Princess Amelia shook her head decisively, dispelling the lingering echoes of shock from Tristan’s stunt. It was time to take control of the situation.

  "Stand here, Leon," she commanded with authority.

  The young squire obediently froze behind a tall, neatly trimmed hedge. Here, in a shady corner of the royal garden, stood a secluded white wrought-iron table.

  "Your Highness... The healer. We must go to the healer; you are bleeding..." he began uncertainly.

  "It’s a mere scratch; the bleeding has already stopped," she cut him off, deftly jumping down from his arms to the ground. "You underwent training, didn't you? You must have a handkerchief. Bind it yourself. And talk. Now."

  They sat at the small table. The palace spires were visible in the distance, but here, amidst the blooming roses, they were alone. Leon produced a clean handkerchief and, kneeling, began to carefully bandage the abrasion. His hands worked with precision, but his gaze was serious beyond his years.

  "Your Highness, I apologize for my boldness, but it is my duty to protect you," he began, tying the knot. "And not just from physical threats."

  "Go on..." Amelia urged him gently but with interest, watching his work.

  Leon finished the bandage and sat opposite her, straightening his back. There was no doubt in his bright blue eyes.

  "Your Highness, I beg you to be cautious with the Prince and his friends." He paused, weighing every word. "Lord Tristan and Lord Rowan are heirs to powerful ducal houses. From the cradle, they are taught that the end justifies the means, especially if that end is the prosperity of their family. Friendship to them is merely a tool. It can be insincere... and even dangerous."

  As he spoke, a powerful sense of déjà vu washed over Amelia. Blurry images from her past life floated to the surface: the office, the fake smiles of colleagues at corporate parties, the under-the-table intrigues for a promotion.

  Hah... I thought I’d landed in a fairytale with rainbow ponies, but it turns out I’m back in the good old office, she chuckled inwardly with bitter understanding. Just instead of the Sales Department, it’s 'Great Houses,' and instead of a quarterly bonus, it’s influence at court. The same smiles to your face, the same knives in your back...

  A cold, predatory smirk of an adult woman distorted her childish lips for a second. A hard glint of experience surfaced in her gray eyes, instantly obliterating any trace of naivety.

  ...but there is good news. I know the rules of this game better than anyone. The main thing is not to be a pawn. And the first rule of survival is to assemble your own team. People you can trust.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Amelia leaned forward, resting her elbows on the latticed tabletop.

  "I hear you," she nodded. "But before we continue... what is your full name, knight?"

  "Leon Crawford, Your Highness."

  Amelia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and measured him with an appraising gaze.

  "Leon... why do you care so much about my safety? You are a noble too. You need patronage, connections. How do I know you aren't just like them? That you aren't using me as a stepping stone for your career?"

  Leon seemed almost insulted. He straightened up as if he’d swallowed a rod.

  "I am the third son of Baron Crawford, Your Highness," he said firmly. "My lineage has neither rich lands nor influence at court. All I have is my honor and the oath I swore to you. That oath binds me to dedicate my life to you."

  "'Dedicate your life'..." Amelia tapped her finger thoughtfully on the table. "Sounds beautiful. But what does that mean in practice?"

  "It means I will protect you at the cost of my life," Leon looked at her unblinkingly. "And I will fulfill your every command. Anything you might desire."

  The cunning spark in Amelia’s eyes flared brighter. She latched onto his words like a lawyer finding a loophole in a contract.

  "'Every command'? 'Protect at the cost of your life'? And... 'fulfill any whim'?"

  "Yes, Your Highness," Leon repeated without a shadow of hesitation.

  Her eyes flashed with a mischievous, calculating fire. Amelia jumped up abruptly, climbed onto the chair with her feet, and then, in one motion, stepped onto the table. Now she stood at Leon’s eye level, looking down at the stunned squire.

  "A-ny... whim?"

  Leon, slightly shocked by such a flagrant violation of etiquette, remained seated, afraid to move.

  "Yes, Your Highness."

  Well, well, well... time to stress-test this boy, Amelia’s thoughts raced. Any servant can fetch water or hold a cloak. I need something that strikes at his templates, at his honor, to see his true reaction. Something that knocks the ground out from under his feet.

  Amelia climbed down from the standing position to sit on the edge of the table, directly in front of Leon. Her legs dangled over the seat of his chair, and her body was so close that her knees almost brushed his chest. She leaned in toward him. Her face was mere centimeters from his. She saw the pupils dilate in his blue eyes, saw the muscles in his neck tense. He was barely breathing but did not look away.

  Alright, let’s see how strong your knightly discipline is...

  Amelia leaned forward decisively.

  SMOOCH!

  It was a quick, weightless kiss right on the stunned squire's lips.

  Leon froze like a statue. His eyes flew open in paralyzing, absolute shock. A deep blush instantly flooded his cheeks, spreading to his ears and neck.

  What... what is this?.. Is this... an order?.. A test?.. A whim?.. his mind, raised on codes of honor and subordination, desperately tried to process the incoming data and returned error after error. But the oath... I promised... any whim...

  Amelia, meanwhile, hopped lightly off the table and began brushing off her dress as if nothing had happened. She glanced sideways at the still-paralyzed Leon and grinned slyly.

  "You see, Leon," she said in an instructive tone. "Whims come in many different forms. And there is only one way to fulfill them: without hesitation and without unnecessary questions. You didn't recoil. You didn't start lecturing me on propriety; you accepted it. That is commendable."

  She giggled and performed a light, mocking curtsy.

  "Stress resistance test passed, squire. Congratulations, you’re hired."

  Of course, as a bodyguard, he’s currently a 'C-minus'—too green, she concluded to herself, looking at the crimson-faced boy. But his loyalty is absolute, and his obedience is phenomenal. He isn't a rotten pawn of other clans. He is my personal instrument. The first loyal piece on my chessboard.