" First of all," Eley straightened up, and I realized I was about to get a lecture, "yes, I'm interested in the life of a knight. I'm stuck in a castle all the time, knowing nothing about the people. I live in a gilded cage, viewing the world through the bars of court etiquette. Secondly, you're not an ordinary knight. You have a special unit, and thirdly..."
" You don't have to continue," I interrupted, feeling my cheeks begin to burn. "I understand everything."
" It's impolite to interrupt a girl," a icy note entered Eley's voice, sending shivers down her spine. "I'll finish, and you can continue. Thirdly, we played together as children. I'm interested in the life of the boy who played with me back when I could still be just a girl, not a princess."
There was such melancholy in those last words that I felt like a complete idiot. Of course she remembers our childhood games. Of course she wants to know what happened to that boy who wasn't afraid to tug her pigtails and argue about who could run to the old oak tree first.
" Thank you... I mean... I'm sorry," I muttered, stumbling over my words. "I shouldn't have interrupted."
At that moment, looking at her—the princess in the golden cage, the girl from childhood memories, a riddle in human form—I realized that childhood was over forever. And instead of sadness, I felt a strange relief: I could finally stop pretending I didn't know what I wanted to be.
I wanted to become someone worthy of standing next to her, not as a boy playing knight, but as a man who had found his place in this difficult world.
" You didn't have to apologize," Eley laughed, and that laughter brought the ghost of our childhood back into the garden. "You've become so well-mannered. I liked you better with the old you."
The dilemma in all its glory: remain a polite knight who knows his place, or return to the boy who wasn't afraid to be himself around the princess? The choice between what's right and what's real.
" Let's talk about the kingdom first," I started with the safest thing. "The common people live well. There's food, trade is thriving. Lots of children—that means prosperity. And lots of... monuments to the king."
" That's it!" Eley waved her hand so sharply that the bird flew off the bush. "Enough about the monuments! What about the other questions?"
I chuckled. This was the real Eley—the one who couldn't stand pathos, even when it came to her father.