Sneak Peek of Dumbstruck

Freya

In all my years of preparing to become a queen, I never thought it would be an American to stand in my way. Literally.

"Mr. Reid." My voice is laced with irritation, though it is far too early in the day for that. "Is there any particular reason you are blocking the doorway?"

Reid's expression does not shift a millimeter. As is his way, he keeps his gaze just over my head so he looks over me rather than at me. "My apologies, Your Highness, but I am following orders."

"Whose?" They certainly were not mine.

"Her Majesty has directed me to—"

"Mum," I grumble under my breath. What is she up to? Standing on my toes, I try to bring myself higher so Reid is forced to look me in the eye, but his gaze simply rises along with me. "Have you forgotten that you work for me now, Mr. Reid?"

There . The slightest twitch of his mouth, though I could hardly call it a smile. This man has been training under my old bodyguard for the last month, and I have yet to see him smile once. If I did not trust my friend Derek with all my heart, I would not have agreed to give Reid a chance as my personal protection officer based on the little I know about him. His American nationality rather than being a native Candoran is difficult enough to stomach—such a break from tradition will not sit well with the people—but if I am to endure his aloof stoicism for the unforeseeable future, I will be seeking out an alternative within the month.

Eight bodyguards in the last year. Eight failures. Eight reasons to wonder if having protection is as necessary as the Royal Council seems to think.

"With all due respect, Your Highness," Reid says to the air above my head, "my position as your protection agent doesn't go into effect until the Council Meeting this afternoon."

I wonder how he manages to show no emotion like that. I am practiced in keeping my expressions muted, but I have never fully been able to hide everything I feel. It is a sore subject for my mother, who has spent the last fifteen years as Candora's reigning monarch and is all things royal and proper.

She blames my inability to fully school my features on my attachment to Derek and the other American friends I have grown close to over the last few years. Granted, she is as attached to Derek as I am, but her argument remains.

Folding my arms, I drop back to my sensible heels, noting the way Reid's gaze dips with me. He is disciplined, I will give him that, but I require far more than discipline in a bodyguard. "You are aware that you are currently preventing me from attending that Council meeting, yes?"

He nods. "Yes, Your Highness."

Just behind him sit the large wooden doors to the conference room, where I am certain the entire Council is already gathered, along with the king and queen. While Dad possesses some influence as king, he married into the monarchy and defers to Mum on nearly every point. The only exceptions are when I am involved, which makes me hope he is unaware of my current predicament. I hate to think he knows I am being excluded.

"Why am I not allowed inside?" I ask Reid.

He tightens his jaw and says nothing.

My irritation only rises. "You have only been in my country for five weeks and are already loyal to the queen? I thought you Americans were generally more willful than this."

"Oi, best not insult the man's pride and joy," a voice says behind me. "Elliot gets touchy about his patriotism."

Rolling my eyes, I turn to greet my younger brother, though I do not know which one it is until I see him. "Hex." He and Sander, his twin, sound eerily alike, and most people cannot distinguish between the two. Even I sometimes have difficulties, though I suspect they make it difficult on purpose. Though twenty-seven years old, they have yet to mature into sensible adults.

To my surprise, Hex throws an arm around Reid's shoulder and faces me. The bodyguard hardly reacts, but there is a new light in his eyes. "My darling sister," Hex says with a condescending tone he has perfected solely for me, "surely you know better than to speak poorly of the land of the free. The home of the brave."

Reid clears his throat and ducks away from Hex's arm. He tugs on his suit to straighten it and then returns to his stiff stance, a hand locked around the other wrist in front of him and eyes on the corridor behind me. "You are supposed to be in your fencing lesson, Master Hendrik."

Hex scoffs and leans against the door behind him, arms folded and one leg crossed over the other. Sometimes I envy his ability to be casual, but I would never give up my chance to be queen and lead my people. Hex and Sander have no aims for the throne, and their carefree natures reflect that. I do not have the same luxury.

"It's no fun sparring with anyone but you," Hex says. He looks at me. "Did you know Elliot is a fencing master, Fringe?"

