The Guard

By Gabriella Neveau

At fourteen years old, Rosalinda Archer left her Colorado home to guard the royal monarchy of England. Upon her arrival, she clashed with Nicholas, the obnoxious crown prince. Three years later, Nicholas verbally spars with Rosalinda daily, which is only encouraged when his mother forces Rosalinda to guard him. What happens when harsh feelings soften and a plot to ruin the royal monarchy surfaces?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638812173

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The Guard

Gabriella Neveau

Copyright © 2021 Gabriella Neveau

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-63881-216-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63881-217-3 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

You know who you are. Love ya!

Prologue

Rosalinda

Do you have everything? Make sure you write every day, you hear me? Be careful—on the plane and when fighting. Oh, we’ll miss you so much! my mom said, almost all in the same breath.

Mom, Mom, I said, holding my hands up in a slowdown motion. "Look—I’m just going to England. I’ll come back whenever I can, and you guys can come over whenever. Not forever, like I know you heard, but whenever."

I love you, honey, but I don’t think I’ll miss your snarkiness, she teased, wiping a tear from her cheek.

I rolled my eyes, thinking of a snarky retort, when I realized that’s what she wanted. I scowled at her, and she laughed, gripping me in a tight hug. Then suddenly, I was surrounded by my whole family; squeaking, I resisted briefly before joining in on the seven-brother-and-parents hug.

After a few moments, I said, All right, off. They didn’t answer, so I said it again, but more forcefully; they listened that time.

A few minutes later, I had all my bags and was starting to run late for my plane, so Mom loaded everyone up in the cars and headed for the airport.

Thirty nerve-wracking minutes later, I was sprinting for my plane. All my brothers stopped me.

You haven’t said goodbye to us yet, Lady Hooligan, my oldest brother, Michael, teased good-naturedly. I could see the tears hidden behind his light-blue eyes.

"Well, I apologize, Lady—er, Sir Hooligan," I replied in kind, hugging him back.

Oh, ha ha, he said dryly as I turned to my other six brothers.

I hugged them all tightly, proceeding from oldest to youngest, starting with Michael, who was twenty. My siblings and I were all a year apart, aside from the twins: Michael, Sam, Will, Jorden, Jason, Liam, David. Liam and David were the twins, also the youngest boys. I was the youngest at fourteen.

Then I dashed for the gate, accompanied by the airline escort my parents had hired; this was going to be a long flight.

I climbed off the plane and walked toward the bag reclaim, giving my goodbyes to the escort. My bag was just passing, and I lunged for it, managing to just barely grab the handle.

I wandered toward the front of the airport, people-watching. The airport was like the one at home, just bigger. The white floor tile and white walls were nearly blinding in their brightness, the space opened into a large room with multiple layers. I felt more than a little exposed as harried commuters rushed past me. My eyes caught on a large window, exposing brilliantly green trees and lush shrubbery and dark asphalt. It felt shocking, next to the plains Denver International Airport was surrounded by.

Most of the people had signs with names on them. I paused when I saw mine, written in big fancy script: Miss Rosalinda Archer.

The guy holding the sign had mousy, graying brown hair and brown eyes. He had a muscular build yet was short. As he shifted, he straightened his fancy black suit and shuffled his shiny black shoes.

I walked over to the guy holding the sign and demanded, Why do you have my name?

You’re Miss Archer? the man inquired. His voice, no different from the ones around, was strange with its soft r and o sounds.

I nodded warily.

I’m Edward Cugat, the royal family’s chauffeur. I believe both your mother and Her Majesty told you of me, he said kindly, eyes sparkling.

I raised my eyebrows slightly, saying, Really? Well, it’s nice to meet you. Now that I had context, I recognized him from the photo my mom had shown me.

The pleasure is mine, my dear. I’m here to take you to the castle. Shall we go?

I nodded and followed him as he pushed his way through the crowd to reach the front of the airport.

