The Royal Guard Read online

  Captain Di Stefano stormed out of the room. All Marisa could think about was being perfect as he passed. Perfect enough to be picked to go to America as a personal guard. Something fluttered low in her gut as he stormed past her. His strides were slightly longer than normal and hit the marble with such force, Marisa was surprised he didn’t crack it. It was possible that he truly hadn’t noticed her as he passed. She’d never seen him in such a foul mood.

  As she watched him stomp off, a plan formulated in her mind. She was the first one of the guard to know about this new opportunity—it would be her advantage. She’d go to him as soon as her shift was over and make her case for promotion. Best in the standings, and first to the punch, there was no way she was going to be passed over for this promotion.

  She replayed the whole encounter over and over in her mind until the palace doctor came hustling down the hall, his black bag swinging by his side, muttering to himself as he approached. “How the queen suffered a monkey bite while in a locked room, I’ll never know.” Although her nose flared slightly, she didn’t even have to bite on the insides of her cheeks today to keep from smiling. Every time he came to the women’s chamber, he made a point of doing or saying something he hoped would make her break her form. “Maybe next time,” he said with a chuckle. “You certainly are good at this.”

  Inside she was smiling. She hoped one day to be able to really talk to this guy. She bet he was interesting. She moved the staff, and he knocked. Only after he went in, did she let out a little chuckle about the monkey. Her day had certainly turned around—she could allow herself a little laugh.

  2

  As soon as she finished her shift and changed into her civilian clothes, she went straight to the captain’s office, hoping against hope that he would be there. When she arrived, she took a deep breath to calm herself, then knocked on his closed office door.

  “Come in.”

  She let out a long breath of relief, straightened the collar of her white button-up, and turned the knob.

  The captain was studying a pile of papers on his desk—a quick glance told Marisa they were security plans for the upcoming centennial celebration. The queen’s cousin, Ottavio Mondadori, the princeps of Aligard, would be arriving in just a few days to commemorate a peace treaty signed a hundred years ago. Marisa struggled to remember the significance of the visit. She’d learned about Aligard in school of course; it was a small county within Monterra’s borders, but there had once been some sort of conflict between the governing family of Aligard and the Monterran royal family. Something to do with ownership of some mines or something trivial like that. She couldn’t remember. She’d always hated history. She quelled the urge to fidget and waited with artificial patience for the captain to finish.

  Finally, the captain looked up. He blinked once in what may have been surprise, but his face showed only composure. “Donati. Please come in. Have a seat.” His hazel eyes held hers briefly before he returned to studying the papers on his desk.

  She sat down across from him, holding her back straight. She began to speak in a confident voice, “Sir, I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point. I know you’ll be increasing Prince Dante and Prince Rafael’s personal guard detail for their trip to America, and I believe I should be on that detail.”

  That got his attention. His eyes shifted from the papers to her face, piercing her with a level of scrutiny even her army general father had not managed. She held his gaze and beat down the impulse to blush. She knew she deserved this position, and she wouldn’t be intimidated into showing weakness or lack of confidence.

  The captain’s eye twitched slightly, and he leaned back in his chair. “After just eleven months in the castle guard, you think you’re ready for a spot on the personal guard?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s not that unusual—others have been promoted after spending less time on the castle guard. Others whose performance has not been as exemplary as mine.”

  “Is that so? And what has been so exemplary about your performance?” His tone was slightly mocking, and Marisa was taken aback.

  “Haven’t you seen—” she began, heat rising through her chest. She checked herself and continued, slightly calmer. “I’ve been the best in every training the entire eleven months I’ve been on the guard. No one has ever beaten me at sparring—”

  “And no one has ever asked to join your team for the exercises, either.”

  Marisa opened her mouth to argue, but that was the truth. She had given up asking the other guards to join her in the simulations—no one ever accepted her offer, and no one ever offered for her to join their team. “That’s not my fault.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Marisa’s heart pounded with mingled anger and dread. This was not going at all how she had planned. “Sir, I don’t see how this is relevant.”

  “No, you don’t. And that’s why it’s not likely you’ll be getting this promotion.”

  Marisa gaped at him. “What? That isn’t right! I’ve worked harder than anybody else!”

  “Maybe so. But perhaps you haven’t been working on all the right things.”

  “I am the best guard you have, and you know it.”

  “I’m not saying you aren’t good at your job. You’ve done very well and have proven yourself a competent guard. I just don’t think you’re personal guard material, yet.”

  His attempt to placate her filled her with rage. Without even thinking, she pushed out of her seat and whirled toward the door.

  “Donati,” the captain’s voice raised just slightly, though his tone was still even and calm. “You haven’t been dismissed.”

  She froze. Every impulse in her screamed for her to storm out, or better yet—punch something. But she managed to take one deep breath and turn slowly back to the captain.