I narrow my eyes at the nickname, but I am more concerned with the familiarity between the man who is supposed to be my bodyguard—though not for an hour, apparently—and a prince of Candora. "I was not aware," I say slowly, studying Reid carefully. There is a tightness around his eyes, and I would guess he knows he is out of line by sparring with my brother when he is about to become one of the most important people in the country.

I am dangerously close to being late for the Council, which I may or may not be permitted to attend today, but perhaps I could use Hex's presence to learn a little more about the man before me. Heaven knows I have not had the opportunity since his arrival last month, which has frustrated me to no end. "You were a soldier, were you not, Mr. Reid?"

He stands a little taller. "Yes, Your Highness. Master Sergeant, Operations Sergeant in the 10th SFG Second Battalion."

I do not know what that means—Candora has been fortunate in avoiding wartimes for the past two generations—but I nod as if I understand. "Is fencing a common practice among the Special Forces in America?"

Another ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips. "No, ma'am."

"Then where is it you learned to—"

" Vitte , Sister," Hex says. He flinches when I glare at him for using the Candoran vulgarity. "Do you need to interrogate the man? Gregor has already spent the last month questioning him. I think you can trust he's not here to take down the monarchy."

I had not considered such a thing, but now that thought is in my head. Thank you for that, Hex . "I am not interrogating him," I argue. "I was simply curious. Considering his upcoming position, I am allowed curiosity."

For the first time since my arrival outside the conference room, Reid's eyes slip down to mine. The shock of his sudden focus hits me like the zap of a static charge, but the eye contact lasts only a moment before he is back to watching the corridor. This is the first time I have been close to the man for longer than a moment, and I am surprised by the color of his eyes. Dark amber, like the sap of our evergreen trees that grow on the inland hills. It is not a color I have seen before in someone's eyes, and the warmth of it is in direct contrast to the detached personality he seems to have.

Except with my brother, apparently. I wonder if they both have sparred with him. Sander is less enthusiastic about weaponry, but his skills nearly match those of Hex. And Master Sergeant Elliot Reid, apparently. Why have I not seen them fencing together?

Ah, yes. Because Mum has been extra diligent in my tutelage lately, which only makes my current predicament more frustrating. And confusing.

"Is there a reason you and Elliot are standing out in the corridor, Fringe?" Hex asks, finally realizing where we are. "I thought you had a fancy meeting."

"I do have a meeting," I reply, silently willing Reid to look at me again. I doubt he would be able to hold fast to his orders if he deigned to look me in the eyes when he told me I was not allowed inside the room behind him. "But Elliot will not let me in."

I hoped using his first name would draw on the camaraderie he shares with my brother. While it does gain the bodyguard's attention, pulling his eyes back to me, his stance only grows more imposing. I did not think that was possible, given his impressive size to begin with. Reid certainly has the build of a bodyguard, with shoulders broad enough to intimidate anyone who might cross him.

"I'm afraid I can't let you in, Your Highness," he says, eyes still locked on me.

Vitte, his gaze is strong. Perhaps his tendency to look above me is for the best, as I feel every second of his notice.

Swallowing, I dig deep into myself for the confidence that has been slipping for the last several minutes, ever since he first blocked my entry. "Mr. Reid, I demand that you let me pass."

He smiles.

No, that is the wrong word. It only lifts one side of his mouth, and there is no sense of kindness to the expression. It is a smirk . He is smirking at the crown princess! I am appalled by his audacity.

"My apologies, Princess," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "But I can't obey."

Hex snickers, glancing between the two of us. "Careful, El," he mutters. "You do not want to see Freya when she is angry."

"Oh, he is El now, is he?" I glare at my brother, though I cannot remember the last time I intimidated either him or Sander. Though six years my junior, they have seen too many of my blunders and childhood missteps to take me seriously. "Mr. Reid is not here to be your friend, Hex."

Hex doesn't flinch. "No, apparently he's here to keep you out of your meetings."

Reid clears his throat. "I don't mean to frustrate you, Your Highness."

I do not believe that for a second. Not when there is still a shadow of that smirk on his lips as he continues to watch me. Why is it now that he has looked at me he cannot seem to look away? The depth of his gaze is unnerving.

I am not the type of person to be unnerved.

"But really," Hex says, frowning now. "Why are you outside?"

"Apparently Her Majesty has decreed it," I grumble.

