Queen Elara first comforted the villagers.
Standing among their frightened faces, she spoke in a calm yet firm voice, telling them that they were safe now.
Her presence, her confidence—slowly erased the fear and sense of insecurity from the hearts of the people.
After that, the convoy returned to the palace.
Night was growing deeper.
The injured bodyguards were immediately sent to the royal infirmary. Healers and attendants began their work, but Queen Elara's attention was elsewhere.
She was staring at Riyan.
There were questions in her eyes—
and suspicion as well.
"You,"
she said in an authoritative voice,
"come with me."
It was an order, not a request.
Riyan said nothing.
No questions. No resistance.
He silently followed behind her.
Inside the palace, through long corridors, the Queen led him into a separate chamber.
The room was quiet, cold, and mysterious.
Elara stepped forward and lit a torch.
Its yellow light flickered across the walls.
She turned to look at Riyan—
this time, her gaze was hard.
"Tell me the truth,"
she said,
"who are you?"
Silence filled the room.
Riyan stood still.
His face was expressionless, his eyes unwavering.
"I am only what you saw today,"
he replied calmly.
Elara's eyebrows tightened.
"No ordinary bodyguard can fight like that,"
she said.
"Not that speed, not that precision… and not that courage."
Riyan remained silent.
A few moments passed.
Then—the Queen's voice changed.
"But,"
she said softly,
"whatever you are… today you saved my life.
And the lives of my people as well."
It was the first time there was praise in her voice.
She took a deep breath and delivered her decision—
"From today, you will be on duty in the palace twenty-four hours a day."
"You are my special bodyguard."
A faint light appeared in Riyan's eyes.
He bowed.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
But he did not know— This new position in the palace was not just an honor, but the beginning of his past resurfacing,
his emotions awakening, and the storms yet to come.
Elara paused as she reached the doorway and said—
"This is your room from now on. Rest for now.
I will call you myself… then you will work."
With that, she left.
But even as she walked away—
her flowing red hair, shining in the light of the torches, continued to shake Riyan's heart.
The door closed.
The room was silent.
And Riyan—
suddenly laughed.
He jumped in happiness, as if someone had filled his empty inner world with colors.
There was no fear in his mind.
No logic.
No sense of distance.
He could not see the difference in age.
He could not see that she was a mature queen standing at the peak of her life—
and he was a young man at the beginning of his own,
with a past buried under ashes.
He could not see that she was a queen…
and he was just a bodyguard.
In that moment—
there was only one thing he could see.
Elara.
"Is this love…?"
he asked himself.
And that thought—
even began to shake his purpose.
He lay down on the bed, but sleep did not come. His eyes were closed, but his mind was awake.
Elara's voice.
Her eyes.
The warmth of her breath— Everything echoed inside him again and again.
And then—
Midnight.
A soft fluttering sound. Riyan's eyes opened.
Near the window— A small bird was sitting.
A folded piece of paper was held in its beak.
Riyan took it.
There were only two lines written— "Come quickly.
To my chamber."
There was no signature.
There was no need for one.
Riyan's heart began to pound loudly.
His lips trembled. His eyes shone.
"She… has called me…"
He jumped up in joy.
For a moment, he did not think at all.
He almost ran— But then he stopped. He looked outside.
The night was deep.
The palace was asleep.
The corridors were silent.
"Is this… right?"
a weak voice rose from a corner of his mind.
But the very next moment—
that voice was silenced by something else.
Love.
It does not listen to logic.
It does not understand warnings.
It only moves forward.
And Riyan—
in that moment, was completely blind.
He quietly stepped out of the room.
Fast footsteps.
A racing heart.
Fire in his breath.
With every step— His reason was left further behind.
He did not know that call he believed to be love could also be a test.
Or perhaps— The first step toward his downfall.
And the palace walls— Silently watched him walk away.
Because some meetings do not bring peace— They arrive as storms.