The Rejected Wolf Princess

The Vow

Evie’s POV

When we reach my room, the next obstacle rears its ugly head: the sleeping arrangements.

Like I mentioned earlier, Ty always sleeps in the room next to mine. It’s fairly standard for a royal bodyguard, but apparently no one told the Gibbouses, who arranged to host him in an entirely different part of the castle.

“That room is occupied already,” Tristan tells Ty impatiently. “This is a ladies’ wing. My aunt sleeps there.”

“Then you’d better wake her up,” Ty says evenly, “because tonight, I’m sleeping there.”

I’m really not sure what to do here. On the one hand, it’s a small comfort for me to know that it’s a ladies’ wing, meaning none of the gawking Gibbous brothers will be paying me unwanted visits during the night—not that I really thought they would. Even still, I don’t like the thought of Ty sleeping in another part of the castle.

“Is there a free room near the one you set aside for Ty?” I ask Tristan. “I don’t mind if it isn’t up to the usual standards or—”

“Princess.” Tristan sounds quite annoyed at this point. “That’s a servants’ wing. You belong here, with the nobles.”

They were going to put Ty with the servants?

“Kick out the aunt,” Ty tells Tristan coolly, “or I’m sleeping in the princess’ room.”

My mouth falls open at that. He isn’t serious, is he? It would certainly be damaging to my reputation, and I’m sure we’d both receive quite the talking-to from my parents in the morning. Then again, the Gibbouses would, too, for refusing to allow Ty to take the room next-door to me. And if any man has the right to sleep in the same quarters as an unmarried woman, it’s her bodyguard.

Tristan glares daggers at Ty for several seconds before finally grunting, “Fine. Princess, go on and get settled in. I’ll speak with my aunt now.”

“Excellent choice, lordling,” says an all-too-smug Ty.

I really wish he’d stop using that insulting nickname. “Lordling” is an endearing term when used for young, future lords, but Tristan is a grown man. Calling him that is crossing a line.

I’m too exhausted to get into it, though, so instead I do as Tristan suggested and, with a polite goodnight to him, slip into my room.

It’s strange to “settle in” without Marisa there to help me undress. I find myself struggling more than I expected to undo the laces of my gown and step out of it. All the while, I think about Ty’s attitude problem.

We’ll find you a new protector when we get married, Tristan said to me in the garden. If Ty keeps this up, how will I manage to convince Tristan to change his mind?

It easily takes me twenty minutes to get the gown off—partly because I’m so blind with rage and frustration towards the situation with Ty. Through the walls, I hear the sound of the door next-door opening, polite pleasantries, and then the footsteps of what I assume is Tristan and his aunt stepping down the hall. The door closes again, and I hear new footsteps inside the room—Ty getting settled in, no doubt.

I open the wardrobe, searching for something to wear. I don’t have the patience to remove the Choker, so I pull out a nightgown and pull it on over the corset. I step to my door, open it as quietly as I can, and peer out into the hallway. There are two guards standing at the far end of the hall, but they’re facing away from me, toward the only entrance from the rest of the castle. There to protect the women inside from the men outside, no doubt. They didn’t hear me open the door.

I close the door quietly behind me, creep over to Ty’s room, and give it a soft knock. He opens it rather brashly, probably assuming it’s Tristan back to pick another fight. When he sees that it’s me, his expression morphs to one of confusion, then concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” I say flatly, shoving my way past him and into his room.

His eyes widen into further concern, and he darts out of the room to check the hallway, just as I did. Seeing that the coast is clear, he shuts the door, then rounds on me with a wild look in his dark blue eyes. “What the Sun’s Hell are you thinking, Evie? You can’t just barge into my room at this hour.”

He’s shirtless, I note with annoyance. I haven’t seen Ty shirtless since we were kids, and he’s certainly grown since then. I always knew he was muscular, but the strength of his rippling muscles is even more jaw-dropping than I anticipated.

“I need to talk to you,” I repeat, crossing my arms. “You can’t keep antagonizing Tristan like that, Ty. He’s going to be my husband soon, and—”

Ty groans, pushing past me toward the wardrobe, where he pulls out a nightshirt of his own and pulls it over his head.

Good. Now there won’t be any distractions. Except maybe the way his shirt mussed his long, dark hair, rendering it endearingly messy…

I groan internally.

“I had every right to insist on sleeping here, Evie,” Ty says. “It’s my job to protect you, and I can’t do that from the other side of the castle.”

“I know, but you didn’t have to call him ‘lordling.’ That’s twice tonight you did that. He’s already saying he’s going to find a way to replace you. He—”

“Does your father really insist that I stay with you?”

I blink, taken aback by his question. “What?”

“That’s what you told him—that your father insists I remain your protector. Is that true?”

He was listening to that? He must have better hearing than the average wolf, on top of being stronger. “Well… no.”

A faint trace of a smirk teases at his mouth. “So it’s you, then.”

I glare at him. “It’s the fact that you’re good at your job, Ty. Don’t read so much into it.”

His gaze drops down toward my body, making me suddenly very aware of how little I’m wearing. “Interesting choice of outfit, Evie.”

Is he making fun of me again?

Why does it make me feel the funny sensations when he looks at me like that? Those sensations are supposed to be reserved for Tristan.

“It’s all they had in the wardrobe,” I say impatiently. “Ty—”

“You usually only wear that corset for Prince Charming. Should I be flattered?”

He pays attention to which days I wear the Choker?

I’m beet red at this point. “I didn’t have time to take it off. You’re really missing the point here, Ty. If you want to remain my protector—”

He takes a step toward me so quickly, my breath catches in my throat. For an instant, I think he means to grab me—though what he’d do next, I have no idea.

He doesn’t, though. Instead he says in a dark, confident voice, “I will remain your protector, Evie. I made a vow to the Moon Gods, and that may not mean much to your father or Tristan, but it sure as Sun’s Hell means something to me.”

He’s referring to the vow he made the day he was sworn in as my bodyguard—the vow to the Moon Gods that he would protect me from that day forward, without fail, even if it meant giving his own life. Pretty standard stuff; I had almost forgotten it.

Apparently he hasn’t.

His words bring me more comfort than they probably should, but they also don’t make complete sense to me. How can he continue to protect me if my future husband won’t allow it? Does he have some sort of master plan, or is he just stubborn?

“Just… take it easy with him,” I say. My voice is shaky. My heart is pounding. I wish I hadn’t worn this outfit, but I’m also strangely glad I did. Strange sensations… “It would all be a lot easier if we just got along.”

“The day I get along with Tristan Gibbous is the day the Sun’s Hell freezes over,” he says with a chuckle. “But I’ll try to do better if it pleases the Miracle Princess. Now, I strongly suggest that you retire to your chambers before I’m forced to continue observing just how much of a lady you’ve become.”