The royal gardens were quiet at this hour, bathed in moonlight and shrouded in shadows. You stood at the edge of the fountain, your reflection rippling in the water below. The cool night air brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t the chill that sent shivers down your spine—it was the man standing a few feet behind you, his presence as solid and unyielding as ever.

Rhys Larsen.

You didn’t need to turn around to know he was there. He was always there, watching, guarding, protecting you. It was his job, after all. But lately, it felt like more than that. Like he wasn’t just guarding the princess—you—but something else. Something deeper.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, his gravelly voice breaking the silence. It wasn’t a reprimand, but there was an edge of concern in his tone that made your chest tighten.

“I needed some air,” you replied without looking at him. “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t be far.”

Rhys stepped closer, the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel soft but deliberate. “Damn right I wouldn’t. The gardens might be beautiful, but beauty doesn’t stop danger.”

You sighed, finally turning to face him. His piercing blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Rhys had that effect—a commanding presence that made everything else feel insignificant.

“You can’t protect me from everything, Rhys,” you said softly, your gaze searching his. “No matter how hard you try.”

He crossed his arms, his broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight. “Watch me.”

Rhys had always been stubborn, but tonight, his words carried an intensity that sent your mind reeling. “That’s the problem,” you said, stepping closer to him. “You’re so busy trying to protect me, you don’t see what it’s doing to you.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. “What it’s doing to me doesn’t matter. You’re my priority, princess. You always will be and I, know 79 ways how to kill a man and 70 of them look like an accident.”