I sat in the lavish study behind my desk, wrestling with the weight of my decision. I needed to ensure my own safety. It seemed misfortune stalked my family relentlessly. My father, King Theodore Abrams, had been brutally murdered just days ago, and my brother Oliver had perished under mysterious circumstances a year prior. I barely remembered my mother; she died giving birth to my sister, who now rests in heaven as well. I refused to believe these events were mere coincidences. My father’s death felt like a direct threat to my life as the sole heir to the throne.
A knock at the door snapped me back to reality. With a trembling voice, I granted permission to enter, knowing exactly who would step into the room. I wasn’t mistaken. There he stood, even more striking than I remembered. He positioned himself near the door, tall and composed, lowering his head slightly as his chocolate-brown eyes met mine, igniting a fire within me.
“You summoned me, Your Highness?”
His velvety voice sent a shiver through me, like a swarm of ants skittering across my stomach, tickling faintly. Despite my burning cheeks, I nodded for him to take a seat. It seemed long-buried feelings for this man were resurfacing with renewed intensity, forcing me to reconsider my decision once more. As Atrey approached slowly, I noticed how much he’d matured. His dark hair was neatly combed back, and his gray coat with black buttons was impeccably pressed, not a single crease in sight. With effort, I tore my gaze away from admiring him and began the difficult conversation for which I’d summoned him.
“As you know, my father was brutally murdered in his own chambers.” The memory of that horrific event hit me hard, and tears welled up in my eyes once again. Though I’d vowed never to cry again, I felt on the verge of breaking that promise. As the queen I’d now become, I had to be strong—especially in front of Atrey, who still saw me as a spoiled little girl. Swallowing the bitter lump of pain in my throat, I continued, “I’m afraid something similar could happen to me. I need reliable protection. Bartholomew, my father’s head of security, failed in his duties, so I’ve dismissed him. I need someone new in that role, someone who can ensure my safety, someone I can trust. I’m offering that position to you.”
An awkward silence settled over the room. Atrey’s piercing gaze seemed to search for something within me. He didn’t appear thrilled by the proposal.
“Is this an order?”
“It’s a promotion offer. I don’t want to force you into something you’re unwilling to do.”
The corners of his coveted lips twitched upward, as if mocking me, before he asked, “And what prompted this offer? My feelings toward you haven’t changed. They’re the same as they were six years ago.”
My cheeks flared with heat once more, burning even hotter. I knew this conversation would be tough, but I’d hoped Atrey wouldn’t bring up that humiliating moment. I was thirteen then, consumed by an intense crush on this infuriating man, who had just turned twenty and been assigned to guard me. I don’t know why, but he’d completely captured my heart. All my attempts to catch his attention failed; Atrey stubbornly refused to see me as anything more than a child. Desperate, I decided to confess my feelings, naively believing that as a princess, no one could refuse me.
On New Year’s Eve, during a grand ball, I mustered the courage and slipped out to the winter garden. I knew he’d follow; it was his job. Once I confirmed we were alone outside, I poured my heart out, confessing my first, true, pure, and sincere love for him. I can still recall the hurtful words that etched themselves into my soul forever.
“With all due respect, Princess Arabella, your feelings are not reciprocated and never will be. You’re still so young, and in time, you’ll realize you’re mistaken about me. This childish infatuation will pass soon enough. I’m just a simple guard, unworthy of you. Your destiny is to marry a prince, or at the very least, a wealthy duke. Don’t build false dreams about me. Even if we were of the same social standing, our paths in life are different. So, forget about your guard, Princess.”
I’d never felt such humiliation. In an instant, he shattered my heart, my dignity, and my hopes. But the worst was yet to come. My older brother Oliver, still alive at the time, and his friend, Duke Lester, had witnessed my shameful confession. After hearing Atrey’s response, they burst into laughter from behind nearby boxwood bushes. They emerged triumphantly before my tear-filled eyes. Oliver, barely containing his amusement, declared, “What news! Our Arabella’s in love. I’m telling Father right away.”
Before I could utter a word, he and his inseparable friend dashed off toward the palace. I stood rooted to the spot, knowing that once Oliver set his mind on something, nothing could stop him. I hadn’t imagined such an outcome when I took that risk. It was a complete disaster. Gathering the remnants of my pride, I turned, lifted my chin high, and hurried to my room. As my tutors had taught me, a princess must remain composed in any situation. Atrey followed silently behind, and as I crossed the threshold of my chambers, he lowered his head and murmured softly, “I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”
I slammed the door in his face. This was all his fault. How dare he reject me, the princess of an entire kingdom? I glanced at myself in the mirror—I looked beautiful. Thanks to my lady’s maid, my chestnut hair was swept into an elegant updo, my brown eyes peered out from beneath long black lashes, my lips were just the right shade of red, and a fresh blush glowed on my cheeks. My deep blue gown accentuated my slender waist, complementing the jewels at my neck and the stunning sapphire diadem atop my head. Yet, apparently, I wasn’t beautiful enough for him, and even my status as princess hadn’t swayed him. With a surge of anger, I tore off the diadem and hurled it to the floor. I cried nearly all night, unsure where so many tears came from. It felt as if I might flood the room with them.