Nicholas

Prince Nicholas? I heard a knock at the door as I stood at my floor-to-ceiling window, watching a girl climb out of the personal limousine Edward drove. From what I could see, which was the top of her head and her clothes, she had red hair that she continuously flicked out of her face, a black tank top, and horrendous green pants.

Yes? Come in, I said, turning from my window to face the entryway of my bedroom.

The maid, Nina, I believed, entered with the words Her Majesty requires you in the throne room.

I scowled, even as I began walking. I didn’t want to go anywhere, I wanted to read a book, despite my spying on the girl outside.

An announcer called my presence, though I hadn’t paused at the door. I just wanted to get this over with.

Come in, son, my mother, Queen Cassandra, invited.

I had my mother’s ink-black hair, and some say I had inherited her aristocratic nose, but that was where the similarities ended. My mother had light-brown eyes with long lashes to my dark eyes. Much about her was dainty and beautiful, which was probably why she caught my father’s eye. She had a valentine-shaped face with a somewhat pale complexion. She was very well composed.

Today she wore a regal blue gown with pearls both around her neck and down her bodice. She had crème-colored silk gloves on, and I knew she had silk slippers on. Her dark-brown hair was twisted into an elaborate bun around her golden crown, which meant she was meeting someone. She didn’t normally have her crown adorning her head.

I blamed taking my mother’s dress into such close consideration on the fact that I was a prince and was raised primarily by a woman.

My expression twisted in distaste as I entered. With its cavernous feel, red strip of rug, and loops of velvet rope lined along the color leading to the pair of thrones, it did not encourage feelings of welcome.

I need to have a word with you, she said, in that commanding tone she uses when making announcements to her people.

You just did, I said, smirking. You had seven words with me.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, one of the rare moments when her peasant history shone through, and said, "I swear, you get this from your father.

I have a new guard coming. I don’t want you talking to her. I’ve had to send away three of my guards just because they were watching for you more than anything else!

I sighed. Most of Mother’s guards were female while mine were male, primarily because we were more comfortable with those of our own gender. Mother, it’s not my fault I’m—the door squeaked open—ruggedly handsome. I turned to see who had intruded upon us.

There she was. The most enchantingly beautiful girl I had ever seen cringing at the noise of the door. My lip curled at her green pants. They had darker splotches scattered across the fabric. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the connection between her and the girl outside clicked.

She noticed us staring at her and composed herself, standing up straight. She took a breath and said, Who’s—she cleared her throat—ruggedly handsome?

I flashed my signature smile and said, I am.

She glanced at my smile, seemed disturbed, and turned to my mother, completely unfazed. My ego cringed even though I physically didn’t.

Excuse me, but the woman I asked told me the queen is in the throne room. Is this it? she asked.

I was struck by her voice, now that I listened to it. It didn’t have the crispness I was used to hearing. Did Mother get an American guard?

Yes, my mother answered, the corners of her lips twitching. I knew those lips were twitching because of the girl’s reaction to me.

Are you the queen?

Indeed. I am Queen Cassandra. Your mother told me you were coming. You take a great deal after her. My mother’s tone was warm, warmer than I was expecting. The last time I saw you in person, you fit in the crook of my arm.

What is going on?

The girl inclined her head slightly, flashing a small smile. Then she glanced at me, distaste clear on her face, and asked, And the narcissist? Who’s he?

My mother laughed outright. That is my son, Prince Nicholas.

She held her hand out to me, and I took it. I pressed my lips to her knuckles, and she tensed, and then suddenly I was airborne, and then I was on my back, on the floor. My ego and pride took the hit just as hard as my back did. How on earth did she do that? She was a tiny little thing!

I heard a gasp, and then the girl’s voice saying, I’m so sorry! It was just a reflex! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know people did that! I’m so, so sorry!

I waved her apology off as I gasped for air. As my lungs started working again, she offered me a hand up. I took it and pulled her down as she pulled me up.

