Lady Seraphina Voss moved like she owned gravity itself.
Heels sharp enough to kill clicked across the marble, white silk dress clinging to a body that had never known a single skipped meal or a sleepless night. Diamonds flashed at her throat, her ears, her left hand, the engagement ring the tabloids had screamed about for weeks. Her platinum-blonde hair was twisted into an elegant knot that probably took three stylists and an act of parliament to achieve.
She was beautiful the way a glacier is beautiful: cold, perfect, and capable of crushing anything in its path.
And her eyes, pale arctic blue, locked on me like I was a stain on her future crown.
Alessandro's hand fell from my face the instant she appeared, but it was too late. She had seen.
I dropped into the deepest curtsy I could manage without falling over, palms pressed to my thighs to hide how badly they shook.
"Y-Your Grace," I stammered.
Seraphina's smile was flawless. It never reached her eyes.
"Why is this servant trembling?" she asked, voice light, musical, lethal. "Did she offend you, darling?"
She reached out, manicured fingers aiming to tilt my chin up, inspect me the way one inspects damaged goods.
Alessandro moved faster than thought.
His hand shot out and closed around her wrist, stopping her an inch from my face.
"Don't touch her," he said. Quiet. Deadly.
The hallway went perfectly still.
Seraphina froze, red lips parting in surprise. The assistants behind her exchanged wide-eyed glances. Even the guards at the far end shifted uncomfortably.
Alessandro never raised his voice at Seraphina. Everyone knew that. The perfect, controlled prince and the perfect, controlled fiancée, two statues performing affection for the cameras.
But right now his grip on her wrist was white-knuckled, and the muscle in his jaw looked ready to shatter.
Seraphina recovered first. She let out a soft, tinkling laugh and gently twisted her hand free.
"How protective," she murmured, eyes flicking from him to me and back again. "One would almost think she matters."
I took that moment to bolt.
I backed away, curtsied again to no one in particular, and fled down the corridor like the hounds of hell were behind me.
I didn't stop until I turned the corner, then I pressed my back to the wall and tried to remember how lungs worked.
Their voices carried anyway. Marble hallways are cruel that way.
Seraphina, low and silky: "Are you protecting her, Alessandro?"
His reply was pure royal ice: "I don't tolerate bullying. I protect my staff. All of them."
My palace, my rules."
My heart, stupid, traitorous thing, fluttered for half a second.
Then sank like a stone.
My staff. My palace. My property.
That's all I was to him now. A possession he didn't want damaged by someone else.
I wrapped my arms around my middle and forced myself to keep walking.
I didn't see the way he stared after me, the way his hands curled into fists the moment I disappeared.
I didn't hear Seraphina's next words, soft and venomous:
"We'll see how long that lasts, darling. Maids come and go. I intend to stay."
I rounded another corner, vision swimming, and slammed straight into a wall of muscle.
Strong hands caught my upper arms before I could fall.
I looked up, and up, into sharp green eyes and a jagged scar.
The bodyguard from yesterday. The one who had watched Alessandro and me like he was memorizing every crack in the façade.
He didn't let go.
"Careful, little maid," he said, voice low, amused, laced with something darker. "Wouldn't want you to bruise."
His thumbs brushed the bare skin just above my sleeves, slow, deliberate.
Behind us, somewhere far away, Seraphina's laughter echoed like breaking glass.
The bodyguard tilted his head, studying me with unblinking intensity.
"You're shaking again," he murmured. "Want to tell me why the Crown Prince almost broke his fiancée's wrist over you?"
My mouth went dry.
He smiled, slow and wolfish, and leaned in until his next words ghosted across my ear.
"Or should I just… find out myself?"