Love never ends

Chapter Four

Kamen thrived in the arena, swinging his sword with a precision that seemed almost unnatural for someone so young. Where Ammon moved with grace and careful intention, Kamen moved with raw instinct, every motion sharp and calculated, every strike fueled by an inner fire he could never quite extinguish. The stone walls of the training yard echoed with the crack of wood against wood, the heavy thud of feet driving into the sand. Sweat dripped down his temples as he spun, dodged, and countered, his muscles coiling and releasing with effortless strength. He was a natural warrior—feared by many of the young trainees, respected by all the palace guards, who whispered that he would one day become a general, perhaps even greater than their father. Kamen didn’t care about glory. He didn’t crave admiration. His ambition was quiet, simmering beneath the surface, shaped not by ego but by something far more dangerous: a heart that loved fiercely, silently, and without permission. That heart belonged to Cleo, though he would never admit it aloud. His love for her was a constant, silent shadow that followed him everywhere, even into the loudest arenas and the quietest corners of the palace. It pulled at him, softened him in ways he resented, and hardened him in ways he never intended. Kamen did not know how to show affection in soft words or gentle gestures. Kindness felt foreign in his tongue, awkward on his skin. Instead, he protected her in the only ways he understood — through rules, strictness, and the occasional sharp scolding that left her glaring at him with indignation but also, strangely, with trust. He watched her from afar, always alert, always tense, always ready to intervene before danger could reach her. He didn’t know how to show love, so he showed caution. He didn’t know how to offer comfort, so he offered boundaries. And Cleo… Cleo with her wild, bright spirit, rarely appreciated boundaries. One blazing afternoon, he found her climbing the palace wall—again. Her skirt hitched up around her knees, her hair tied back recklessly, her fingers covered in dust and determination. She climbed with the same fearless abandon she brought to everything in life. Kamen’s heart nearly stopped when he caught sight of her dangling thirty feet above the ground. He dropped his practice sword and sprinted across the yard, his chest burning with a mixture of fury and fear. “Cleo!” he barked, his voice echoing through the courtyard. She glanced down, her face glowing with pride and defiance. “I am almost at the top!” she exclaimed, clearly expecting praise instead of anger. “You are reckless,” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through stone. He stood at the base of the wall, fists clenched, jaw tight. His mind raced with every possible disaster — slips, broken bones, someone seeing her and telling the queen, or worse, the king. His pulse thundered so loudly he could barely hear his own voice. “Get down!” Cleo laughed—a wild, bright sound that made his chest feel too full. “I am alive!” she shouted. “Is that not enough?” Kamen’s jaw tightened until it ached. She didn’t understand. She never understood. “One day,” he said through clenched teeth, “you may pay for such recklessness. And I will not be there to save you every time.” His words echoed louder than he intended, heavy with frustration and fear. Cleo’s laughter faded, replaced by a slow, curious frown. She looked down at him, her chin lifted stubbornly, her eyes shining with challenge. “You speak as if everything is your responsibility,” she said, beginning her descent. “As if my life belongs to you.” “It does not,” Kamen answered quickly, too quickly. “But your safety does.” Cleo reached the bottom and dusted off her palms. Her chest rose and fell with the thrill of the climb, her cheeks flushed, her smile bright. She tilted her head at him. “Since when?” Kamen opened his mouth, but no answer came out. He didn’t know what to say, from the moment I first saw you run barefoot across the marble floors. Or since the day you told me I wasn’t as scary as everyone said. Or from the first time you smiled at me even after I yelled at you. Instead, he turned away, picking up his sword as if the blade could hide the tremble in his hands. “Just stop climbing the walls,” he muttered, unable to meet her eyes. Cleo watched him closely, sensing the tension he refused to acknowledge. She stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm — a rare gesture of softness. “You worry too much,” she said quietly. But there was no laughter this time, no teasing. Just understanding, warm and gentle. And that understanding shattered him. Because even as he tried to stand tall, a piece of his heart ached painfully beneath her touch. He was mean to her, yes. Harsh. Overbearing. Quick to snap, slow to apologize. But it was only because she didn’t see what he saw—the dangers lurking beyond palace walls, the people who wished to use her future crown for their own gain, the threats that followed her innocence like shadows. It was only because he loved her too fiercely to show it gently. His love wasn’t soft like Ammon’s. It wasn’t patient or delicate. His love was sharp, protective, desperate—a force he struggled to contain. Sometimes, he wondered if she would ever understand that the anger in his voice was fear in disguise. That the harshness in his words was devotion twisted into knots he was too young to untangle. That every rule he imposed, every argument he started, every moment he watched her from a distance… all of it came from a heart that loved her more than he would ever dare say. Cleo didn’t realize it then. She simply rolled her eyes and walked past him, muttering something about “overdramatic warriors.” But Kamen watched her go, his chest tight, knowing that one day, she would have to choose a husband. And deep down — deeper than he would admit to even himself — he feared she would choose the brother who offered her warmth, not the one who guarded her with fire. He feared she would choose Ammon. And the worst part was…he believed she should.