A Knight's Doomed Affections by Kay JacksonThe cathedral was a sea of velvet, gold, and faces I did not care to know. Archbishop Vane’s voice droned through the vaulted ceilings, speaking of duty, bloodlines, and alliance, but the words blurred into empty noise.
I stood exactly where my station demanded—five paces back, hand resting on the pommel of my ceremonial sword, a motionless statue in silver armor. My duty was to protect the crown. My tragedy was that I loved the woman wearing it.
Princess Serena stood at the altar, her heavy bridal train pooling around her like white frost. Beside her stood Prince Cassian, a man who possessed the one thing I never could: the correct birthright.
As the archbishop spoke of eternal vows, Serena shifted slightly. A single tear escaped, cutting a glittering path through the powder on her cheek. She did not look at her groom. For a fraction of a second, her eyes flickered toward the shadows of the pillar where I stood.
In that brief look, a lifetime of secrets flashed between us.
I remembered the midnight warmth of the royal gardens, far away from the stifling court. I remembered the subtle, fleeting touches in crowded corridors—the brush of a hand against mine as I opened a carriage door, a lingering glance in a polished shield, a stolen breath in the library where the shadows hid our doomed affection. We had built a kingdom out of whispers and stolen moments, fully aware that the foundation was made of glass.
“If anyone here knows any reason why these two should not be wed…” the archbishop proclaimed, his voice echoing off the cold stone.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The weight of my sword felt heavy enough to drag me into the floorboards. I could step forward. I could draw my blade, shatter the stained-glass illusion of peace, and call her name. But a knight’s love is a quiet execution. To speak would be to ruin her, to plunge the kingdom into war, and to brand her a traitor for the crime of loving a lowborn soldier.
Cassian slipped the gold band onto her finger.
Serena’s eyes closed, and I watched the final spark of the girl I loved vanish beneath the crushing weight of the crown. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting another tear fall—a silent goodbye meant only for the knight standing in the shadows.
When the heavy oak doors finally threw open to announce the new King and Queen, the crowd erupted into cheers. I stepped into the procession, marching a calculated distance behind them. My armor clinked with every step, a hollow rhythm marking the march toward my own exile. I had kept her safe from every threat in Palven, but I could not save her from her own throne.
As the carriage pulled away into the autumn rain, taking the queen and my heart with it, I unclasped the silver crest from my cloak and let it fall into the mud…
