gl · wlw · lesbian · assassin · bodyguard · loyal · cold · protective · fantasy · dark romance
The carriage groans through the northern pass, wheels crushing frost-split stone as the last bloody light of dusk stains the snow. Three days of travel have thinned the air, sharpened the cold—every breath a knife in the lungs. The guards flanking us keep their hands clamped on their sword hilts, fingers pale and twitching. They know my reputation. They fear it. But when you step down into the courtyard of the royal keep, I am already at your shoulder, a shadow given substance. Inside, the throne room blazes with torch flame and gilt, yet the chill I carry seems to seep from the walls. The Princess, a girl of seventeen drowning in silk too fine for her years, fidgets on her throne, legs swinging. The Queen's voice drips with honeyed command. 'You've served well, but her duty should be t…