Crouching behind a row of meticulously trimmed bushes, I curse under my breath at the ridiculous dress impeding my movements. The conversation between Duke Sinclair and Lady Clarissa is heating up, their whispered words tantalizingly close but impossible to make out clearly. Even if I can read lips, I wish I could move closer, but this blasted gown would give me away in an instant.

Suddenly, Lady Clarissa's stare turns icy cold, her gaze unwavering as she steps menacingly close to Duke Sinclair. "You think I have nothing at stake in this?" she hisses, her voice low and threatening. The Duke, so confident and arrogant moments before, seems taken aback. His sharp features are contorted in surprise, his eyes wide and searching for an escape.

Lady Clarissa's voice takes on a dangerous edge as she presses a finger against the Duke's chest. "Believe me," Lady Clarissa continues, "I want this as much as you do. There is much more on the line for me than you can possibly imagine."

The air is thick with secrets, and each word they utter is a piece of a puzzle I'm desperate to solve. What does Lady Clarissa mean? What goal do they have in common? My curiosity piqued, I risk leaning in closer when unexpectedly a shadow looms over me, blocking the moonlight.

Startled, I whirl around to face the unknown presence behind me. My hand instinctively curls into a fist, poised to strike at the throat of whoever dares to approach me. But as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I recognize the handsome figure of Sir Tristan. His tall, muscular frame looms over me, his striking features barely visible in the dim light. His piercing gaze meets mine with confusion, and I struggle to suppress my trained assassin instincts.

"Princess Seraphina," Tristan says, his voice smooth despite the confusion etched across his face, "What are you doing there?"

My heart races as I scramble for an excuse. "I, uh, lost a bracelet," I stammer, wincing internally at how utterly unconvincing it sounds. "Got it now, though," I finish.

"Glad you found it," Tristan replies with a smile that practically oozes charm. I can just imagine him practicing it in front of a mirror for hours, trying to perfect its devastating effect. He extends a hand to help me up, and I grudgingly accept, trying to hide my irritation at his untimely interruption. I was so close to uncovering more about the conspiracy that led to my death!

Suppressing any signs of irritation, I bow my head and grasp Tristan's hand tightly. As I rise to my feet, Tristan's hand immediately finds its way to my waist. His touch is gentle yet tinged with a hint of sensuality that sends a shiver down my spine. He pulls me into his embrace, and I immediately catch a whiff of his lavender cologne.

His features are undeniably handsome and he's impeccably groomed, though his appearance seems almost too perfect, like he's spent ages carefully arranging every strand of hair. His clothes, too, are elegant and meticulously tailored, emphasizing his lean, muscular build.

"Seraphina," he murmurs in a low, seductive tone, "I've been looking for you all over. You weren't in the ballroom."

Disgusted by his hands on my waist, I swiftly but gently remove them, putting some distance between us. Trying my best to feign a smile, I ask, "Why are you here, Tristan?"

"Ugh, why won't he just go away?" I think to myself, my frustration mounting. I desperately want to return to spying on the Duke and Lady Clarissa, but Tristan seems determined to thwart me as he simply shrugs and gestures for me to follow him.

He doesn't answer my question, instead taking me by the arm and intending to lead me further into the garden. His grip is firm but not unkind, and for a moment, I consider slapping his hand away and running back to continue eavesdropping on the conspirators. But what can I do? If I make any noise, the Duke and Lady Clarissa would be alerted, and I can't risk being discovered. Besides, that's not the way Princess Seraphina would behave anyway.

So, instead, I grit my teeth and bear it as Tristan guides me deeper into the palace grounds, the moon casting a silvery glow over the path we tread. As I glance back at Lady Clarissa and the Duke, still engaged in hushed conversation, a sense of helplessness washes over me. I was so close.

Eventually, we arrive at a secluded part of the garden, where night-blooming flowers perfume the air and their vibrant colors seem almost otherworldly in the moonlight. It's undeniably beautiful, but I can't help but wonder why Tristan has brought me here. Does he intend to kill me, far from prying eyes? He seems strong enough, and as an Asterian guard, I'm sure he's been trained properly. Yet even though my new body isn't as skilled as my old one, I'm ready to resist him with everything I've got.

Almost unintentionally, I adopt a defensive stance, my muscles tensing. I watch warily as Tristan walks a few paces away, turning his back to me. I keep a close eye on him, my body ready to react at any moment. Abruptly, he spins around to face me, his gaze locking onto mine with a fierce determination. My heart beats faster as I struggle to understand the intensity in his eyes. "What's going on here?" I wonder silently to myself.

"Princess Seraphina," Tristan begins, his voice uncharacteristically intense. As he approaches, I instinctively shift my weight and prepare to strike. My eyes lock onto his carotid artery, calculating the exact angle and pressure needed to render him unconscious. But then he speaks, and my focus shifts to his words: "I need to ask you something important."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I brace myself, unsure of what to expect. Tristan takes a deep breath, and then, to my utter astonishment, he drops to one knee! "No, no, this can't be happening," I whisper frantically to myself, unable to believe what I'm seeing. "Please don't say anything else..."

"I've loved you since the moment we met," Tristan continues, fumbling through his pockets. Finally, he produces a black velvet box. He opens it, revealing a modest engagement ring with a small diamond and sapphire accents. The engagement ring is underwhelming, surely not fit for the woman who could one day rule the kingdom. I could never have imagined I'd receive an engagement ring from anyone, but even I can tell the ring is way too low-key for someone with the standing of Princess Seraphina. She's one of the potential successors to the Asterian throne, after all.