  “You don’t seem to realize the importance of team cohesion. Your current position doesn’t demand it. As a castle guard protecting the women’s chambers, you don’t need to worry about working with others. Your, as you put it, exemplary skills are enough to carry you. So, if you are content to stand guard at the women’s chambers—a good position, and an honor as well—then continue on the path you are on. But if you are hoping to join the personal guard, there are improvements you could make.”

  Through clenched teeth, Marisa managed to ask, “And what would those be?”

  “The personal guard must work as a unit—with implicit trust and near wordless communication. If your teammates don’t respect and depend on you, you can never be an effective personal guard.”

  “So what are you saying? I’m not popular enough to be a personal guard?” Marisa fought to keep the sneer off her face.

  “I’m saying you need to try harder to win the confidence of your teammates. Show me that you can be a team player, a leader even.”

  A million arguments filled her mind—she’d given her teammates no reason to dislike her, her skill and hard work should be enough to earn their respect, she had done everything in her power already to be a team player, it was the other guardsmen with the problem, not her. She opened her mouth to argue, but the captain had already turned his attention back to his desk.

  “Dismissed, Donati.”

  ***

  Barely able to contain her fury, Marisa stalked through the servants’ quarters and out of the castle. She scanned her keycard and the door lock clicked open. She yanked the door harder than she’d intended and her knuckles slammed into the rock wall. She sucked on the stinging bloody rash and stomped to her car.

  Once in the driver’s seat, Marisa let the anger she’d been holding back course through her. She pounded the dashboard and let out a guttural scream of frustration. She’d worked so hard—only to get to this point and be told she couldn’t advance because she wasn’t one of the guys. That was basically what the captain had said—the boys didn’t want to play with her, so obviously she couldn’t be trusted to do her job. She screamed again. It filled her head with heat, but she needed
the catharsis.

  Finally, exhausted and frustrated, she jammed the key into the ignition and turned it. Soothing piano music filtered out of the speakers, and Marisa sighed and slumped back in her seat. The music surrounded her and took the edge off of her fury. She took a deep breath, her fingers playing the notes on the steering wheel as if it were a grand piano. She closed her eyes and played to the end of the song before pulling out of her space and driving out of the parking lot and onto the long main U drive of the castle of Monterra. Her eyes shifted to the grassy field to her left, where a section of the army was practicing drills for the upcoming centennial celebration. She tried to make out her brothers or her dad, but they were too far away.

  She marveled at the precision of their movements, the beauty of their formations, and for the slightest of moments she wondered if her dad had been right when he told her she’d never be happy in the royal guard. He’d always wanted her to join him and the rest of her family in the Monterran army. She shook her head. That wasn’t the life she wanted.

  She drove to the gate and waved at Carlo as he came out of the guard shack. She rolled the passenger side window down, and Carlo leaned in, his cap barely clearing the upper edge of the opening, his shiny gold cuff buttons gleaming in the blazing sun coming in from the front window.

  He smiled and waggled his bushy brown eyebrows. “So what happened? You’ll tell me everything that tripped you up, right? I need some pointers for my turn tomorrow.”

  “You wish.” She scowled. It felt a little surreal to think she’d been so upset about the stupid fight after the trainings this morning, considering what just happened in the captain’s office.

  “Went that well, huh?” He clasped his strong hands.

  “The exercise was easy. It was after the fact that sucked.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d asked for a promotion and been flatly denied. It was too humiliating.

  Carlo nodded, his blue cap hitting the roof as he did. “What did they do this time?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, the pain in her left shoulder telling her otherwise. It had already started to turn gray. She was glad he couldn’t see it. “Captain wants me to find a way to fit in.” She fought not to roll her eyes.

  Carlo nodded sympathetically. “I know it sucks. But you know—it wouldn’t hurt for you to show up at the club more often. I’m sure if the guys had a chance to get to know you…”

  She gaped at him. “What? You think if I go invade their guy space, they’ll stop feeling threatened by a woman?”

  “No. They will see how eccezionale you are. No one cares that you’re a woman.”

  “That’s why they were puckering up behind the captain’s back as he chastised me, huh?”

  “They’re guys. No one ever said they were smart. A car’s coming. I’ll open the gate for you. Come tomorrow night. Drinking and hanging out with the guys will do you some good and show the captain a bit of good will on your part.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Come.” He tilted his head and gave her a firm look.

  “I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

  “That’s something, at least.”

  3

  She was on edge as she left the castle the next day. The thought of trying to play buddy-buddy irked her all throughout her shift guarding the women’s chambers. She didn’t like going to the club. She also wondered out of all the places they could meet, why was it always Murazzi’s? It had nothing to do with location. It was across town, nearer the mines than the resorts and closer to her apartment than to the castle, but it didn’t stop anyone from going. It was dark with heavy wood and smelled heavily of old smoke. The dance floor was too small, and there was never a live band. The bartenders were more grumpy than hospitable, and the place could use a sound cleaning. She’d decided it had to do with tradition and habit. If the royal guard were ever disbanded for a new organization with all new people, the meeting place would never end up being Murazzi’s.

