Chapter 2 Duty Before Desire #3
Caelan inspected guard positions personally rather than relying solely on reports.
He questioned servants assigned to the royal dining hall.
He examined delivery wagons entering the palace grounds.
He ordered additional inspections of decorative festival displays after discovering several large lantern frames could easily conceal weapons.
Some guards quietly joked that Captain Draven trusted no one.
They weren't entirely wrong.
Trust was earned.
Suspicion kept people alive until it was.
Near midday, Rowan emerged from the eastern palace wing accompanied by two advisors discussing trade agreements.
Caelan immediately fell into position several steps behind him.
Not close enough to intrude.
Close enough to intercept danger.
The prince acknowledged him with a polite nod before continuing his conversation.
"...the northern villages will benefit if tariffs are reduced before winter," Rowan was saying.
One advisor frowned.
"The treasury would lose revenue."
"Temporarily."
Rowan stopped walking beside a courtyard fountain.
"But healthier villages produce stronger harvests next year."
The older advisor considered the argument.
"So you would accept short-term losses."
"I would invest in long-term stability."
Caelan listened quietly.
Most nobles preferred immediate profit.
Rowan consistently spoke about years instead of months.
It was the thinking of someone preparing to inherit an entire kingdom.
The discussion continued toward the palace archives before the advisors finally excused themselves.
For the first time that day, Rowan found himself walking without conversation.
He slowed slightly.
"You've been unusually quiet."
Caelan looked at him.
"I wasn't aware I was expected to entertain."
A small smile appeared.
"I've noticed you speak more than most guards."
"Only when necessary."
"And is this one of those necessary moments?"
Caelan thought about it.
"No."
The smile widened.
"I suspected as much."
They continued along the shaded walkway overlooking the gardens.
Festival workers hurried below arranging flowers while musicians rehearsed in the distance.
The peaceful atmosphere contrasted sharply with the heightened security surrounding every movement Rowan made.
"Do you ever become tired?" Rowan asked unexpectedly.
"Tired?"
"Of watching everything."
Caelan followed the prince's gaze toward the bustling gardens.
"I've forgotten how not to."
"Even now?"
"Especially now."
Rowan nodded thoughtfully.
"I suppose someone has to."
"It doesn't have to be you."
Caelan answered almost automatically.
"It does."
"Because you're captain?"
"Because I promised."
Rowan glanced sideways.
"Your oath."
"Yes."
The prince was quiet for a moment.
"Does it ever frighten you?"
"The oath?"
"The possibility that one day it may ask more than you're willing to give."
Caelan stopped walking.
He had never truly considered the question.
The oath demanded everything.
That had always been understood.
"If that day comes," he finally said, "I'll already know my answer."
"What is it?"
"I'll keep the promise."
Rowan studied him with an expression Caelan couldn't quite interpret.
Respect.
Sadness.
Perhaps both.
"You really believe duty comes before everything."
"I have to."
"And if one day your heart disagrees?"
Caelan held the prince's gaze.
"Then my heart will lose."
The words felt absolute.
They always had.
Rowan looked away first.
"I hope you're never forced to prove it."
"So do I."
Their conversation ended as palace attendants approached with new documents requiring Rowan's attention.
Caelan resumed his usual position several steps behind.
Professional.
Watchful.
Unwavering.
That was where a Royal Guard belonged.
The afternoon sun gradually warmed the stone walkways as another series of diplomatic meetings concluded.
By late afternoon, Rowan finally stepped outside for fresh air before preparing for the evening banquet.
Caelan accompanied him through a quieter section of the palace gardens where blooming jasmine climbed along ancient stone walls.
The prince slowed near a marble pavilion.
For the briefest moment, his shoulders stiffened.
His breathing caught almost imperceptibly.
Caelan noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
Rowan blinked.
"Nothing."
The answer came a fraction too quickly.
Then it happened.
A faint fragrance drifted across the breeze.
Delicate.
Warm.
Like rain falling over cedar forests touched by blooming jasmine.
The same impossible scent Caelan had noticed after the assassination attempt.
It lasted only a heartbeat before disappearing completely.
Rowan's fingers brushed discreetly against the inside of his sleeve.
When he lowered his hand again, the fragrance had vanished as though it had never existed.
None of the nearby attendants reacted.
The servants continued arranging festival flowers.
The guards remained focused on their patrols.
No one else seemed to have noticed.
Only Caelan.
He frowned slightly but said nothing.
Whatever that scent had been, Rowan clearly hadn't wanted anyone to notice it.
And whatever secret the Crown Prince was carrying, it was becoming just a little harder to keep hidden.
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