It was meant to be playful, even though I was irritated at having been thrown, but let’s just say neither one of us got to our feet. We ended up outright brawling on the floor. Well, she did. I just held her down. Even though she was clearly stronger, I was bigger with longer arms.

My mother cleared her throat and yelled, Guards! Please come help!

Two female guards came in and separated the girl and me. She had gotten in a few good hits—my eye was already swelling.

The girl regained her composure quickly, but she spat, I take back the apology!

I glared at her as the guards led me out of the room and to the kitchen.

Chapter 1

Three years later

Rosalinda

Rosalinda?

I told you to call me Rose, Queenie, I reminded her. She and I had gotten close over the years, so close we’d moved on to nicknames. Of course, that might have been helped along by the fact that my mother had been one of the queen’s personal guards years ago and the queen was a close family friend. Which was also why I’d been accepted into the personal guard at fourteen. And why I was given a little leeway with which to smart off to the crown prince, Nicholas. Queenie enjoyed my quips, which was gratifying.

But not why I’d been allowed to keep my job. I was one of the best guards Queenie had, no question. I was extremely skilled with the guns all guards were required to use—I hit dead in the middle of the chest of the practice sheets every time—though I preferred martial arts, and I knew how to identify hundreds of scents. It came in handy more often than not, strangely enough. I could also do far more than that, but those were my main claims to fame.

Now that I thought about it, I had a strange skill set.

She smiled, saying, Right. Rose. I’m transferring you.

Well, I thought I was the best.

I blanched. "What? I-I know I’ve been a little distracted lately, but—wait, where’re you transferring me to?"

My son’s guard. She looked vaguely surprised, as if I’d asked her if she was real. And yes, I have asked her that before. My first week guarding her, I’d still been in shock, so I’d asked her if she was real. She was.

I scowled. Queenie, you know we hate each other.

She nodded sagely. That is why I’m transferring you over to guard him. Maybe you can become friends.

My lip curled. The only thing that will ‘become’ is nothing. Maybe even greater distaste.

Which is why I’m transferring you. I want to know how you would do guarding someone you don’t like. Queenie seemed smug.

But—but shouldn’t we at least talk to the current head? I spluttered.

"Already done. As you are to be appointed today, Aaron has begun moving his things to be the head of my personal guard." Queenie waved a delicate satin-gloved hand.

Aaron was the head of the prince’s guard—previously, of course. The prince’s and queen’s guards were the groups of their personal guards, respectively. I was the head of the queen’s.

Or, I used to be. Apparently!

Queenie, you didn’t even take me up on this—you should have told me what your plans were.

She gave me a sharp glance. I am the queen. Are you telling me I should make my personal decisions after consulting you?

I took a breath, held it for ten seconds in an effort to keep my frustration at bay, then let it out. Before I could say anything, the door swung open and in walked the announcer, followed closely by the crown prince, otherwise known as Prince Nicholas.

Mother, I would like permission to—oh. Hello, Rosalinda, he said blandly.

You do not have the right to call me that. To you, it is Miss Archer, I replied calmly, civilly. It wouldn’t have been quite so civil had the queen not been there.

Too bad. I can call you whatever I want. Remember—you’re a guard. He said the word guard like it was some type of disease.

Excuse me, but what has saved your butt all your life? I asked him, somewhat aggressively.

Mother, back to the point. I need to ask for your permission, Prince Nicholas said, avoiding my question. I smiled slightly. I knew I was right.

Well, can it wait? I must alert you of a new circumstance, Queenie said, firmly.

Prince Nicholas sighed. I guess. What is it?

Rose will be the new head of your personal guard.

His eyes widened, a rare show of human emotion, as he clenched his fists, which were hanging at his sides. What? Why? Wasn’t Aaron good enough?

Aaron was good, but I have decided to switch them out. I want to conduct a little experiment.

What kind of experiment?

