It only took two days, six hours, and a ridiculous amount of tedious embroidery classes before I finally snapped.
I needed to see Elias train.
Whispers swirled through the palace like cotton candy. "Elias is in training." "Elias was given the sword today." "The master-at-arms is furious because he refuses to stop!"
I couldn't stand it any longer.
Naturally, I devised a plan.
Step 1: Act completely absorbed in a Very Important Book on Courtly Manners.
Step 2: Yawn dramatically enough that Miss Beatrice would think I might pass out.
Step 3: Slip away when she had her back turned, fussing with her hair.
(Actually, it was almost rude how simple it was.)
With Whiskers huffed indignantly on my shoulder, I darted down the servant-and-plot corridor of the palace—the one no one ventured through during the day. It smelled of aged stone and dust that no one ever bothered to clean. Perfect for sneaking around undetected.
I found a small balcony overlooking the training courtyard, its iron grille half-obscured by ivy. I squatted behind it, trying to remain concealed, and peered down.
There he was.
Elias stood below, wooden sparring sword in hand, battling the old master-at-arms. Sunlight caught his hair, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but there was something fierce in his movements.
Not smooth. Not flawless. But determined.
Every time he fell, he recovered. Every wild swing became a more controlled strike. Each blow he took (and there were plenty) he took in silence.
I found myself holding my breath.
He wasn't doing it for glory. Not for attention. He was doing it because he had sworn to me—me—that he'd keep me safe.
He swung again, harder this time. The master-at-arms grunted in reluctant approval.
"Good. Again!"
Elias gritted his teeth and raised the sword. Again. Again. Again.
I laid my hand over my heart, feeling it pound against my ribs. Not out of fear. Not excitement. But something deeper. Something that told me this boy would not break.
"You'll be my knight," I whispered softly, so quietly even Whiskers didn't flinch an ear.
I knew it.
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next year. But one day, Elias would stand in front of me, sword in hand, ready to fight the world itself if it dared to threaten me.
I lingered until the sun began to set behind the towers, casting everything in golden and red hues. Only when Elias finally collapsed from exhaustion did I slip away, my heart both lighter and heavier all at once.
Back in my bedchamber, I collapsed onto the silken sheets, laughing softly to myself.
Miss Beatrice poked her head through the door. "Princess, are you ill?"
"No," I replied wistfully, gazing up at the ceiling, where the first stars were starting to appear. "I'm feeling... triumphant."
For after all, I had a future knight.
And he was already battling for me.
Even if he didn't realize it yet.