The Duchess (GxG)

VI

I didn't take it seriously. Not until Reya cornered me near a mock stairwell and grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

"Stop," she hissed. Her voice was low, dangerous. "You're dead. You just ran straight into a blind corner. No cover. No backup. If this were real, you'd be bleeding out on the floor right now."

I froze, surprised by her tone. Her eyes were like ice. "It's just a simulation," I said.

"That's not the point," she said sharply, letting go of my arm. "You're the future Queen of Lysvenia. Your life is not a game. And it's not just your life on the line—it's everyone else's who tries to protect you."

That... landed. There was something behind her eyes for a second—something raw, and human, and almost pained—but it disappeared so quickly I thought I imagined it. She straightened her posture and stepped back.

I didn't say anything. I just nodded. And the second round of the simulation, I took seriously.

I moved slower, listened to instructions, remembered the safe paths she outlined earlier. And this time, I reached the safe room without getting "shot."

The gardens were brighter when we stepped back outside, but the air felt heavier somehow — laced with the silence that had settled between us like a fog. I didn't speak until we reached a wrought iron bench beneath one of the sprawling white-blossomed trees.

"I'm sorry," I said, finally.

She sat beside me but didn't turn to look at me.

"I know it wasn't funny. I wasn't trying to... I mean, I know it matters. I just—" I paused. "I've never had to take this stuff seriously before. No one's ever treated me like I was actually important enough to protect."

Reya still didn't speak. But the tension in her shoulders eased, just a little.

The garden shimmered around us — the soft hum of bees in lavender hedges, the rustle of leaves in the morning breeze, the faint smell of jasmine floating on the air.

Finally, she said, "You are important enough to protect."

I looked over.

She was still facing forward. But something was different. Her profile didn't seem so carved from stone now. Something warmer flickered there, deep under the surface.

There was silence between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. She turned to look at me then, and for the briefest moment, there was something in her expression that made my chest tighten. A flicker of trust? Or maybe it was history—something bruised and half-hidden.

But it passed. And just like that, her walls were up again.

She stood. "You did better the second time."

It wasn't much. But it was something.

And somehow, that made me want to impress her even more.

---

The late afternoon sun filtered lazily through the windows of the sitting room, casting soft golden hues on the pale cream walls. I sat comfortably in the living room, curled into one of the armchairs, the fabric worn just enough to be familiar. A porcelain teacup rested in my hands, untouched and cooling. Across from me, Verena — always polished, always composed — sat with her clipboard balanced delicately on her knee. Her eyes scanned the page as she rattled off the details of my next royal obligation.

"A charity gala hosted by the House of Merovin," she said crisply, her voice calm but efficient. "It'll be held at their estate on the southern edge of the capital. You'll arrive at precisely three-fifteen. Press will be present, as well as several of the lesser nobility. It's considered an important event in the seasonal calendar, so many eyes will be on you."