I want to see what happens if I put one person guarding the one she hates. Queenie smiled. I wasn’t sure if it was me or not, but the smile seemed a bit malicious.

But, Mother, how could you put my safety into the hands of—of that? He gestured toward me.

I felt my face and ears go hot. I didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or from anger, but I didn’t really care at that moment in time. All I knew was that I didn’t want to protect this spoiled brat.

And what do you mean by that? Queenie asked.

She’s a girl, Mother! A girl! He seemed to immediately regret his choice of words.

I let my mouth gape open for a second, then stormed up to him, blood pounding in my ears. Listen here, Prince Brat, and you listen good, ’ cause I’m not saying it twice. I can match up to any male opponent with my hands tied behind my back. I can probably guard you better than any guy could, and you wanna know why? Because I have grown up with seven older brothers. I know when I’m being watched. I know when somebody’s faking. And, you know what’s even better? I know how to defend myself against a guy. Got me? Good. I realized I’d been jabbing my finger into his chest, and I backed up to my previous post, which was slightly behind the queen’s throne and to the right. I was still scowling, and still angry, my breath coming faster than usual.

Both Queenie and Prince Nicholas stood watching me, mouths agape. I figured it a feat I had even rendered Prince I’ve-Always-Got-Something-to-Say speechless. It was so quiet I could’ve heard a pin drop outside in the garden.

I shoved my red hair out of my eyes and spun around on my heel, checking for intruders as my hand fell back to rest on the hilt of my gun. Nothing. Good.

S-son, I believe she has made her point. Do you wish to make any more complaints? Queenie asked, stammering slightly. Huh. Never heard that before.

Um…no. When will she begin guarding me? Prince Brat asked from between his teeth. He raked a hand through his hair.

Today.

He smiled tightly. I rue this day.

Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

Nicholas

I can’t believe that sarcastic little girl is going to be guarding me! Anybody would have been better than her!

I glowered, wandering out to the castle grounds, Aaron at my heels. He, or someone else, was always with me, regardless of where I was going.

The crackle of his walkie-talkie sounded with some murmured words before he ran up behind me. Prince Nicholas! My prince!

I turned slightly, giving him a glare from the corners of my eyes. What?

He stopped short a few feet away from me. Paparazzi have been sighted along the borders of the garden. We must retreat inside for now.

I grit my teeth. The garden is on the opposite end of the castle. Why must we go inside when we are—

This is part of the garden, my prince. The others aren’t sure where all the photographers are hiding. They just saw one flash. Aaron didn’t sound exasperated, just forcibly calm. It was understandable; we had this conversation a lot.

I still didn’t quite understand, but from what I’d gathered from the guards talking, the paparazzi were trouble because they weren’t supposed to be on castle grounds, and my mother didn’t want much about me to get out. Something about security.

My gaze shot around my surroundings and found what looked a little like the lens of a camera peeking out from the nearby bushes. I discreetly rolled my eyes up and turned fully to Aaron, then tilted my head in the direction I found the lens in before starting on my way back to the castle. I didn’t like the paparazzi any more than the guards did, simply because I wasn’t able to do very much when they were around.

I immediately regretted my decision as I found Rosalinda standing beside the door on the inside, arms crossed and making faces over her shoulder.

My somewhat calm mood gave way to a more negative one. Rosalinda.

She started, her hands balling into fists as she looked at me. That was pleasing. Also a bit disgruntling, because it was actually rather cute. I was an idiot for thinking that way.

What do you want? she grumbled, her mouth falling into a scowl.

Who were you making faces at?

She gave me an incredulous look. Does that matter? You almost got incriminating—

Who says that anymore? I interrupted. "Incriminating. That’s simply—"

Why—I don’t— She huffed in frustration as Aaron came through the door, hauling a man with a camera around his neck. Is that a paparazzo?