  On top of all her complaints was the company. While the guardsmen were never kind to her, they tended to be worse at the club. While they knew she could kick any of their butts, they didn’t want her to know they were threatened by her, which often made them into raving idiots once they had a few beers in them.

  Still, she’d come this far. Even if what the captain was asking of her was unfair, she wasn’t about to give up now. She’d proven herself the best at sparring and at simulations, and she would prove herself the best at camaraderie, too, if that’s what it took.

  By the time she got home, all she wanted to do was curl up on the couch and drink something hot while she read a book, but that was out. Important stuff was happening, and she intended to capitalize on it. She went into her room and changed.

  Marisa wanted to wear her new jean skirt, but knew if she dressed too much like a girl, she wouldn’t be taken seriously by the guys. If she needed to fit in with the boys, she should probably dress like them. A fitted T-shirt and jeans would be perfect. She added high heels, red. Sexy, but respectable. She wasn’t going to deny every aspect of her femininity. She liked being a girl, and she wasn’t about to hide it. She let her hair down and brushed it until it shined. After a few spritzes of her favorite cologne, she left her apartment.

  She steeled herself for the derogatory comments and incidental touching and grabbing she was sure to find at the club as she walked the several blocks there. She only needed to show the captain that she could be part of the team. She could handle this.

  She walked in and felt eyes immediately fall on her. She made sure to make an appearance once or twice a month, but that was all she could take. It kept her in the loop. That was all she needed. She spotted several of the castle guard mixed in with the locals. Vadik with his always unkempt blond hair and Yale with his enormous buggy blue eyes stood at the bar talking to a pretty bartender. A good twenty guardsmen were scattered about, but she couldn’t see Carlo, and her shoulders hunched slightly. She should have called him and coordinated their arrivals. Laterza, Corna, and Abelli sat with the captain, beers in their hands. This was no surprise. They were major suckups. Captain Di Stefano did not look like a man with important decisions hanging over him. He smiled, and she couldn’t help but admit that he was handsome.

  She blushed a little at the thought. The man had just seriously insulted her—he’d called her competent, of all things—and here she was contemplating his handsomeness? It was probably just because he was off limits. Not only was he her superior officer, but it was well known that the captain of the royal guard was not allowed any serious relationship. It would interfere with his ability to protect the royal family.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Barsetti said, appearing with a drink in hand. Marisa fought the urge to scowl at him. The captain was watching. “Hard day listening to those women cackle? Thought you’d grace us with your presence, huh?”

  “Ha. Ha.” She smiled tersely. She bit back the urge to rake him over the coals for calling the queen a ‘cackling woman.’ The captain wanted her to play nice.

  “That’s right. You’re one of them.” A new song blared through the speakers.

  She pushed past him and made her way to the captain’s table. Since Carlo wasn’t there, she’d just go full throttle forward. Smile. Be nice. Keep your temper in check, she told herself. You can do this. It’s only a few hours.

  All four sets of eyes watched her approach, their eyes traveling over her body, inspecting her. She forced herself not to grimace and say something harsh to them. No, today she was going to show the captain that she could fit in, no matter how hard it was going to be. She pulled out a chair next to Laterza and took a seat. The captain raised his arm and a surly, but pretty waitress came right over.

  “Thanks,” Marisa said to the captain, then placed her order with the waitress.

  She turned to Laterza. “Taking any vacation time this fall?”

  He shook his head and said nothing. This was not going to be easy. “I w
as thinking about taking some in January or something to hit some beaches—you know, to get away from the cold. Maybe even Florida.”

  “You want to go to America when you could stay here and ski the best snow and slopes in the world? That’s crazy if you ask me.” Laterza snorted. “No. I’ll be hanging at our ski resorts for my vacation.”

  “I can ski anytime. I want to travel, see new things.”

  Laterza only shook his head and took another drink, silence settling over the table. She was determined not to be discouraged and turned to Corna. “What about you? You the traveling type?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?” She tried to sound innocent.

  “Every time you come into this place you sit with Carlo and don’t bother to talk to any of us.”

  “Maybe I want that to change.” Although her gut churned, she didn’t squirm in her seat. She could feel the captain’s eyes on her. She would not blow this.

  Abelli rolled his eyes and said, “Haven’t you already been here your requisite two times this month? I don’t think you’ve ever been here more than that.”

  It was true. The end of July was in a few days, and she had already been twice. She bit the inside of her cheek to help her not lash out. “Like I said, I’m changing things up.”

  Both Corna and Abelli sat back, the front two feet of their chairs rising into the air. She figured they were holding back and not saying what they wanted to because the captain was right there.

  “So, no traveling vacations for any of you?”

  “I may be heading over to Italy for a few days,” the captain said, his eyes down and pretending to pick some lint from his sleeve. He would never have lint on his sleeve. Was he trying to help her out? His eyes met hers for a split second before he turned to Laterza. “She has a point. You can ski anytime. Ever been to a beach?”

  “Sure. When I was a kid, my family used to go each year,” Laterza said.

  His eyes fell on Corna and then Abelli.