The royal library of Nakarith was not nestled within the palace walls. It stood at the heart of the capital—an ancient tower of stone and gold leaf, older than the throne itself. Its arched windows overlooked the bustling markets, and its doors were open to scholars, scribes, and the few nobles willing to trade comfort for knowledge.
Princess Liora rarely ventured into the city unescorted. But today, she had dismissed her guards and handmaidens at the outer gate. She wore a plain cloak, the hood drawn over her braided hair, and carried only a single scroll—an excuse to be among the scholars without question.
She had come not for research.
She had come for Kaelen of Nakarith.
Rumors swirled through the court that he spent his afternoons in the library—reading, studying, speaking to no one. He had refused the king's invitations, ignored her own carefully worded summons, and left every banquet before his name could be formally announced.
Such aloofness might have angered Liora. But instead, it intrigued her.
She entered the library's vaulted hall and found him exactly where the whispers said he would be—seated near the center alcove, a thick tome opened before him. He read slowly, one hand tracing the lines, the other holding the edge of the page as if it were sacred.
Liora took a seat across from him, choosing a table deliberately close. She pretended to study a treaty, but her eyes were on him. She waited—for a greeting, a glance, a passing word. None came.
Kaelen never looked up.
The hour passed, and still he read. Once, his eyes shifted in her direction, but with the same cool disinterest one might give to a window or a shadow. And when he finally closed the book, it was not with urgency but calm.
Then, and only then, Liora stood.
"You insult my father," she said, breaking the silence.
Kaelen paused mid-motion, returning the book to its place.
"You insult me," she added, her voice steady but tinged with heat. "The king summoned you twice. I summoned you once. You refused us both. Why?"
Kaelen met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "I trade in stones, not invitations."
Liora took a step forward. "You're no ordinary trader. You're being discussed in every chamber of this palace. The nobles speak your name with awe. My mother asked after you. And yet, you walk these streets as if you owe no one a bow."
"I bow to no one," Kaelen replied softly, "except truth."
"You insult my crown," she snapped.
"I meant no insult," he said. "Only distance."
With that, he offered a shallow nod and turned.
But Liora wouldn't stop. She followed him out of the library, ignoring the gasps of startled scribes. "You think yourself above us?" she asked. "Or too good to enter the palace gates?"
Kaelen said nothing.
"You can't ignore royalty forever."
Still no answer.
They emerged into the cobbled courtyard. The afternoon sun lit his dark hair with a copper sheen. Liora stood behind him, breath quick, heart pounding with something she couldn't define.
Then he whistled—low and sharp.
From the alley beyond the gate, a white horse emerged. Tall, majestic, eyes like silver coins, its hooves made no sound as it crossed the stones. Without effort, Kaelen mounted the beast, looking down at her with that same quiet distance.
"Goodbye, Princess," he said.
And he rode away.
Liora stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted, her heart pounding harder than it ever had during sword lessons or royal declarations. She could still smell the parchment and stone dust from the library, but all she could see was that horse disappearing into the crowd.
That evening, back at the palace, the Queen noticed it immediately.
Liora sat at the window of her chamber, unmoving, the candle at her table long burned down. She did not look up when her mother entered.
"You're pale," the Queen said gently, sitting beside her. "You've always hidden your thoughts well… but this is not one of those times."
Liora said nothing.
The Queen reached for her daughter's hand. "Is it Kaelen of Nakarith?"
At last, Liora met her eyes. But she did not speak.
A mother's instinct needed no words.
"You are in love," the Queen whispered. "But something about it is… not going your way."
Liora's eyes glistened, but she did not nod. Nor did she deny it.
The Queen smiled sadly. "You are your father's daughter. We are not used to silence from those we favor. But sometimes, silence speaks more clearly than flattery. When you are ready to speak, I'll be here."
Before the moment could stretch further, the doors to Liora's chamber opened wide.
King Arken strode in, his robes trailing silk and frustration. "Why," he demanded, "has no one succeeded in bringing Kaelen to the palace?"
The Queen and Princess both turned toward him—but said nothing.
The king scowled. "Is he avoiding us? Or are we simply not worth his time?"
Liora turned back to the window, heart racing again. But this time, it wasn't anger that surged through her veins.
It was want.
And wonder.