The ballroom was in chaos.
Lord Harven had been dragged away screaming, half the court whispering accusations of treason, poison, and madness. The king was furious. The queen was pale. The nobles were restless.
And I, the Sixth Princess, stood calmly at the center of it all, holding nothing but a fork and a gaze sharper than any blade.
---
That night, I wasn't thrown into the dungeon.
I was praised.
The royal physician confirmed the goblet was tainted with an ancient venom—one that causes death to mimic magical overload. Exactly like how I "collapsed" the first time. They called it an assassination attempt. A tragedy averted.
I called it round two survived.
And that meant... the game had truly begun.
---
The Next Morning
I woke up to a letter sealed with the Royal Crest.
The king had summoned me for a private audience. That in itself was unusual—sixth princesses didn't get private anything.
But what I didn't expect was to find him waiting in the throne room too.
The black-armored knight with the crimson eyes.
"Princess Seris," the king said, "meet your new bodyguard."
Oh, you've got to be kidding me.
---
He bowed stiffly. "Sir Kael Varent of the Crimson Flame. I serve at His Majesty's command."
Crimson Flame? That wasn't just a name. That was a title.
Only one knight per generation earned it—a magic wielder capable of controlling pure elemental fire with their soul.
Fire and water.
This was going to be fun.
---
Later
We walked through the marble corridors of the palace in silence. I could feel his eyes on me—studying me, like I was a puzzle he didn't trust.
I broke the silence first.
"So, Sir Kael. Are you here to protect me from the next cup of poison, or stab me before someone else does?"
He didn't react. "I don't stab princesses."
"Just nobles?"
He stopped walking. "I don't like liars."
I tilted my head. "That makes two of us."
---
We ended up in the training courtyard. I hadn't touched a blade since arriving in this world, but my hands still remembered the weight, the balance, the rhythm of violence.
"Do you fence, Princess?" Kael asked, handing me a practice sword.
I spun it once in my hand, tested the grip, and grinned.
"I do more than fence."
---
The Spar
It started slow. Formal. He circled me like a hawk; I mirrored him like a shadow.
Then he struck.
Steel met steel.
Sparks flew.
The clash of magic-infused swords echoed across the courtyard.
He was good. Too good for a knight his age. His fire magic ignited at his wrists, giving him bursts of acceleration and flame-kissed strikes. But I was an assassin in a princess's skin. I didn't fight fair.
I ducked, slid between his legs, and flicked the tip of my blade up to his throat.
He froze.
His eyes widened.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice low.
I stepped back, sheathing the sword.
"Just a princess who doesn't like dying."
---