I stand before the solid mahogany door, the weight of the words waiting on the other side pressing down on me like a stone. I know exactly what awaits—the cold, somber conversation that I’ve tried to avoid all day.

“Enough,” I mutter under my breath, pounding my knuckles softly against the wood.

“Come in, daughter,” my father’s voice echoes from within.

Crossing the threshold, I find him behind his desk, the deep furrows carved between his brows revealing the storm of worry he carries beneath his composed exterior.

“How many?” I ask softly, stepping closer until my hip bumps against the edge of the desk.

He presses his palm to his face, a slow exhale escaping him. “Too many. We are fortunate to still be here.”

I shift uneasily. Fortune is a fragile thing—an understatement so thin it almost cuts.

My mind roils with the stark reality: I should have been counted among the fallen this morning. Waking now feels like waking from a nightmare into borrowed time. All because of him—my mate.

“Why did they back down?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Father’s eyes flicker with unease as he shifts papers on his desk. “You tell me. You were at the mercy of one of them, and yet they let you live.”

The memory crashes over me—the cold strength that pinned me against the bed, his raw power unleashed with chilling intent just to break me.

What kind of man is he?

“I don't know. I begged, and whoever he was, he spared me.”

My words hang heavy between us. The very idea of him being my mate, especially one who tried to kill me, would ignite a fury in my father I don’t dare imagine. Being a princess only makes this truth harder to bear.

He leans back, tapping his chin thoughtfully, the stubble rough beneath his fingertips. “You'll need a personal guard.”

“I want Andri.”

His face darkens, the weight of loss evident. “He’s gone, Kiva.”

A hollow ache blooms in my chest. Andri was more than a guard—he was a friend, a rare confidante in the isolation of the manor. Replacing him feels impossible.

“I want to attend his funeral.”

Father’s sigh is heavy with regret. “You cannot leave the grounds—not until we uncover who is behind this.”

I settle onto the edge of his desk, ignoring the stack of papers and his silent protests. “I can’t believe I almost died.”

“At the hand of your own mate.” His voice is low, measured.

“And now?” I ask, heart pounding.

“A new guard arrives tonight—from a neighboring kingdom. He’ll train you as well.”

My head snaps up, disbelief sharp. “Training? For what?”

“Self-defense. You must be prepared to protect yourself, should this happen again. He is said to be the best in the land.”

Father rises abruptly, striding past me. I follow quietly, the weight of his decision settling over me like frost.

“Do you trust him?” I ask, voice tight.

“He’s an ex-mercenary. He’ll do his job.”

Mercenary? The word tastes bitter—hired killers, not protectors.

“I suppose I don’t get a say.”

“No,” Father replies firmly. “It’s not a princess’s burden to choose.”

The cold order stings. My life, shaped and controlled by forces beyond my command.

“Your safety comes first,” he adds. “You’ll also need to prepare a statement for the kingdom. They will want to know you live—and that we will retaliate.”

“And my trip to the lake?” I press, clinging to the small hope of normalcy.

“Postponed indefinitely.”

“Until they are caught,” I finish bitterly, turning toward the door.

Questions churn inside me. What kind of man is this new guard? Will he shield me from the very mate who haunts my thoughts?

A flush of contradictory desire rises—I want to see him again, to understand him, even as fear anchors me.

Pausing, I look back over my shoulder. “Father?”

“Yes?”

“When you find them... will you kill them all?” The image of my mate’s demise flashes sharply, a stab beneath my ribs.

He meets my gaze with solemn authority. “Trials will be held, but the sentence will likely be death.”

Resisting feels pointless. Once found, my mate’s fate is sealed.

Which means I must find him first.

***

Moonlight filters weakly through the high windows as I lie staring into the ceiling's shadows. Rest eludes me, stolen by a restless mind.

Rising quietly, I slip on a thin robe and move toward the door. As expected, my temporary guard is slumped against the wall, softly snoring. The steady rhythm of his breath and the gentle patter of rain outside cloak my footsteps as I slip past him.

Father forbade leaving my chambers at night—a decree I quietly defy in my unrest. I crave the rain’s cold kiss on my skin.

Descending the stairs, the sudden creak of the main door opening freezes me. Instinct pulls me into the shadows.

“You have arrived,” a voice announces.

Peeking from my hiding spot, I see a damp maid helping a tall, broad-shouldered man shrug off a soaked jacket. A guard unknown to me stands nearby, watching.

A flash of lightning floods the alabaster floors with stark light, casting long shadows. The man shakes his hair free of rain, each movement deliberate and practiced.

The maid hurriedly takes the jacket and disappears down a corridor, replaced by the new guard who gestures toward the stairs.

“Your quarters are upstairs, at the far right.”

I inhale sharply, heart quickening.

The stranger offers no reply, only a gruff nod.

The King will meet with him in the morning before the formal introduction, the guard adds, voice flat.

My new protector. My sentry.

From here, I glimpse his stature—broad, imposing, every inch the warrior. His leather gloves gleam faintly, a promise of lethal skill.

“Fine,” he grunts, voice rough like gravel.

I can’t place his accent—foreign, yet muted.

He moves to ascend the staircase, and I seize the moment to slip into the nearest room, hiding behind the door.

His footsteps echo faintly as he passes, silent as a shadow.

Cautiously, I follow, one hand sliding along the cool stone wall to steady myself.

At the threshold of his room, he pauses, hand lingering on the handle.

“I hope this is where the stalking ends,” he murmurs, voice low and edged with dry humor.

I stiffen, caught.

Turning foolishly, I glance over my shoulder, as if anyone else lurks in the dark.

“Heavy footed,” he sighs, irritation flickering beneath his calm.

There’s no hiding the truth. I stand straighter, smoothing my hair despite the dimness.

“You must be my new guard.” My tone is sharper than intended—pride and nerves tangled together.

I feel his gaze like a scalpel, cutting through pretense.

“Goodnight.”

He opens his door swiftly, stepping inside.

“Wait—what’s your name?” I call out, immediately regretting the childishness of the question.

He reappears, leaning against the doorframe, face shadowed but undeniably striking.

“I have a few hours before I answer to your father. I don’t have to speak to you.”

The bluntness stings.

“Well, you’ll be by my side from now on, so you might as well be civil.”

“Mutual respect for silence might suit us better.”

He closes the door softly behind him, leaving the words hanging in the still air.

My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

“My name is Kiva,” I whisper to the empty hallway. “You’ll come to like me.”

The door shuts completely, the sound final.

I sink back against the wall, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

So, this is my new protector. My future—wrapped in shadows and cold steel.

“Great. Just great,” I mutter, retreating to my chambers to brood in the quiet storm of my thoughts.