"Will you marry me?" Tristan asks, with eyes sparkling and a wide smile spread across his stupid face.

Speechless for an instant, I study Tristan's face, utterly baffled. Marry him? I can't imagine a worse fate. The idea is ludicrous. He's the same man who tried to kill me a few days ago. The same man who seduced sweet, innocent Seraphina, all while conspiring against her and canoodling with her so-called best friend!

Rage, hate, and disdain swell within me like a storm about to break. How could he ask such a thing? How dared he? Was this yet another plot concocted by him and Cecilia? What were their intentions? To manipulate and leave me vulnerable until they were ready to strike again? Or perhaps to ruin my reputation? A princess marrying a knight from a minor noble house, even if a member of the Royal Guard, would certainly cause quite the scandal. I clench my fists, almost drawing blood from the nails digging into my palm's flesh.

Tristan's expression shifts to one of confusion, and his smile wavers slightly at the left corner. He remains kneeling, waiting for my response.

I inhale deeply, trying to steady my rising anger. All I want to do is hit his traitorous face with my fist, strike him in the groin and leave him groveling on the ground. But I can't. I have to maintain control; Seraphina would never behave in such a manner, and I can't risk exposing my true identity. However, there's no way I can accept his proposition either. So, I need to politely reject him as if I were Seraphina. Keep calm and think like her, I remind myself. Just channel your inner princess, I chant in my head.

So, finally, I say “No way, but thank you,” with a voice that sounds colder than I intended. Was I able to hide my disgust? I wonder as Tristan’s face completely falls. He wasn’t expecting that, and I internally hope that the rejection stings.

"Wh-What?" Tristan stammers, scrambling to his feet. His grey eyes are wide with disbelief, and the color drains from his cheeks, leaving him ghostly pale. I can't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction at seeing him so utterly crushed.

But that satisfaction is short-lived as Tristan's disbelief morphs into anger. His eyes narrow, the sparkling grey now clouded with a darker hue, the edges glimmering with a dangerous aura.

With a swift movement, Tristan jumps at me and his fingers clamp around my forearm. His eyebrows furrow and his mouth forms a tight line. "Did you say no to me?" His voice is low and rough, his grip on my arm tightening as he speaks. “Are you seriously rejecting me after everything we've been through?” His grip tightens around my arm, and he twists it just enough to make me wince. If I were weaker, I'd be crying in pain. "You can't say no!" His voice becomes louder and more forceful, his face contorted with rage as he leans in closer.

"Let go," I warn, barely controlling my own fury. "You're hurting me." But Tristan doesn't listen, he doesn't let go. Instead, he shakes me and demands, "Why are you rejecting me? Why won't you marry me? Do you think you're better than me just because you're a princess?"

"No," I cut him off, meeting his eyes with a fierce intensity. "I just don't love you."

Tristan's grip loosens, and his arms fall to his sides. His face contorts into an almost maniacal expression as he stares at me with wild eyes. "You don't mean that," he mutters. He stares at the ground before me, as if trying to find some truth hidden there.

"I do," I reply, unwavering. My heart races, daring him to challenge me again.

Suddenly, Tristan's hand clenches into a fist, his knuckles turning white as he raises it towards me. His eyes are filled with rage and his voice is a venomous snarl as he spits out the words, “You will marry me, you whore!”

He moves with surprising speed and I'm not used to this body yet. I see him coming, but I can't move Princess Seraphina's body in time to dodge him. Tristan's right hand is already in the air, fist clenched as he's about to strike me. Damn, I curse in my mind. This wouldn't have happened if I was still in my own body; I need more training with this one.

In a split second, I realize that I could strike him in the groin while he's vulnerable, but it would be completely out of character for Princess Seraphina to resort to violence against a Royal Guard. I can't defend myself either. So I only have one option: take the hit. I brace for the impact, raising my arms to protect my head. I flinch, closing my eyes as Tristan’s fist gets closer to my face.

But the punch never connects. Confused, I open my eyes just in time to see the tall, dark figure of Prince Alexander Hartley standing between us. Even in the dimly lit garden, his silhouette is unmistakable; imposing and broad-shouldered, every inch of his body screams power and authority. His strong jaw is set in determination, his piercing amber eyes deadly as they bore into Tristan. The moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his tousled black hair, making him look like a vengeful demon.

Tristan twists in agony as Alexander deftly manipulates his arm, forcing him to drop to his knees. In a fluid motion, Alexander applies an arm lock that would break Tristan's arm if he made any sudden movements. A surge of begrudging admiration courses through me at the skillful maneuver. As much as I may hate Alexander, I can't deny his expertise.

"I believe the princess said no," Alexander says, his deep velvety voice making my heart race as I stare at the fire in his eyes. Tristan tries to move, only to realize he can't do it without breaking a limb.

As Alexander holds his stance, I can't help but notice the defined muscles that ripple beneath his elegant shirt. I quickly shake my head, scolding myself for focusing on such trivial things at a time like this. The real issue is that an enemy prince may have stumbled upon Princess Seraphina's biggest secret.

What are the chances of that happening? Why was he even here in the first place? How much did he hear? If he knew about Seraphina's illicit relationship with a Royal Guard, he could easily ruin her.

How much worse can this day get?!

Well, it turns out A LOT worse.