Glancing at the door, Hex lifts an eyebrow. "Mum's keeping you out?"

"She didn't tell me her reasons," Reid says.

I glare at him now. "Could you not have said as much earlier?"

Oh, that smirk is going to frustrate me to no end, and he seems to know it. I do not know whether it is Hex's influence or the fact that this is our first real conversation, but Elliot Reid seems to be coming to life as he silently laughs at my growing anger. "I figured it wouldn't help the situation," he says lightly. "Again, my apologies."

"Being sorry does not justify a wrongful action," I warn him. "And if you intend to keep your position—which you do not yet have, as you have said—then you should learn to keep your opinions to yourself, Mr. Reid."

He dips his head, so slightly that it almost feels like an insult rather than a gesture of agreement. "I will take that into consideration, Your Highness." And then he grins at me. The expression only lasts long enough for me to make note of it before he is back to standing stalwart at his post, his eyes fixed over my head.

In all the failed candidates for the position of my bodyguard, I have not once encountered insubordination like this. Although, that is not quite what this is. He is faithfully following my mother's orders, and as she outranks me, I cannot be angry with him for that. But I can be angry for his disrespect. His amusement at my expense. His… sass . The last thing I need is a bodyguard who will talk back to me and treat me like a child when he is several years my junior.

How old is he? I knew when he first arrived, but the last month has kept me too busy to remember. Twenty-six? That sounds right. When Derek first recommended the soldier to me, I nearly laughed when I saw his age. Surely he is too young, both to have so many accolades and to be trusted with my life. But Derek assured me Master Sergeant Reid was the best of the best, and I trusted his judgment. Reid's resume is, in a word, impressive, assuming it is all accurate, but I would have thought Derek recognized my need for a personality that would match mine.

Whoever becomes my protection agent in a more permanent capacity will be with me at all hours of the day. He or she will be privy to my every moment, good and bad. A snarky ex-soldier who is younger than my immature brothers and finds amusement in my frustration is likely to drive me mad before I ever ascend to the throne.

"So," Hex says, once again glancing between the two of us. "Does this mean you're stuck here and therefore not available for a quick match?"

Reid's eyes narrow. "As long as your sister wants to get into the conference room, yes. I'll be here."

I let out an unladylike groan and take several steps back, pulling my phone out of the pocket of my slacks. Hex happily starts chatting with Reid, so I hope my conversation is relatively private. Just in case, I take a few more steps down the hall as I pull up Derek's number and hit dial. If I go too far, I worry Reid will follow.

"Hey, Peach." To my relief, Derek answers. It is always a gamble with him. As one of the most sought-after actors in Hollywood, he has a lot of people eager to take his time, and it is early in California. "What's up?"

"What's up?" I repeat. "What is up is you are apparently determined to drive me to insanity."

He chuckles. "Elliot started today, didn't he?"

The fact that he so easily guesses the source of my frustration does not bode well for Reid's future career in Candora. "You knew he would get on my nerves?"

"I knew he would keep you on your toes, but that's not the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting right now?" Leave it to Derek to know my schedule as well as he knows his own.

I grip my phone a little tighter, glancing behind me to make sure Reid and Hex are still occupied with their conversation. Especially Reid. His impressive resume included the ability to speak several languages, as well as read lips. I wish I could remember which languages he speaks, as that would make this conversation easier to hide.

Turning so my back is once again facing Reid, I switch into Russian to continue my conversation. I would speak Candoran, as Derek is fluent in the language as well as several others, but I would not be surprised if Reid has picked up on enough to get by over the last month. "He has not even started as my bodyguard, and I already want to dismiss him."

After a pause—I am sure Derek is surprised by the change in language—Derek responds with near perfect Russian. "It's that bad, huh?"

"I do not think your friend has the right temperament for a protection officer, Derek Riley, and I fear I may need to begin questioning your judgment."

"You should do that anyway, Peach."

He says that, but in the seven years I have known this man, he has never once been wrong. Remembering that, I sigh and tell myself to take a calming breath. I switch back to English; Derek's Russian is better than mine, and hopefully I am done complaining. "Do you really think Reid is a good candidate?"

"Yeah, I do. But it's also not my decision on whether he stays or goes. That's on you, and he knows this is a trial run."

