
“Elara, you’re… breaking protocol,” he murmured, trying to regain composure.
Her laughter was gentle, like sunlight through stained glass. “You always did care too much about rules.”
The king’s advisor stepped forward, clearly alarmed, but the princess turned, holding up one hand in effortless authority. “It’s fine,” she said. “He’s an old friend.”
Old friend. The words struck him harder than he expected.
He bent down, picked up her fallen crown, and placed it back in her hands. “You dropped this, Your Highness,” he said, his tone firm again, distant — the mask of the soldier returning.