The moonlight bathed the palace gardens in silver, softening the jagged edges of the world. The air was cool, scented with roses that climbed over the marble archways. Yet Aelion felt none of the serenity. His heart was pounding, his hands restless at his sides.
He was waiting for Kealen.
The words of his father—the king—still echoed in his mind: "A prince must never confuse loyalty with affection. You are the crown. You are the throne. Never let your heart weaken your duty."
But it was too late. His heart had already chosen, and it had chosen Kealen.
The sound of footsteps reached him. Steady, disciplined, yet softer than the heavy boots of soldiers. Kealen emerged from the shadows, his figure tall and sure, his armor gleaming faintly under the moon.
"Your Highness," Kealen said formally, bowing his head.
Aelion's throat tightened. That title—"Your Highness"—felt like a wall between them, a reminder that this love was forbidden, dangerous, perhaps even ruinous. And yet, he couldn't let go.
"Kealen," Aelion whispered, almost pleading. "Don't call me that. Not when it's just us."
Kealen's eyes flickered, softening, though his expression remained guarded. "Then what should I call you?"
"Aelion," he said, taking a step closer. "Just Aelion."
The bodyguard hesitated. His hand shifted to the hilt of his sword as though seeking something solid to anchor himself. "If I forget my place, I fail you. I cannot—"
"You fail me only when you pretend you don't feel it too."
The words fell like a blade, sharp and undeniable. Aelion could see Kealen's chest rise and fall, faster now, as though the truth he had guarded so carefully was cracking open.
Kealen looked away, his jaw tightening. "You don't understand the risk. If anyone discovers this—"
"I understand perfectly," Aelion interrupted, his voice shaking. "I know what I'm risking. But tell me honestly, Kealen. Do you feel nothing when you look at me? When you protect me? When I almost lose myself in your eyes?"
The silence that followed was heavy, stretching like a bowstring pulled to breaking point.
Finally, Kealen exhaled, his voice rough. "Every time I look at you, I fight myself. I fight the urge to hold you, to touch you, to forget every vow I've made. You are my prince. My duty. But you are also—" His words broke, raw and unguarded. "—the only person who makes me wish I wasn't just a soldier."
Aelion's breath caught. His eyes burned with unshed tears, relief and longing crashing together inside him.
He reached forward, his hand trembling as it brushed Kealen's gauntlet. "Then stop fighting. Just for tonight. Be mine, not my guard."
Kealen froze. His body trembled under the weight of restraint, every muscle locked in a silent battle. And then—slowly, almost as if he were surrendering to gravity—he removed his glove, letting it fall to the marble floor. His bare hand closed over Aelion's, warm and firm.
The touch sent a shiver through Aelion's body. He stepped closer, so close he could feel Kealen's breath against his cheek.
"Aelion," Kealen whispered, his voice husky with restrained desire. "If I do this… there is no going back."
"I don't want to go back."
The prince rose onto his toes, closing the last inch of space between them. His lips brushed against Kealen's, tentative at first, trembling with the fear of rejection. For a heartbeat, Kealen remained still—frozen between duty and desire.
Then the dam broke.
Kealen's hand cupped the back of Aelion's neck, pulling him in, and their mouths crashed together in a kiss that burned with all the passion they had buried for so long. It was not gentle. It was desperate, hungry, an unraveling of every wall they had built.
Aelion gasped against Kealen's lips, his hands clutching at the fabric of his guard's tunic as if afraid he would vanish. Kealen deepened the kiss, tilting his head, his tongue brushing against Aelion's in a way that sent sparks racing down his spine.
The world dissolved—the roses, the marble, the warnings of kings and kingdoms. There was only the taste of Kealen, the warmth of his body, the undeniable truth that this was where Aelion belonged.
When they finally broke apart, breathing hard, their foreheads rested together.
Kealen's voice was hoarse. "Gods, Aelion… what have we done?"
Aelion smiled through the tears in his eyes. "We've stopped lying to ourselves."
But in the distance, beyond the hedges, a faint rustle stirred. Neither of them noticed the shadow lingering just beyond the light. Watching. Waiting.
Their secret was no longer theirs alone.