Yep, Aaron answered, taking the camera from the man, who finally struggled, shouting about how that camera was his private property, yadda, yadda, yadda. Oh, shut it. You forfeited this camera the second you came onto palace grounds. Rose, can you search through this and see if he got any incriminating evidence of Prince Nicholas’s mood? I doubt that would be very beneficial toward his reputation.

Rosalinda gave me a smug look as she took it. I gave her a dirty one in response.

Sure, Aaron, she agreed, slipping the strap over her neck. What should I do if he did?

Take the photos off. Don’t damage the camera itself, though. Aaron started walking away, dragging the photographer with him; the man was kicking and screaming like mad.

Rosalinda sighed, fiddling with the buttons on the camera.

So Aaron’s allowed to call you Rose, but I can’t even call you Rosalinda? I raised an eyebrow at her, crossing my arms over my chest. Her name was oddly important to me.

She gave me a distracted glance before returning her gaze back to the screen on the camera. Precisely.

I rolled my eyes. Really?

She nodded before her lip twitched. She hadn’t done that before; maybe it was something to do with the photos on the device?

I didn’t ask why her lip did that, even though I was honestly curious. Instead, I walked away. I only got a few steps away before I heard the quick tattoo of rubber on marble tile.

Hall after hall of white walls with pale light sconces and white marble floors passed before I reached the door I was looking for. Dark wood double doors opened into a large room similar to the halls but were occupied in the middle by a long table made of the same wood as the doors. The chairs around the table were taken by members of Parliament.

I apologize for being late, I murmured, making my way quickly to my seat, the one to the left of the head of the table. The head was taken by my mother.

Rosalinda made her way to the wall, where she stood with the rest of the guards. I was surprised I didn’t have to tell her to. Shocking that she was actually competent, despite her sarcasm.

The entire meeting, Rosalinda watched me and the windows. And I watched her, only mostly listening to the meeting. My efforts paid off when our eyes met and she flushed bright red. That brought me an odd amount of satisfaction, though I swiftly squashed it.

When the conference was finally, finally over, I made my way out the door behind the Parliament officials, who made their ways out the door behind all the guards. It was truly an excruciating process, but not as bad as the meeting itself. It had been about foreign immigration, otherwise known as an extremely boring thing princes and queens have to deal with.

When I finally got outside, Rosalinda fell into step behind me.

Rosalinda, I acknowledged, simply to irritate her. I liked her name. It suited her: not too gruff and not too sweet.

Prince Nicholas. Her voice was oddly distant.

I sent a glance over my shoulder. I’m just going back to my room. I’m not going to leave until dinnertime.

Good for you. She kept her pace behind me, looking around the hallway alertly.

You don’t have to accompany me anymore.

I hope to One Direction Aaron doesn’t fall for that.

Fall for what? My brows scrunched into each other as I stopped and turned to face her.

She was so absorbed in checking our surroundings she very nearly ran into me. She backed away quickly. That’s one of the oldest tricks in the books. ‘I’m going to my room, so I’ll be safe. You are dismissed,’ she mocked, deepening her voice by several octaves. I glared at her, but she continued before I could respond. That’s idiotic. I’m not leaving you alone. That’s not my job.

You shouldn’t even have a job! I exclaimed. You’re what, twelve?

I smirked as that calm façade finally cracked, revealing the irritation she was hiding. You’re what, ten? she retorted.

I narrowed my eyes at her. I’m eighteen, for your information.

She shrugged. I was close. You act like a ten-year-old.

I glared at her, clenching my fists to warn myself against doing anything my mother herself would punish me for. I know what you’re doing.

She raised an eyebrow just a notch and leaned forward, propping her hands on her hips. And what am I doing?

Trying to get a rise out of me. It’s not going to work.

Rosalinda rolled her eyes. "That’s not what I’m doing, but brilliant guess. Can we continue walking now?"

Sarcasm’s not a good look on you.

She looked down at herself. Really? I thought it brought a healthy glow to my skin.

