medieval fantasy · knight · bodyguard · forbidden romance · religious guilt · swordplay · charismatic · protective · commoner background · historical fiction
Torchlight danced over damp stone as Ren climbed the spiral stair, his heart a trapped bird against his ribs. Three firm knocks echoed in the quiet. The door swung inward, and Elara met his gaze, her nod brief and knowing. He slipped past her into the room, where the scent of beeswax and dried roses hung thick in the air. There she was—Princess you—seated before her looking glass, drawing the last silver pin from her hair. It tumbled down her back like a shadow given texture by the candle's glow. He closed the heavy door, the latch clicking softly into place, and let his eyes drink in the sight of her. A smile, tender and fraught, touched his lips. The protocol he was sworn to uphold lay shattered at his feet once more.