The garden was the only place where the air didn't feel heavy with secrets. Sir Kaelen stood by the stone arch, his hand resting on his sword. He was a knight, and his job was simple: keep the Princess Lyra safe. But tonight, safety felt like a lie.

​Lyra stood by the fountain. The moonlight made her blue dress look like silver. She was supposed to marry a Prince from the North in two days. It was a deal made to stop a war, but to Kaelen, it felt like a crime.

​"Kaelen," she said softly. "Look at me. Not as a guard, but as yourself."

​He turned. His heart hammered against his ribs. "I shouldn't. If the King sees us like this, it’s over."

​"It’s already over," Lyra said. She walked toward him. "I don’t love the Prince. I don’t even know him. I know you. I know how you stay awake when I’m sick. I know how you hate the way the court speaks in riddles."

​Kaelen took a breath. He had spent years training to be a soldier. He had learned to ignore pain and hunger. But he couldn't ignore the way his soul ached when she was near.

​"I am just a man with a blade," he whispered. "I have no lands to give you."

​"I don't want lands," she said. She reached out and touched his hand. Her skin was warm against his cold armor. "I want to be free. I want to go where no one knows my name."

​Kaelen looked at the high castle walls. Beyond them lay the dark forest and the open road. If they left, they could never come back. He would be a traitor, and she would be a runaway. They would be hunted.

​"It will be hard," Kaelen warned. "We will sleep on the ground. We will be cold."

​Lyra smiled, and for the first time in weeks, the sadness left her eyes. "But we will be together."

​Kaelen made his choice. He let go of his sword and took her hand. He didn't feel like a knight anymore, and she didn't look like a princess. They were just two people in the dark, ready to run.

​"Then let's go," he said. "Before the sun comes up."

​They slipped through the gate and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the crown and the armor behind.

*Time Skip*

The forest was a thick, breathing beast, and its darkness was a stark contrast to the familiar, well-lit halls of the castle. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made Lyra jump. Kaelen rode ahead, his body tense, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. They had stolen two sturdy horses from the royal stables, animals bred for endurance, not speed, but they were their only hope.

​The chill of the night seeped into Lyra's borrowed cloak. Her thin silk gown, chosen for a princess, was no match for the biting forest air. She shivered, pulling the coarse wool tighter around her. "Are we safe yet?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rhythmic thud of the horses' hooves.

​Kaelen glanced back. Even in the gloom, he could see the pale fear on her face, the way her eyes darted into the shadows. "Not yet," he said, his voice low and steady. "We ride until the moon sets. Then we rest."

​They rode for what felt like an eternity, deeper and deeper into the unknown. The trees grew taller, their branches intertwining overhead, blocking out the stars. When Kaelen finally pulled on his reins, signaling a stop, Lyra felt a wave of exhaustion so profound it made her sway in the saddle.

​He helped her dismount, his hands firm and gentle. Her legs felt like jelly, and she nearly stumbled. "Where... where will we sleep?"

​Kaelen led her to a small clearing nestled behind a thicket of thorny bushes. It wasn't much, just a patch of dry leaves under the sprawling branches of an ancient oak. He quickly set about gathering fallen branches, his movements quick and practiced.

​"We can't have a fire, can we?" Lyra asked, her teeth chattering.

​"Not tonight," Kaelen confirmed, his voice laced with regret. "Smoke travels too far. And light draws attention." He pulled off his own heavy cloak, the one he'd worn over his armor, and spread it on the ground. "Lie here," he instructed. "It will offer some warmth."

​Lyra hesitated. To lie on the ground, sharing a cloak with her former guard, felt both strange and terribly intimate. But the cold was relentless. She sank down, curling into a ball on the rough fabric.

​Kaelen sat a little distance away, his back against the tree, his sword across his lap. His eyes scanned the darkness, listening for any sound that wasn't the wind or the rustling leaves.

​"Are you cold?" Lyra asked, her voice small.

​"I'm fine," he said, but she could hear the slight tremor in his voice, betraying the chill.

​She thought of the soft feather beds of her castle room, the servants who would bring her warm milk. That life felt impossibly far away, like a dream she’d woken from. She missed it, a little, but mostly, she felt a strange, fierce pride. This was her choice.

​"Kaelen," she said again, her voice softer this time. "Come here. The cloak is big enough for two."

​He didn't move at first. She knew he was fighting it, fighting the urge to break the last remaining rules between them. But the cold was a powerful persuader. Slowly, he shifted, moving closer until he was sitting beside her, his broad back a shield against the wind. He pulled the cloak around both of them.

​Lyra leaned against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body through his tunic. She could smell the faint scent of leather and pine needles, and something else – something uniquely Kaelen. It wasn't the sweet perfume of court, but it was real.

​"Are you still afraid?" he murmured, his voice rumbling softly in his chest.

​"Yes," she confessed. "But less so now." She closed her eyes, letting the quiet of the forest, and the steady presence beside her, finally pull her towards a fitful sleep. They were hunted, they were cold, and they had nothing but each other. And for the first time in her life, Lyra felt truly free.