I knew it was a sin. Perhaps worse than a sin—it was a delusion. She was a daughter of high blood, a blossom of the royal line, and I was a mere Gaze-guard, a shadow stationed to protect the very walls that kept us apart.
It was the peak of spring. The royal gardens were an explosion of color, a breathtaking sea of petals that sat in the literal shadow of the castle. The stone spires and the blooming flora complemented each other so perfectly that it was hard to imagine one without the other. Yet, my heart ignored the grand architecture and the rare flowers. My eyes were locked on her.
She was there, moving through the greenery, caressing the petals with a smile so radiant it made the blooms themselves look pale and dull. She wasn't the gardener, though in my most desperate dreams, I wished she were. She was the Princess Raghyahë, the eldest daughter of King Irmisul.
I could describe her beauty a thousand times, and my words would still fall short. I could scream her name until my lungs failed, but it wouldn't change our reality. She was the sun; I was the guard standing by the window, destined only to watch. I was grateful for the luxury of even looking at her, but a hunger lived deep in my chest—a desire to be the one beside her, sharing the scent of the flowers. But I buried that hunger. I had to.
The world usually stopped when I watched her. Time became a stagnant pool. It would have stayed that way had a heavy hand not slammed into my shoulder.
"Mr. Pretty Bastard? Care to explain yourself?"
The voice broke my trance. I felt a flash of fury at being interrupted, but it vanished instantly, replaced by a cold wave of humility. I reminded myself who I was. The anger had no place here.
"Zebec," I muttered, striking the tone of forced humor we always used.
"Why don't you just bet it all?" Zebec asked, his face split by a careless grin. "We're the lowest of the low, Rabeeñ. We have nothing to lose."
That was Zebec—straightforward, reckless, and the only friend I had in this cold stone labyrinth.
"Zip it! Others will hear you," I hissed, but he was already moving, his finger pointing toward the garden.
"Others? Like the young maiden down there?"
"Don't point at her!" I panicked, my voice dropping to a frantic whisper. I snatched his hand down, glancing around to see if any other guards had noticed.
Zebec let out a long, dramatic sigh. "I wish I had someone like that to pine over. I'm exhausted, man."
"You look it," I noted, watching the weariness settle into his features. "What's the trouble?"
"Oh, it's nothing. It's just—" He froze. His eyes went wide. "The royal party... it's today!"
He didn't whisper. He screamed it. The sound echoed down the vaulted stone hallway, sharp and loud. Instinctively, my eyes flew back to the window.
She had heard him.
Our eyes met. In that heartbeat, the dimension shifted. The world fell away, leaving only her gaze and mine. I had dreamed of this moment—the collision of our eyes—but the reality was terrifying. I felt a surge of raw, unadulterated nervousness.
I broke the contact first. Guilt stabbed at me; I felt like a thief caught with my hands in the treasury. I had stared shamelessly, and the thought of her being uncomfortable because of a man like me was unbearable. I had to act natural, to pretend it was an accident.
I slammed my hands onto Zebec's shoulders with a frantic, awkward grin. "Let's... let's go, pretty bas— I mean, dear friend!"
I dragged him away before he could protest. I didn't dare look back. My heart was thundering against my ribs, and my only priority was escaping the weight of her memory. We passed window after window, the sunlight stroking my armor, but I kept my head down. I was successful until we reached the final archway.
Then, I heard it. A man's voice.
It was deep, melodic, and carried the effortless authority of a man born to command. He called her name with a familiarity that felt like a dagger in my gut.
"Raghyahë."
I couldn't help it. I looked.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" the man said.
Through the final window, I saw my fantasy being lived out by someone else. He was tall, handsome, and draped in the fine silks of nobility. He was everything I could never be. My feet kept moving, but my mind stayed in that garden, spiraling through a dozen bitter scenarios.
"Stop! Rabeeñ! Where are you taking me?" Zebec shouted, finally wrenching himself free.
I blinked, realizing I had dragged him halfway across the wing. "Oh. Sorry, Zebec." I let out a heavy sigh, a sound of total defeat.
Zebec rubbed his shoulder, his exaggeration clearly meant to cheer me up. "What was that? I swear I heard my bones crack. Since when did you get so strong?"
