“If that’s your mentality, why bother hiring me at all? If you’re just going to roll over and die when confronted with the first sign of danger, what the hell am I doing here? Or is this Princess Guard of yours just for show?”
“Of course not!” My pulse kicks up speed. “I’m perfectly aware I’m not an expert at protecting myself. That’s the whole damn reason I need you!”
“And I will do my best to protect you. But that doesn’t just mean acting as your shield. It also means teaching you to identify threats and guard yourself against them, even if you’re alone. Even if you’re up against a wall, unarmed, with an assailant closing in and no help in sight.”
My stomach twists. “For the record, I really, really, really hope that never happens.”
“For the record?” Her expression softens and a bit of the sharpness goes out of her tone. “We’re on the same page about that, Princess.”
There’s a long beat of silence while we stare at each other. In truth, I’m a little thrown off — it’s been a long time since anyone scolded me like this. A long time since someone treated me like I’m just a normal college kid — a girl who screws up and miscalculates and occasionally needs to be steered in the right direction, for her own good.
Ever since they plunked this crown on my head, most people I encounter either want to put me on a pedestal, pull my strings like a puppet, or hide from my presence altogether. Enemies attempt to manipulate me; strangers fawn over me like a celebrity; staff express outright fear that I’m going to have them tossed in the castle dungeons at the slightest provocation. (I’m pretty positive we don’t evenhavecastle dungeons anymore, but that doesn’t seem to make any difference whatsoever.)
As the princess, asHer Royal Highness Emilia Victoria Lancaster, to most everyone on the planet, I am untouchable. Even Simms and Lady Morrell, with all their critiques and criticisms, couch their anger in polite conversation and conceal their frustration beneath well-practiced platitudes. But my new bodyguard doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about royal protocols. And shedefinitelydoesn’t worry about offending me by speaking her mind.
It’s a refreshing change of pace.
“Why did you do it?” I ask suddenly.
Her blonde brows lift.
“Why did you agree to work for me?” I shake my head, confused. “Everyone else followed Bane’s orders. Everyone else figured I wasn’t worth whatever trouble defecting from the King’s Guard will inevitably cause… So.Why? Why did you risk it?”
She’s quiet for a long time. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to answer my question at all, until she finally heaves a sigh and grunts out a small laugh. “The guys in the guard — most of them are great. Honorable, well-trained, intelligent. They’re exactly the kind of people you’d want watching your six in enemy territory when you’re out of ammo. They’d take a bullet for you, no question. But that doesn’t mean they were thrilled by the prospect of a woman joining their ranks.”
“Seriously? This isn’t the 1950s, for god’s sake. Women aren’t required to stay home and cook casseroles anymore.”
“Trust me, some of the guys made it clear they thought I’d be better suited to standing behind a stove than holding a lethal weapon.”
“That’s so sexist. You took the same tests. You endured the same training. You earned your spot in the guard, same as them.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Women in male-dominant industries willalwayshave to work twice as hard to prove they got to where they are based on merit. Do you know how many times I’ve been asked if I slept my way into the unit? Do you know how many instructors asked me if I was lost when I showed up to take the physical qualification tests? How many of them shook their heads and smiled and called mecutewhen I said I wanted to become the first female ranking officer of the King’s Guard?”
Anger stirs inside me; I’m outraged on her behalf.
“Everyone in the unit has a nickname,” Galizia continues. “Bane picks them during our first week of active duty — some sort of backwards hazing ritual. Yates wears glasses, so he’s Specs. Anderson is from a tiny mountain village, so he’s The Alp. Riggs is our best shooter, so he’s Bullseye. You get the picture.”
“Sure.”
“Know what nickname he gave me? What I’m known as, among the guys?” Her lips press down into a thin line. “Squat. Because women…” She pulls in a rattling, rage-laced breath and swallows down her indignation. “Because I have tosquatto pee. Because they had to build a separate stall for me in the barracks. Because I had the audacity to possess different anatomy.”
Her own commander.
Her closest comrades.
The men she is supposed to trust with her life.
The men who are supposed to empower her.
Instead… they tried to tear her apart.
I’m horrified, but I don’t have any words to comfort her. There’s nothing I can say to fix it. “Galizia, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was like that for you.”
“I didn’t tell you because I want your pity. I told you because I wanted you to understand that for me, leaving the King’s Guard wasn’t a tough decision. All my life, I’ve wanted to serve my country at the top-tier, to do the most good wherever I’m most needed.” Her mouth twists. “Seems to me, right now… that’syou, Your Highness. You need someone to watch your back; I saw that opportunity and decided to take it. It’s not complicated. I’m not conflicted about my choice.”
“Still, not everyone would’ve done it. In fact, every other soldier in that room flat-out refused to even consider it. So… thank you. Regardless of your reasons, I’m grateful to have you.” I pause. “Even when you yell at me.”
“Speaking of which…” She lifts the stack of letters still in her grip. “I made sure this particular batch of mail was screened for threats before the pageboy got his hands on it, but from now on, don’t accept anything until you know I’ve checked it personally. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to lace an envelope with anthrax or another chemical agent. Inelegant,yes— yet rather effective as an assassination technique.”