The rain wouldn't stop.
It poured over the streets, turned the air cold, and made Evelyn Ashford's boots feel like wet bread. Her umbrella had given up three blocks ago, and her hair stuck to her forehead like a sad curtain.
She stared up at the towering iron gate before her. The silver crest of House Blackthorne gleamed faintly in the stormlight.
"This is insane," she muttered to herself. "Utterly insane. I should've just opened a bakery. Or joined a monastery."
But it was too late now. She had already chopped her hair, stolen her late brother's clothes, and glued on a fake mustache that itched like a mosquito bite. She looked more like a lost street boy than a bodyguard.
Still, Evelyn puffed out her chest. "I can do this," she whispered. "Just act manly. Deep voice. Serious face. Maybe grunt once in a while."
A guard peered at her from behind the gate. "You here for the bodyguard interview?"
Evelyn nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. Name's Evan Ash." Her attempt at a deep voice came out like a frog trying to sing opera.
The guard tilted his head. "You look awfully small for a guard."
"Compact," she said. "Easier to dodge arrows."
He snorted and waved her in. "You'll need that sense of humor. The Duke's last three guards quit in tears."
Great. Comforting news.
Inside, the mansion was too beautiful for her poor heart to handle. Crystal chandeliers, polished marble, oil paintings bigger than her entire cottage. Evelyn tried to walk normally, but her soaked boots squeaked with every step.
A servant led her to a large study where Duke Alaric Blackthorne sat behind a mountain of papers. The room smelled faintly of rain, old books, and something expensive she couldn't name.
Evelyn had seen portraits of him before but those paintings didn't do him justice. He looked sharp, both literally and emotionally. Black hair, pale skin, gray eyes that could probably see through lies, disguises, and fake mustaches.
"Your Grace," the servant said softly, "the new guard applicant."
The Duke didn't look up right away. He just turned a page. "Name?"
"Evan Ash," Evelyn said, lowering her voice and hoping it didn't sound like a dying bird.
He glanced at her, and that one look made her feel like she'd been pinned to the wall. Calm, cold, and assessing as if he were reading every secret thought she'd ever had.
"You wish to be my personal guard?" he asked.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Experience?"
Evelyn's mind blanked. "Plenty."
"Such as?"
"Well," she said, thinking fast, "once I scared off a thief using… a broom."
He blinked. "A broom."
"A sturdy one," she added helpfully.
There was a short silence. His expression didn't change, but his eyebrow twitched. Was that… amusement?
Then, before Evelyn could decide if she should run away, the door burst open.
"Your Grace!" a servant shouted. "Behind you—!"
A shadow crashed through the window. Glass shattered. An assassin in black rushed toward the Duke, blade raised.
Evelyn didn't think. Her body moved first.
She grabbed the nearest thing which is her umbrella and swung.
Whack!
The umbrella bent in half. The assassin fell face-first into the floor.
Silence filled the room.
Evelyn stood frozen, umbrella in hand, eyes wide. "Oh. Um. Sorry about the window."
The Duke looked at the unconscious man, then at her. "You stopped an assassin with an umbrella."
"It was… a reflex."
He walked closer. He was taller than she expected, and his voice was deep enough to make her forget how breathing worked. "You are either very lucky or very foolish."
"Why not both?" she said before her brain could stop her mouth.
A tiny pause. Then, unbelievably, the Duke smiled. Just barely, a faint curl at the corner of his lips.
"You start tomorrow morning," he said.
Evelyn blinked. "What?"
"You're hired."
He turned to the guards who had just arrived. "Take him to the prison. And fix the window."
As the servants rushed around, Evelyn just stood there, clutching her broken umbrella. "I'm sorry, did you say I'm hired?"
"Yes," he said without looking up. "If you can survive one attack, you may survive the rest. Try not to break anything else."
She nodded dumbly. "Yes, Your Grace. I'll… try not to breathe too hard either."
Outside the study, her heart wouldn't stop racing. The old butler gave her a towel. "Congratulations, young man. You've lasted longer than most."
Evelyn laughed weakly. "I think I might pass out in triumph."
"Don't," he said kindly. "We just cleaned the floor."
She stepped outside into the garden. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the air fresh and cool. Moonlight shone through the clouds and reflected off the puddles.
Evelyn looked up at the grand windows of the Duke's mansion. Somewhere inside, that impossible man was calmly sipping tea as if she hadn't just smashed an assassin in front of him.
She let out a long breath. "Well, Evan Ash," she whispered to herself, "you're officially the clumsiest bodyguard in the kingdom."
But even as she said it, she smiled. For the first time in years, her chest felt light.
Maybe, just maybe, her life was about to change.