The Princess’s Bodyguard Can’t Say No

The banquet hall was thick with air, perfumed and softly whispered. Chandeliers revolved lazily overhead, casting radiance and stretching shadows across silk gowns and masked faces.

Reth's heart beat in his ears. He froze, frozen by her gaze.

The woman standing before him had a silver mask in the form of raven wings. The sunlight struck it at the perfect angle, cutting as a blade. Her red lips parted. A single word hung between them.

"You."

He clutched the tray harder. One glass remained — golden and bubbling softly.

He appeared like any other servant. Simple brown attire. Slumped shoulders. Bad arm carefully tucked into a clean cuff. He had to maintain the pose. One person seeing him might ruin everything.

Asthia and Elenya were betting on him staying under the radar, getting what they required, and getting out scot-free. The woman before him wasn't in the equation.

Reth's gaze remained on the floor. His voice was low, soothing.

"Your drink, my lady," he said, holding out the glass once more. He shifted to the side so the light couldn't catch his face.

Her head moved slowly. Long black hair tumbled over one shoulder. Her dark dress caught the light with every movement.

For an instant, her face changed. Her fierce gaze softened.

I. I thought you were someone else," she said. Her tone had dropped — a little uncertain now. "Your voice. It sounds so familiar. Like someone I knew once."

His heart contracted. But his expression remained flat. Just a servant. Just a passing-through.

[ Threat Perception Lv. 2 – Active ]

Hostile Intent: None

He nodded his head ever so slightly.

"I apologize, my lady," he replied. "I am a servant. Must be the accent. Many of us sound alike here."

He infused a little of the coarse tone he'd picked up in the Outer Markets. A white lie — but it sounded plausible enough.

She eyed him closely. The light of the candles danced over her mask. The silver wings seemed to ripple like they might take flight.

"Perhaps," she replied, and finally accepted the glass. Her hand brushed against his. Cold. Deliberate? He couldn't say.

Just as he turned away—

"Wait," she told him.

Reth came to a stop.

He glanced over, making sure to keep his stance crouched, his voice controlled. "Yes, my lady?"

She placed the glass on a shelf beside her, unopened.

There's something snagged on the back of my dress," she said. "It's nothing, really, but it keeps snagging when I move. Could you—?"

Reth hesitated. His hold on the tray tightened again.

"I could ask one of the ladies of the staff to come to you, my lady," he said. "It wouldn't be proper for me to—

She held up a hand, forestalling him. "It's only a thread. I don't require assistance in changing gowns, just a quickening. You won't have to touch anything at all."

She spoke softly. Airily.

Reth looked around. No one was paying attention. Nevertheless, this wasn't something he was supposed to do.

"I'm only here to pour drinks," he said prudently.

She stepped forward.

And now I'm asking you for a small favor," she told him, soft but firm. "You don't want to be unhelpful, do you?"

"."

"Where would you like me to… help?" he inquired finally.

She cocked her head once more. Her voice went low, near-playful. "Somewhere less crowded."

She stood up and strode toward one of the side passages — slowly enough to observe whether he would follow.

Reth breathed in. Placed the empty tray on a nearby table.

And then he followed her, feet silent, heart clamoring.

The hall past the banquet room was still. The music and voices behind them receded. Marble turned to stone beneath their feet, and the walls narrowed and chilled. A sensation of going out of something soft — and into something hard.

Reth trailed after her, maintaining a little distance between them.

She halted beside a tiny corner, half-concealed behind a hanging curtain. One wall light burned close by. No nobles. No servants. Only still stone and gentle candlelight.

Reth began to speak—

—but before he could open his mouth, she faced him.

She caught his collar and shoved him back.

His shoulders impacted the wall. Cold stone dug into his back.

She stepped in close. Close enough for him to smell the perfume on her — warm and biting, like cinnamon.

Her face was inches from his.

The raven wings on the silver mask seemed to tilt. The light made it glitter. Her breathing was slow. Steady.

"You didn't recognize me?" she whispered.

Her voice was smooth.

"I knew you from your voice. And you didn't even glance twice?"

Reth swallowed. His hands remained at his sides. But within, his heart pounded.

Then her fingers went to the side of her mask.

Slowly, she pulled it off.

Seris.

Same deep eyes. Same sharp cheekbones. Same red lips.

But something else flickered on her face — something raw.

Anger?

Sadness?

He couldn't say.

"I remembered everything," she told him. "Every word you said. Every lie."

Reth remained silent.

He didn't know what to sayyyy this came out of nowhere!!.

She did not step aside. Her hand remained fixed on his collar. Her face still against his.

"Well?" she breathed. "Nothing to say?"