The first week after King Adrian took the crown, he ordered me to sit beside him at dinner, stay within arm's reach during council, and lean against his shoulder when the palace cameras were off. I had spent my whole life guarding him, so I knew how to obey without asking questions. I also knew what it meant when the chancellor began documenting those orders as evidence that Adrian could not govern. If the council declared him unfit, the crown would pass to a man who had already tried to make me disappear. Adrian's requests might have been the only honest things he had ever asked of me. They might also have been a trap neither of us could afford. When duty and the person I loved demanded the same impossible choice, which one would I betray?