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The palace courtyard buzzed with murmurs as nobles and knights gathered in a half circle, their gazes flicking with confusion and skepticism. Before them stood a row of orphans, thin and nervous, barely old enough to hold a wooden sword. Among them was a seven-year-old girl with shoulder-length black hair and sharp, steady eyes. Her name was Elira.
Crown Prince Caelum, at only fourteen, stood at the center of the courtyard, his ceremonial cloak brushing the polished stone floor. His eyes scanned the children with the weight of a decision no one believed he should be making. But this was his right—his first royal decree as heir to the throne. The tradition was clear: he would choose one child to enter the elite knight training program, and that child would one day serve as a protector of the royal bloodline.
Everyone expected him to choose one of the stronger boys. Boys bred for battle. Boys who looked like they belonged.
But Caelum's eyes stopped on Elira.
She didn't shift under his gaze. She didn't fidget like the others. Her small hands were clenched into fists at her sides, but her face remained calm. Determined.
He stepped forward.
"I choose her," Caelum said, pointing directly at Elira.
Gasps echoed across the courtyard. One noble dropped his goblet. Another scoffed, barely hiding a sneer. The knight commander, Sir Garet, stepped forward with a frown.
"Your Highness, the girl—she is not fit for—"
"She will be," Caelum interrupted, voice firm. "She will train with the boys. She will fight. And one day, she will stand as my knight."
Elira blinked, stunned.
Sir Garet hesitated. "But... she's just a girl."
Caelum turned to the crowd, his tone sharp. "And what of it? If strength is all that matters, then let her prove hers. If loyalty is what we seek, then give her the chance to earn it. She has fire in her eyes. I believe in it."
Silence followed. But Caelum didn't wait for agreement. He stepped down from the dais and approached Elira. Kneeling slightly so they were eye level, he looked at her, not as a prince—but as a boy making a promise.
"What's your name?"
"Elira," she whispered.
"Elira," he repeated. "Will you train to protect the crown?"
She nodded.
"Then I'll be waiting for you," he said, smiling gently. "Someday, I'll need a knight by my side. And I want it to be you."
Her small hand trembled as she brought it to her chest in a clumsy salute. "I will serve, Your Highness."
From the balcony above, the queen watched silently, her expression unreadable.
That day, the kingdom whispered of the foolish prince and his girl-knight.
But none could see the future—where a boy with a crown and a girl with no title would forge a bond stronger than steel, and far more dangerous.
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