Praise Me: Princess (Praise Me Daily)
Praise Me: Princess: Chapter 3

I’ve been looked upon with loathing and hatred before, but never in my own home.

Commander Larsen has shadowed me since our initial meeting this morning, following me from my French lesson to fencing—which was particularly humiliating, as I am a horrific swordfighter—and he’s stared at me in brooding silence the whole time. By the time I returned to my rooms to bathe and put on my bedclothes, I felt as though I hadn’t taken a deep breath the entire afternoon.

I’m not sure what disquiets me more.

His biblical plague of a frown.

Or the softening of his expression that I notice occasionally.

And I could have sworn I heard him growling when my fencing partner put the tip of his sabre to my neck. It must have been a trick of the acoustics, because the man clearly detests me. I don’t blame him, either. He was brought here beneath the thumb of my mother when he deserves to live his life in peace, his service to the army completed. There might even be a future Mrs. Larsen out there waiting for her beloved to return, while he’s being forced to chaperone me while I overcome my fear of the outside world.

I’m going to be brave tomorrow.

I’m going to surmount my terror, if for no other reason to set him loose.

Even if I must crawl through the castle gates, I’ll do this for someone who has surely sacrificed so much for Leidenstein.

Finished letting my hair down, I draw up the neckline of my nightgown, though it immediately slips back down to leave my shoulder bare. I exit the bathroom and walk out into my bedroom, my steps slowing when the door comes into view. Commander Larsen is on the other side even now, guarding me. He plans to stay there all night, despite my assurances that he doesn’t need to do so.

Hopefully he doesn’t question my nighttime routine.

Squaring my shoulders, I cross to the other side of the room, bracing my back against my heavy dresser and pushing the piece of furniture in front of the door, wincing when the wood makes a loud scraping sound on the floor of my bedroom.

A sharp rap on the door almost causes me to slip onto my butt. “What the hell is going on in there?”

“Nothing,” I call. “Just rearranging some furniture.”

A small pause. “At ten o’clock at night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s just something I do from time to time. When I get tired of the way things look.”

“Oh, you get bored with all your luxuries.” He snorts. “Sorry, I can’t relate. I was only discharged two weeks ago. I haven’t even had a chance to buy a mattress yet.”

No one has ever hated anyone more than this man hates me. Not even the rebels. “I really can’t apologize enough for the delay in starting your new life. I promise I’m going to get you out of here tomorrow.” I get back in position, speaking through my gritted teeth while continuing to move the dresser in place in front of the door, as I do every night, to keep possible intruders out. If only it kept the nightmares away. “I actually really like my furniture. I didn’t mean to imply I was sick of it.”

“You just don’t like its location.”

“Correct.”

“You like it in front of the door, instead.”

“How can you tell it’s in front of the door?”

“Shadows, princess.”

“Oh,” I say, out of breath. “Then yes, I guess I like it there.”

His sigh almost blows the door down. “Are you blocking the door to keep me out?”

“It’s not far-fetched to think you might strangle me while I’m sleeping, considering the continual anger you’ve been directing at me since this morning, but no…” I hesitate. “Well, I guess since the cat is already out of the bag and you know that I’m a coward, there’s no use in lying. I put the dresser in front of my bed every night to feel more secure.”

Silence. “Does it work?”

“Not really.”

“Then knock it off.” I stick my tongue out at the door, then immediately feel guilty for it. He gave ten years of service to my country! I’m gearing myself up to explain that it’s just a safety crutch when the knob turns and the door begins to open, easily sliding the dresser along with it. “This isn’t stopping anyone from coming in, prin—” He stops speaking abruptly when he sees me, his eyes tracking down to my bare shoulder, along with the hair that is now loose down to my hips, a lump lifting and plummeting in his throat. “Uh. The dresser? It’s not exactly serving a purpose.”

I’m not sure where the warm shiver comes from. Maybe because I’ve never had a man in my bedroom before or maybe because Commander Larsen is undeniably handsome and robust, but suddenly there are hot prickles all the way down my spine. “I-I, yes, I see what you mean. I acknowledge it’s not an ideal barricade.”

“Furthermore, this might slow me down if I need to reach you.” He shoves the dresser two feet to the right, away from the door. “We don’t want that.”

“No.”

He shakes his head at me. “Did you steal that nightgown from a Victorian schoolmarm or something?”

“Did I…what?” I cross my arms over my middle. “This was a gift from the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.”

His brows slash downward. “Why is a duke buying you a nightgown?”

“It is a little creepy, isn’t it?” I breathe, battling a smile.

For a very brief bubble of time, the commander looks like he’s about to laugh, but the moment pops and vanishes before it starts. “Don’t put furniture in front of the door,” he snaps. Then, slightly less harsh, “Nothing gets through me. Not bullets, not acts of nature, not shrapnel or blades. I’m a wall between you and danger. You can sleep soundly.” I must look doubtful, because he raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Maybe you should let the intruders in, commander,” I whisper, dramatically. “If I die, you can go home.”

A line pops in his jaw. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

I’m suddenly so exhausted with his animosity, I take a few steps and plonk my butt down on the edge of the bed, my limbs hanging loose at my sides. “Would you mind terribly if I just go to sleep?”

Oddly enough, he now appears like he wants to stay. Or maybe he regrets being so harsh, now that I’ve been drained of my energy. He rakes a frustrated hand through his hair, opens his mouth to say something, but stomps out before his words ever materialize.

I stare at the rattling door a moment, then do what I do every night since the incident. I take out my dagger from beneath my pillow, wrap myself in a blanket and go to sleep in the closet.