The carriage slowed before we reached the palace gates. We didn't stop completely—just slowed enough to feel the difference. I heard the horses' hooves soften against the stone, and Caelum leaned forward slightly, though he didn't open the window or speak.
Outside, I saw them. Knights. Not like the ones who had come with us from the orphanage. These knights wore red. Deep crimson coats, silver trim. Their armor was polished like mirrors, their swords long and thin like ceremonial blades. Their boots struck the stone in synchronized steps, and none of them moved when the carriage passed. They didn't glance inside. They didn't speak. They stood in rows. Like walls with eyes.
"I think it's a verification post," I whispered, mostly to myself.
Caelum nodded once.
"They're Imperial Knights," he said. "They report directly to the Sun Palace. It's protocol for every guest passing through the westward gate."
I stared at them until they disappeared behind the trailing edge of the window frame. Their silence had weight. We passed through. And then, a few minutes later, the carriage stopped again. For real this time. The wheels creaked gently into stillness, and one of the four knights who had been with us from the orphanage stepped forward and opened the door.
Caelum got out first. He didn't hesitate. Didn't check if I was following. He simply stood tall as his boots touched the wide marble step outside, his cloak fluttering slightly with the breeze. Then he waited. He didn't look back, but I felt him give me space.
I moved to the edge of the seat, my satchel pressed tight against my side. The carriage door was open wide now. I could see the stone beneath us—white with streaks of blue, cut into long, clean slabs that made the courtyard gleam like snow in the sun.
I leaned forward, but the step was too far down. Much farther than I thought it would be. At the orphanage, the stairs had always been chipped and uneven, their height made for small legs. Here… everything was built for grown feet, long coats, proper shoes. I froze. Not out of fear. But out of not knowing how.
I didn't want to fall. Didn't want to look like I didn't belong. Didn't want to trip in front of him. But I stayed too still. The knight who had opened the door stepped forward and, without saying anything, reached his hand out to me again. I looked at it. Still unsure. But I reached anyway.
Our fingers brushed. And I tripped. Just like that. My foot caught on the edge of the step, and I slipped forward—too fast to stop it, too slow to stop thinking about it. I braced for the stone. But it never came. The knight caught me. Not roughly. Not with panic. Just… caught. Like it had happened before.
He steadied me in his arms, cradling my weight like I was made of silk and not bones and embarrassment. I didn't realize how tightly I was gripping his coat until I looked down at my fists. No one laughed. No one pointed. No one muttered clumsy or careless or useless. They were all too quiet for that.
Because they were bowing. Rows of knights. Servants. Gardeners. Stablehands. Every pair of boots that had stood in the courtyard when we arrived were now lowered in deep bows. Heads bent. Hands over hearts. To me. Not to Caelum. Not to a banner. Not to a passing noble. To me.
I stared. I didn't know what to do with it. I forgot I was still in the knight's arms until he shifted slightly and asked in a quiet voice, "Are you all right?"
I blinked. Looked up. His face was softer than I expected. And then I noticed—red hair. A deep auburn, tied back loosely at the nape. And storm-gray eyes, like mine. Not just similar. Not just familiar. But exactly the same. That strange, still, unsettled color like the sky before it chooses to storm or clear.
"I…" I whispered, unsure how to answer. "Yes."
He smiled. Not mockingly. Not with pity. Just a small, real thing.
"Good," he said. "It's a long drop. Most fall once."
He didn't set me down right away. And I didn't try to leave his arms. For a second, it felt… safe. Not because I was high up. Not because I wasn't touching the ground. But because no one told me I was weak for needing help. And no one tried to make me apologize for slipping.
Caelum didn't take me from the knight. He could have. But he didn't. He stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, watching. I thought maybe he'd reach out—tell the knight to pass me over, to put me down so I could walk in on my own. But instead, he just gave a quiet nod.
And the knight began walking. Carrying me. Like I was a prince. Like I had always been one. Like my weight wasn't strange to bear. I didn't fight him. I rested my head against his shoulder, not because I meant to, but because it was warm. And he didn't stiffen. He held me like it was allowed.
The steps of the palace rose before us—wide, clean, lined with blue-veined marble. The doors at the top were open, and light poured from within like it had been waiting for us. For me. The halls inside were high-vaulted and cool.
Blue and silver and white. No gold. No red banners. Just soft light and tall windows and the faintest hum of magic in the air—so gentle you might have thought it was just the wind. I looked up as we passed beneath the archway. The knight's heartbeat was calm. His arms steady. And I thought, maybe, I didn't have to know everything right away. Maybe I could just arrive. Be held. And not fall.