That is comforting, though I am sure Gregor told Reid as much when he first arrived.

As if sensing my thoughts, Derek asks, "What does Gregor think of him?"

I sigh. "This is the only one Gregor has spent more than a couple of weeks with. I think Gregor practically views him as a second son."

That gets Derek laughing, which I should have expected. Gregor likes no one, but I spoke true. My old bodyguard has had nothing but praise for the ex-soldier. "Give him some time, Freya. Like you said, he hasn't even started."

"Started as my bodyguard, no, but he has certainly begun getting on my nerves."

"He's good at that."

"How, exactly, do you know a Master Sergeant Special Forces Operations Sergeant?" I ask. Derek has a habit of collecting friends and contacts all over the world, from all walks of life and levels of fame and influence, but from what I know about Reid, he has spent the last half a decade overseas. It seems unlikely that an actor and a soldier would become close friends or even meet.

Derek hums, as if thinking about how he wants to answer that question. "I don't remember," he says after a moment.

"Lies," I reply without hesitation. He does not generally keep secrets from his friends, and I am curious why he would try now. "The truth, Riley."

"He's my cousin."

"Oh." Those words hit me with a stronger force than I expect. Perhaps it is because Derek rarely speaks of his family. I have only heard him mention his parents once or twice over the years I have known him, and I did not realize he had any relatives beyond them. "Derek, why did you not say in the beginning?"

I turn just enough to look at Reid once more, and suddenly the similarities are obvious. Perhaps that is because Reid is actually smiling. Not smirking, like he did with me, but smiling wide as Hex talks with wild hand gestures. The way his smile twists up at an angle is very much like Derek's smile. Reid's face has softer angles, but there is something in the shape of his eyes that match Derek's as well. I wonder if he comes from Derek's father's side or his mother's side, though I know better than to pry. There is no quicker way to convince Derek he needs to end a conversation than to bring up his parents.

"I don't like nepotism," Derek says after a long moment of silence. "You know how it is."

I do. While I have a birthright to the throne, Candora will hold elections two months from now in September. If the people feel I am not suitable to be their queen, they can choose someone else. In the history of Candora, the Alverra family—my family—has always held the monarchy seat, but that could easily change. If my people do not want me as their leader, I will listen to them because I do not believe one's parentage is enough to qualify them for power.

"I wish I had known," I tell Derek anyway. "If he is your family, then I am certain he is a good man."

"I hope that was never in question. But if he steps out of line, you're more than welcome to send him packing."

I snicker, allowing a smile even though I am quickly beginning to realize that this revelation will only complicate matters going forward if Reid cannot learn to fall in line. Derek may say the choice of keeping Reid is up to me, but now I will be worried about disappointing one of my dearest friends. "If he is anything like you, Derek Riley, then we are going to have a problem."

A throat clears behind me, and I startle, spinning around to find Reid standing mere inches away from me. This is the closest I have ever been to the man, and he is tall enough that my eyes are suddenly fixed on the way his arms fill the sleeves of his suit. The way the buttons on his white shirt strain with every breath he takes. Yes, he indeed has the muscular build of a competent protector.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, nodding to the phone in my hand. "You're needed in the conference room."

I blink. After the way he kept me out, I did not expect to set foot in that room today. "Oh. Really?"

He nods once. "Tell Derek I say hi."

Derek laughs. "Good luck, Peach." He hangs up before I can say anything.

Reid takes a step to the side, holding out an arm toward the now-open door of the conference room. Several pairs of eyes are looking out at me, waiting for me to join them. Hex has disappeared, which does not surprise me. He and Sander avoid politics whenever possible.

I take a deep breath and stand a little taller. "Thank you," I tell Reid, though I am not certain he deserves it. But now I am Princess Freya Alverra, heir to the Candoran throne, and I am nothing if not polite. Though he bestows me with another smirk, I hold my head high and practically march into the conference room.

My eyes land first on Dad and the way he looks uncomfortable, which does not bode well for me, but then I look at Mum and feel the weight of her gaze.

"Freya," she says in her authoritative way she uses when in her role as queen rather than my mother. "We need to talk."

I gulp. That is never a good sentence coming from a queen.