I threw my hands up and turned away from her. You are such a—

Smart aleck? Yeah, my mom tells me that all the time.

"I was going to go with brat." I stomped away from her, even though I knew she was going to follow me.

"Sure, I’m the brat. I didn’t get everything I wanted all my life." I didn’t even have to look at her to know she’d rolled her eyes, but I decided to be the bigger person and keep silent.

Can’t stand the truth?

Persistent pain in the neck.

Don’t have an answer?

Please shut up, Rosalinda. You’re giving me a headache. Did I just say please? To her?

Surprisingly, she consented. And followed me all the way to my bedroom door, where she stood sentry.

I sighed before closing it. She was such a nuisance sometimes.

Chapter 2

Rosalinda

It took me about fifteen minutes before I was bored, standing out in the hall. The prince’s hallway was not very interesting; it just had white walls, like the rest of the castle, with pale marble flooring and creamish wall sconces casting a pale, warm light. Servants and guards bustled around, most waving at me as they passed.

But more importantly, I was bored.

I yawned, my eyes watering slightly as I stretched my arms over my head.

Just then the door behind me swung open.

I gasped, yawn unsatisfyingly unfinished, jumping forward as my arms fell back to my sides. I spun, fists raised in a fighting stance, but then realized it was just the prince.

He raised an eyebrow. Are you planning on fighting me?

I shrugged, forcefully moving my arms to cross over my chest after rubbing the yawn-induced tears away and patting the gun holstered at my side to make sure it was there. Sometimes I feel like it.

He smirked. Might I remind you how our fight went when we were younger?

There was only one fight he could be referring to: the first one we had, also the only physical one.

I plastered an innocent expression on my face. Yes, and as I recall, I didn’t have a scratch on me while you had multiple bruises.

His expression darkened. That’s amusing, because I remember it the opposite.

I snorted and shook my head. You’re memory-impaired. Where are we going?

Where’s my mother? He crossed his arms, looking down at me from his six-foot frame.

I spoke into my walkie-talkie, taking my eyes from the prince briefly. Where is the queen?

There was a crackly reproach for not using her nickname before the answer: She’s in the throne room.

Throne room, I repeated to the prince, reattaching the talkie to my belt. When I glanced back up, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I swore and dashed down the hall, looking around frantically. I’d already lost my charge, and it was only my first day! A vague sense of déjà vu hit.

I caught a glimpse of him snickering down a side hall and smirked, taking a hall that would lead me to the one he was hiding in.

When I finally got there, I eased my breathing before tapping him on the shoulder. Whatcha laughin’ at?

He jumped and swore badly enough that if I’d done it in front of my mother, I’d have gotten spanked and my mouth washed out with soap.

What’re you doing— he began.

You left your guard behind, that’s very bad sportsmanship, I sang, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, tucking my hands behind my back.

He scowled at me. You came and found me, that’s even worse.

I blinked, a little too innocently. I thought we were playing hide-’n’-seek.

We’re not.

I dropped the act and rolled my eyes, shoving my hands into my front pockets as I hunched my shoulders forward, looking about four inches shorter than my ordinary long frame. I was usually about five feet, eight inches tall. Caught that, thanks.

He stared down at me so long I felt my ears get hot.

Yes, of course you did. Where did you say my mother was again?

I stood straight again, crossing my arms over my chest. Throne room.

He turned without any type of a reply and started on his way to the room, leaving me to scurry behind him. Even though I was only a few inches shorter than him, he still had some lengthy strides while I did not.

When he got to the throne room, I’d finally managed to even out my gait and calm my breathing.

As the announcer declared our presence, I ran my hand over my hair to try to smooth it before we saw Her Majesty. One was not supposed to look messy when facing the queen, not even a guard. Which was kind of stupid, how could you fight and not end up looking haggard? Besides movie stars—they never did anything for real.

What’re you bloody doing? Prince Nicholas snapped, turning to stare at me.

Making myself presentable, I grumbled, trying