I forced a small chuckle. "It's nothing. I just... I made eye contact. It overwhelmed me."
Zebec's face changed. The humor died, replaced by a look of profound disappointment. "Eye contact? Rabeeñ, my friend, how are you ever going to confess if a look sends you running?"
"Confess?" I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"
"If you love someone, you tell them. Simple."
I shook my head. He was so beautifully oblivious to the walls between us. "No, Zebec. This feeling stays buried. We are the lowest guards. My only responsibility is to die for this castle and the people in it. Love isn't enough to cross that gap. It's my fate. I have to accept it."
I hadn't meant to say so much. The words poured out from a dark, cramped place in my soul.
Zebec looked at me as if seeing a stranger. "Is this love-sickness? Where is my real friend? This man sounds far too passionate." He grinned then, trying to lighten the mood again. "Anyway, the party! We were talking about the party!"
Suddenly, his eyes went wide again. He didn't say another word; he just turned and bolted toward the main hall, his expression turning grave. It was rare to see Zebec run from a conversation. Whatever was waiting in that hall, it was urgent.
***
A few days later, the warmth of spring began to fade into the heavy heat of summer.
I was stationed on the upper floor, my gaze fixed on the garden below. It was beautiful, the flowers reaching their peak, but without her, the view felt hollow. Gloomy. I could smell the perfume of the blossoms drifting up on the breeze, but it only reminded me of her absence.
I shifted my weight. Today was different. I wasn't in my light patrol gear; I wore heavy, polished armor and held a spear as tall as I was. As a Gaze-guard, I wasn't told the castle secrets, but even I knew something big was happening.
Zebec's post was a few paces down the hall, but it was empty. I knew what that meant—he was off gathering gossip. Aside from being a guard, Zebec was a personal servant to Queen Lilizabet. He had been chosen for his handsome face; the Queen didn't like anything "unpleasant" in her sight. I was actually thankful for my plain, average face—it kept me out of the Queen's orbit.
"Rabeeñ! Let's go!"
Zebec appeared, skidding to a halt in front of me, gasping for air.
"Go where?"
"The main hall!" he wheezed, clutching his knees. "There's a massive feast. I just saw her... I saw your Moon Maiden!"
My heart skipped. "Moon Maiden?"
"Raghyahë! That's her name, right?"
"Don't!" I hissed, covering his mouth. "If someone hears us using her name like that, we're finished."
He pulled my hand away, looking annoyed. "Forget the rules! We can't miss this. Other guards are sneaking in by pretending to be on patrol. We can do the same. Don't you want to see her?"
I pretended to think about it. I tried to be the stoic guard. But my heart had already made the choice. I wanted to see her. Ever since that eye contact, the hunger had only grown.
"Fine," I whispered. "Let's go."
A few moments later, we stood at the massive entrance to the Grand Hall. The scale of it was staggering. I tried to peer through the crowd to find her, but the sea of silk and gold was too dense.
"In we go," Zebec said, dragging me across the threshold.
The moment I stepped inside, my fear evaporated. It was like walking into another world. The air smelled of expensive wine and roasted meats. The ceiling was a masterpiece of gold leaf, reflecting the light of a thousand candles. The paintings on the walls likely cost more than I would earn in three lifetimes. This was a world of birthright, a fantasy made manifest in stone and silver.
"Rabeeñ! There!"
Zebec pointed. My gaze followed his finger, and the world slowed down once more.
She was there.
There were women in the room wearing gowns of impossible complexity, dripping with jewels and lace. But none of them compared to her. She wore a dress of soft, simple blue—a color that pulled the eye like a magnet. It was sleeveless, revealing just a hint of her pale, smooth skin. There were no exaggerated curves, no desperate attempts to grab attention. Its beauty was in its simplicity.
I stood frozen. I was a statue among the living, staring shamelessly until a passerby jostled my shoulder.
I blinked, shaking my head to clear the fog. Zebec was already a few feet away, happily stuffing his face with delicacies from a nearby table. I moved toward him, stealing one last glance at her.
"You... want... some?" Zebec asked, his mouth full of food.
He gestured to the spread. For him, the party was about the stomach. For me, it was about the soul. We were both captives of our own desires...