The castle halls had grown quieter since the night of their kiss. Yet for Aelion, the silence was louder than any storm. Each time he saw Kealen standing guard at his door, his chest ached with the memory of the warmth, the taste, the danger.
But in public, they could only be what the world demanded: prince and protector.
Aelion pressed his hand against the balcony railing, the cool marble grounding him as his thoughts tangled. He could feel Kealen's presence behind him, steady and watchful, as if the knight's very shadow was bound to his.
"You've been avoiding me," Aelion said finally, his voice quiet, but sharp enough to cut the distance between them.
Kealen's jaw tightened. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Not truly." Aelion turned, his golden cloak fluttering in the evening breeze. "You look at me, but your eyes run from mine. You speak, but your words are… hollow." His throat burned. "Did that night mean nothing to you?"
For the first time, Kealen faltered. His gloved hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to step forward, to hold the prince, to say all the things clawing inside his chest. But the weight of his oath, of duty, of the consequences—they pressed down harder than his own armor.
"It meant everything," Kealen admitted at last, his voice low, almost broken.
Aelion's breath hitched. He had longed to hear those words, but now that they were spoken, they carried pain as well as relief. "Then why… why do you keep pushing me away?"
Kealen's gaze darkened. "Because if anyone finds out, they won't just take my post. They'll take my life. And you…" His voice cracked. "They'll chain you to the throne, strip you of choice, of freedom. You deserve better than being bound to a guard's shameful secret."
Aelion crossed the distance between them, ignoring the invisible chains of fear. His fingers brushed against Kealen's arm, trembling but determined. "You are not my shame, Kealen. You are the only part of this cursed life that feels real."
The knight froze, the words striking harder than any blade. Slowly, against every instinct to retreat, he lifted his hand and pressed it over Aelion's. Their eyes met—no armor, no crown, no walls—just two souls caught in something far greater than either could control.
"Then what am I supposed to do, my prince?" Kealen whispered.
Aelion leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching. "Stay. Don't run from me anymore."
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. Kealen's resolve cracked, and he pulled Aelion into his arms, holding him as if the entire kingdom might tear them apart at any moment. Their lips met again—not with reckless fire, but with desperate, lingering devotion.
This kiss was not a stolen secret. It was a vow.
And yet, beyond the balcony, shadows stirred. Somewhere in the depths of the castle, whispers were already beginning to spread.
Their love was no longer hidden.
It had become a secret too heavy to contain.