“Better weak and alive than strong and dead.”
I crossed my arms. “That's not your decision to make.”
“Actually, is exactly my decision. I am head of your security. I assess threats. I determine protocols. You follow them.”
“I'm not your subordinate, Viktor. I'm the Crown Prince. You work for me.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Hurt, maybe. Or anger. Hard to tell with all that control.
“I work to keep you breathing,” he said. Voice gone quiet. Dangerous. “Whether you appreciate that or not.”
“I appreciate it. What I don't appreciate is being told I can't do my job because you're paranoid.”
“Paranoid.” He repeated the word like it tasted bad. “Is paranoid to recognize pattern?”
“You're assuming that there's some grand conspiracy instead of just bad luck and palace politics.”
“Bad luck.” Viktor laughed. Sharp. Humorless. “That chandelier was inspected two months ago. Passed all safety checks. Then suddenly support bolt fails at exact moment you are underneath? That is not luck. That is planning.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know enough.” He moved closer. Close enough I could see the muscle jumping in his jaw. See the barely leashed fury in those pale eyes. “I know you are treating this like game. Like performance where you show everyone how brave and unshakeable you are. But this is not game, Sebastian. This is your life. And you are gambling with it like it means nothing.”
“It means everything,” I shot back. “But so does duty. So does showing the people their prince isn't cowering behind palace walls. So does proving that whoever is doing this won't win.”
“They already won if you are dead.”
“Then keep me alive. That's your job, isn't it?”
“It is impossible when you refuse to take threats seriously.”
“I take them seriously. I just don't let them control me.”
“There is difference between bravery and stupidity.”
“Careful, Viktor. You're close to crossing a line.”
“Good. Because you need to hear this.” He stepped even closer. Invading my space. Making me tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “You think being reckless makes you strong. Makes you worthy of crown. But all it does is make everything harder. Makes it so I have to choose between following your orders and keeping you alive.”
“Or what?”
“Or I go to your father. Tell him you are refusing security protocols. That you are making my job impossible. That I cannot protect someone who will not be protected.”
My blood went cold. “You wouldn't.”
“Try me.”
We stared at each other. Two wills colliding. Neither willing to bend.
“You're bluffing,” I said.
“Am I?” He pulled out his comm device. “One call. That is all it takes. Your father will ground you so thoroughly you will not leave palace for months. Is that what you want?”
“You bastard.”
“Da. But I am bastard who will keep you alive despite your best efforts to die.” His thumb hovered over the call button. “So. Do we do this my way? Or do I make that call?”
I wanted to hit him. Wanted to scream. Wanted to throw him out and find a bodyguard who understood that some things were worth dying for.