By the next day, everyone in the palace knew about my conversation with Atrey. Whispers, mockery, and gossip reached my ears; I’d become a laughingstock. My father was furious. Summoning me, he sternly explained that my behavior was unbecoming of a princess and that no young lady should act in such a way. Atrey was immediately reassigned to his personal guard, so I saw him less often and stopped speaking to him altogether. I was angry with him, convinced he was to blame for the rumors spreading through the palace. Only three people knew of my confession, so one of them must have talked. I didn’t rule out that it was the insolent guard—after all, it’s not every day a princess declares her love for you. Then came endless etiquette lectures from my tutors, and a month later, the king announced my engagement to Prince Darrel Rodman of a neighboring kingdom. My fate was sealed.
Emerging from those painful memories, I tried to remain calm and conceal my unease.
“My feelings for you, on the other hand, have changed. You were right—my childish crush faded quickly, if that’s what you’re referring to.” I caught myself realizing I was trying to convince myself more than him. All these years, my feelings for Atrey had burned fiercely in my heart, and only in the past year had I managed to suppress them and stop dreaming of him. I’d finally fallen out of love. Adding a hint of indignation to my voice, I continued, “Besides, I have a fiancé, and our wedding will likely take place in about a month. I chose you for this position because I can’t trust anyone else. You once saved my father’s life, and I hope, if the need arises, you’ll do the same for me.”
Atrey had protected my father from an enemy arrow meant for the king. He’d shielded him, knocking him to the ground, and the arrow struck nearby, miraculously missing them both. I wasn’t lying when I said my decision to appoint Atrey as head of my guard was based solely on that incident. Moreover, he’d proven himself a skilled warrior, a loyal and honest servant. With a relieved sigh, he agreed.
“It’s a great honor to serve you. However, if I become head of your guard, I believe we should increase the number of sentries accompanying you at all times. Two behind, two ahead, and one on each side—six in total. If necessary, they can form a protective circle around you. I also recommend clearing the royal wing of all occupants and allowing entry only with explicit permission. This will make it harder for anyone to access your chambers, forcing a potential assassin to seek other means. Additionally, your room should be inspected every time you enter. If you permit, these measures should remain in place at least until the king’s murderer is found. I believe it’s someone close to the court—slipping unnoticed into the royal chambers and silently killing the king with a knife, leaving no trace, isn’t something just anyone could do.”
Listening to his suggestions, I became convinced I’d made the right choice. I hoped he could protect me. Sitting up straighter in my chair, I tried to appear regal.
“Very well, I authorize all these measures for my safety. There’s one more matter I’d like to entrust to you.” I noticed a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He watched me intently, seemingly tracking my every move. “The investigation into my father’s murder is being handled by First Advisor Roderick Gellman, but I don’t trust him. He hasn’t found a single lead. I want you to conduct a parallel investigation. My father’s killer must be brought to justice.”
No sooner had I mentioned the killer than my uncle, Joseph Abrams, burst into the study without knocking. He was the person I feared most. His relationship with my father had always been strained; Father suspected him in Oliver’s death, though no evidence was ever found. For years, Uncle Joseph had lived in a distant duchy with his two daughters and wife, rarely appearing in the capital. He stood to gain the most from these deaths and was now second in line to the throne.
Since I hadn’t yet reached the age of majority, according to succession laws, my uncle would become my regent, effectively ruling the kingdom—and my life—for the next two years. The only way to avoid this was to marry, making my husband the regent instead. That was exactly what I planned to do. I hoped Darrel Rodman would respond quickly to my letter requesting we hold our wedding as soon as possible. After all, we’d been engaged for six years, even if I’d only met him once. To prevent my uncle from seizing power, I was prepared to marry anyone. My father hadn’t trusted him for a reason, and it was possible he was the very killer everyone was so diligently searching for.
Joseph Abrams, ignoring Atrey’s presence—who had stood and lowered his head—strode toward me with complaints.
“Arabella, Bartholomew tells me you’ve dismissed him. He’s a respected figure who’s served at court for many years. Your decision is reckless and baseless. Moreover, you don’t have the authority to make such calls. I’m your regent, and these matters are for me to decide.”