Smart dog.
The man stopped precisely six feet away. Close enough to be polite. Far enough to maintain distance. Far enough that I'd have to work to close the gap if I wanted to.
And god help me, I wanted to.
My father made the introductions, voice warm with relief that made my stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to guilt. “Sebastian, this is Viktor Volkov. He'll be handling your personal security from now on.”
Viktor. The name felt sharp in my mouth before I even said it. All hard consonants and clipped vowels. Russian, probably. Eastern European at the very least.
I extended my hand, keeping the smile in place even though it felt like lying. “Welcome to the circus. Fair warning, the lions are poorly trained and the ringmaster's drunk most afternoons.”
He looked at my hand like I'd offered him a live grenade. Looked at me with those winter-storm eyes that gave away absolutely nothing. Then inclined his head in something that wasn't quite a bow, wasn't quite a nod, was just this side of respectful.
“Your Highness.”
He didn't take my hand.
The rejection was so subtle most people wouldn't have noticed. But I noticed. Noticed the way he kept his hands loose at his sides, ready to move. Noticed the way his eyes tracked everything in the room except me, like I was the least interesting variable in the equation.
Like I was furniture. Fragile, expensive furniture that needed protecting but didn't warrant actual attention.
It shouldn't have bothered me.
It did.
“Just Sebastian is fine,” I said, dropping my hand and pretending the dismissal didn't sting. “We're going to be spending a lot of time together. May as well skip the formality. Unless you're the type who insists on titles during breakfast. In which case, we're going to have problems.”
“I prefer formality, Your Highness.”
Of course he did.
“Formality,” I repeated, letting my smile sharpen into something with teeth. “How delightfully medieval. Should I start wearing a crown to bed? Maybe commission a throne for the bathroom?”
His expression didn't change. Not even a flicker. “If Your Highness wishes.”
I studied him more openly now, letting my curiosity show because subtlety had never been my strong suit. Pale skin that looked like it rarely saw sunlight, like he lived in shadows by choice rather than circumstance. Dark hair cut military-short, practical and severe. Sharp features that could've been handsome if they weren't so aggressively closed off. And those eyes. Cold and assessing and absolutely devoid of anything resembling warmth or humor or basic human connection.
He looked like someone had taken everything soft out of him and forgotten to put it back.
He looked like he'd let them.
“Well then, Viktor,” I said, testing the name on my tongue, feelingthe way it sat there rough and foreign and strangely satisfying. “I hope you're prepared. I'm not exactly easy to keep alive. Previous guards have quit, requested reassignment, or developed stress-related drinking problems. One actually joined a monastery. True story.”
“I am aware of your file, Your Highness.”
“My file.” I laughed, and it came out sharper than I meant it to. “And what does my file say about me? Besides the obvious character flaws and tendency toward self-destruction.”
“That you are reckless.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, like he was reading from a shopping list instead of cataloging my failures. “That you disappear without notice. That previous security has failed to maintain protocols due to your lack of cooperation. That you are liability.”
The words landed like stones in still water. Accurate. Clinical. Completely devoid of judgment, which somehow made them worse.
“Liability,” I repeated, tasting the word. “That's a new one. Usually they go with 'difficult' or 'spirited' or my personal favorite, 'willfully problematic.'”
“Is accurate one.”
Something hot flared in my chest. Not quite anger. Not quite hurt. Something dangerously close to both. “Well, I'd hate to disappoint by proving them wrong. Though I should warn you, I don't do well with being handled. Had a bad experience with leashes as a child.”
“I do not handle, Your Highness. I protect.”
