Page 10 of Royal Guard

The more I thought about the whole thing, the less I liked it.Who the hell is after her?

While I’d been thinking, Director Gibson had started leafing through a file. It was only when he started talking that I realized whose file it was. “Four tours in the Marines. Afghanistan. Iraq. Two Purple Hearts, two Silver Stars and then you were justgone.Discharged, but it doesn’t say why. The whole thing’s redacted.”

I stared silently back at him.

“Must have been something big. With your record, they wouldn’t discharge you without a damn good—”

“I hit a guy for asking too many questions,” I growled.

He tried to look tough but I could see the way he paled. He nodded and put the file down. “Well, whatever the reason you left...I’m glad you were on that flight today. She would have been dead, without you. You did a good thing.”

And he held out his hand.

I sat there staring at it for a second. It was a hell of a long time since anyone had praised me, longer still since someone had wanted to shake my hand. I slowly took his hand and shook it. For a suit, he wasn’t so bad.

When we went back into the main room, everyone was on their feet looking at something. It took a while for me to press my way to the front and then, as the crowd parted….

She’d changed into a dress—

No.Dresswasn’t right. She’d changed into a gown.

I’d heard stories of women spending thousands of dollars on clothes. I’d never understood how a few handfuls of fabric could possibly cost that much...until I saw this. It probably cost a year’s rent on my apartment and it was worth every damn cent.

It was a warm white, formal but approachable, somehow. It clung tight on her top half, following every curve of that gorgeous body. It wasn’t low cut—it was carefully respectable, in fact—but it revealed just enough cleavage and hugged her just closely enough to spark a whole chain reaction in my brain about what she looked like underneath. It nipped in tight at the waist and then flared out into a huge, circular skirt that went right down to the floor and must have been four feet across at the bottom. The whole thing was embroidered with gold thread but the pattern was so delicate, it didn’t look gaudy or flashy. It looked...beautiful.I hadn’t realized princesses still dressed like...well,princesses.But then I remembered how fiercely traditional she’d said Lakovia was. And I loved it. She looked like a princessshouldlook.

But the dress was only a frame. What mattered washer. That long, shining chestnut hair wasn’t mussed now: it hung in soft waves over her shoulders. There wasn’t a trace of dust or dirt on her pale skin and the fear in her eyes had gone. She wore a gleaming silver tiara, each point holding a tiny, sparkling jewel.

She’d been gorgeous on the plane, asleep in pajamas. She’d been gorgeous in the desert, dirty and disheveled. Now she was the Princess of Lakovia again and she took my breath away.

She’d been moving around the room, thanking the FBI agents for their hard work. They were grinning and doing their best to bow and curtsy. I recognized the look in their eyes because I’d felt it, too: surprise at how friendly and down-to-earth she was.

And then she turned, saw me and walked towards me. The entire room turned to watch. I felt like a teenager again, watched by the whole school as the prom queen approaches. She stopped right in front of me. “I need to thank you,” she said.

I swallowed. When had my mouth gotten so dry? “It was nothing.”

She just looked up at me and I saw in those big green eyes just how grateful she was. More than she could say. And I had that feeling again, like the wind had grabbed hold of something inside me, ballooning it, tugging me into action. I stood up straighter. My arm kindatwitchedlike it wanted to do something but I didn’t know what.What is this?

I settled for just nodding. But partway through, I caught her eye and a crazy idea blew through me like a tornado. I’d remembered something from old stories my mom used to read me when I was a kid. Knights who saved princesses and what they said afterwards—

I wanted to say,the only thing I ask for is a kissfrom you.The words were actually on my lips. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.No, you idiot! No!

She was too beautiful, too special. I wanted—needed—to just scoop my hand under her butt, pick her up and tilt her back and—

My mouth opened. I drew in a breath.No! What are you doing?!

And I saw her draw in her breath, too. Not horrified. Anticipating. Her cheeks colored but her eyes flicked down—did she just look at my lips?Everyone was still watching us but they’d all faded into the background. They didn’t matter anymore.

And then someone stepped between us. The old guard from the plane, his silver hair as perfectly coiffed as ever. “All of usare grateful,” he told me. His voice was smooth but his eyes bored into me like lasers.

I felt my face go hot.You big idiot! Like she wantsyoukissing her.I’d been kidding myself. She’d been horrified, not excited.

And then the Princess glanced up at me and blushed.

Guiltily.

I forced a smile onto my face. “You’re welcome,” I told the old guard.

“This is Emerik,” said the Princess. “He’s been my guard since I was a baby.” Then she nodded at the young guard, the one who was all muscle. “And that’s Jakov: he’s much newer.”

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