He Fell for the Wrong Bride

Chapter 5 The Best Comfort

"Karl. Security at the palace," he said, pulling out his gun. He spun it skillfully around his finger before holding the handle out to me. "Earlier, I was just doing my job. Now you don't have to worry about my intentions."

"Thank you, but that's not what I meant," I replied, shaking my head and refusing to take the gun. "It's just... I can't let anyone see me with you. They'd twist the story into something scandalous. It wouldn't do either of us any good."

"Are you always this cautious?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Only since I came to Luthshir..." Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over despite my best efforts.

Karl pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped them away.

"You don't need to worry when you're with me. No one will dare to make assumptions," he said reassuringly.

"Why? Are you gay?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Uh... yes. I don't sleep with women. Everyone knows that," he answered, his tone almost reluctant.

Something about his admission felt a little forced, but with a physique like his, being gay didn't seem all that surprising.

I leaned my full weight against him, exhaling deeply.

"That's honestly the best news I've heard all year."

Karl shook his head with a faint smile and scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing.

Resting against his broad shoulder, I felt a sense of peace I hadn't experienced in ages.

He carried me into a glass-domed conservatory filled with lush plants, most of which I couldn't name.

One stood out—a single plant enclosed by a barrier, its lance-shaped leaves cradling a large, lantern-like bud. It seemed unremarkable compared to the others.

Next to the plant was a chaise lounge, where Karl carefully set me down. Under the dim lighting, he knelt to examine my injured ankle.

This was my first real chance to study his face up close.

He looked to be in his early forties, with a strong jawline accentuated by a short beard and a pronounced cleft in his chin. His close-set eyes and sharply defined brow gave him an intense, almost severe appearance, softened by the natural curve of his M-shaped lips.

If the king looked like this, I'd marry him without hesitation. Waking up to a face like this every morning would guarantee a lifetime of good moods.

"Flex your ankle and point your toes," Karl instructed, his breath warm against my foot.

His hands were large and broad, yet his long fingers moved with the precision of a pianist.

Despite knowing he wasn't into women, I couldn't stop myself from feeling a little flustered. I instinctively pulled my foot back, but the movement sent a sharp pain shooting through it.

"The way you're reacting, it's not a bad sprain. Now the other ankle—there's some minor abrasions since you weren't wearing shoes," he noted, his tone both attentive and clinical.

This man was annoyingly perfect.

From his lightning-quick reflexes to his strikingly handsome face, every detail was flawless. If he looked this good with clothes on, what was hidden underneath must be even better.

Just having someone like that around would have brightened anyone's mood.

A bold idea struck me. Why couldn't he be my personal bodyguard?

After all, I was the future queen—it wasn't unreasonable to assign myself a bodyguard.

Karl would certainly distract those cold, spiteful women who seemed to delight in making my life miserable.

They looked like the type who spent their evenings soaking in a tub while reading Fifty Shades of Grey.

If Karl walked around in that leather shoulder holster of his, they'd probably forget all about me.

"Karl, would you consider working for me? As my personal bodyguard?" I asked impulsively.

"No," he said flatly, not even looking up.

"Why not? I could pay you double, and I'd promise no night shifts—ouch!"

He pressed his thumb against my arch, sending a wave of searing pain through my foot.

"With a wound this deep, you must've stepped on a sharp rock," he said, ignoring my protests as he rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"If I worked for you, I'd probably end up on night shifts every day," he muttered.

"You don't trust me? We could sign a contract," I offered, trying to sound convincing.

"Do you even know what time it is right now?"

Before I could answer, he reached around me, his arm brushing my back, and tapped the face of his ornate wristwatch. The hands pointed to 1:30 AM.

'Great. What kind of employer keeps someone working until the middle of the night?' I thought guiltily.

"This was an unusual situation—"

I didn't get to finish. The peroxide stung like molten lava against my skin, and the pain left me momentarily speechless.

"A barefoot princess wandering around in the dead of night? You're lucky it wasn't a sniper who found you," he said matter-of-factly.

A sniper? Just how unpopular was this king that the palace needed such extreme precautions?

My gaze drifted to a faint red mark on Karl's arm.

Guilt bubbled up as I asked, "Do you need to take care of that? I think I bit you pretty hard earlier."

"If I were really a bad guy, that bite would've just excited me more," he replied with a resigned sigh.

Karl grabbed an ice pack from a minibar and wrapped it in a towel before placing it on my ankle.

The cold sensation instantly soothed the swelling, drawing a muffled groan of relief from me. I relaxed, letting my other leg drape across his lap.

"If there were real intruders in the palace, the king would have you executed," I said, teasing.

"Yeah, he will, thanks to you. You need some protection. Maybe Pablo can teach you how to shoot," he shot back. "I just... heard you shout his name. Who is he to you?"

'Oh, my poor Pablo. I almost forgot,' I thought, heart sinking again

'He can't talk or defend himself. What if he runs into a sniper?'

"What's wrong? You look pale," Karl asked.

"Have you seen a long-haired golden chinchilla cat? That's Pablo," I said quickly.

"A cat? So you came out here barefoot in the middle of the night just to find a cat? Don't you have maids for that?" Karl frowned, clearly exasperated.

"They're the ones who threw him out," I said bitterly.

As the weight of everything I'd endured in Luthshir pressed down on me, the words spilled out. I told him everything, every injustice and humiliation.

I wasn't sure why, but Karl's quiet patience made me want to trust him.

"Your cat's not a runner—it can't have gone far. Trust me, we'll find it, and the person who threw it out will face consequences," he said firmly, taking my hand and pulling me against his shoulder.

His broad chest was the best comfort I'd felt in days.

But that was all it was—comfort.

"Natasha's a royal official. What can I possibly do?" I asked.

Karl paused, his expression thoughtful. "You can't blame Natasha entirely. This is on the king."

I froze, a fresh wave of anger and despair washing over me.

"You're saying he told her to do this to me?"