27

27
Alaric’s POV
It was late afternoon as I stepped into the house, my head pounding from exhaustation. I would still have to go back to the office in about an hour or two, and all I wanted at the moment was to rest for the amount of time I’d spend here before I went back.
My eyes involuntarily snapped to Emilia who was standing in front of the window, watching Francesca playing in the garden with a small smile on her face. As much as I had tried to, I couldn’t get her scent out of my head this morning. I couldn’t get her scent out of my bed, unless I was going to burn up the sheets, or send them to the laundress which I didn’t have time for at the moment.
She had left this morning before Francesca and I even woke up. And J wondered how she managed to slip out of the room without me even noticing. And I hadn’t seen her since then. Until now.
She turned to me after a few moments, her expression serious. “Alaric, we need to talk.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the directness in her voice. “What about?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Francesca before looking back at me. “About the guns,” she said, folding her arms. “Your men carry them around everywhere, even here, inside the house. It’s not safe, Alaric-not around a child.”
I felt a flicker of irritation but kept my voice steady. “Emilia, my men are armed for a reason. They’re here to protect us, especially Francesca. They need to be ready at all times.”
“I understand that,” she replied, her voice firm but calm. “But there’s a difference between protecting someone and risking their safety. Francesca’s still young, Alaric. She doesn’t fully understand the dangers of those things, and if she gets curious…” She let the sentence hang, and I saw the worry in her eyes.
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” I shot back, crossing my arms. “I know what risks there are. But this is the life we lead, Emilia. There are people out there who’d hurt Francesca just to get to me. You think a single lapse, a single moment when my men aren’t prepared, is worth the risk?”
Emilia shook her head, clearly not wanting to agree with me. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know there’s a threat; I’m not naive. But there are ways to protect her without exposing her to guns every day.” Her eyes softened a bit, and she took a step closer, her tone gentler. “Alaric, she’s just a child. She deserves some sense of normalcy. She shouldn’t have to grow up seeing weapons around her every day, thinking that’s normal.”
For a moment, I didn’t respond. The life Francesca had, the one I was trying to give her-it was safer than anything I’d known growing up. She had walls around her, guards ready at a moment’s notice. I’d been determined to make sure she would never be vulnerable, never know fear. But I knew Emilia was right, at least in part. Francesca was perceptive, and it wouldn’t be long before she started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“I’m not blind to the risks, Emilia,” I said finally, my voice quieter. “But you need to understand-these men are here because I trust them. They wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”
“Trust isn’t the issue,” Emilia replied, her gaze steady. “You trust them, but Francesca doesn’t understand any of that. All she sees are guns, and one day, she’s going to want to know why they’re here, why her life isn’t like other kids’ lives. She’s already starting to notice, Alaric. She asked me the other day why she doesn’t have friends over or go to birthday parties.”
Her words hit me harder than I’d like to admit. I knew Francesca was starting to notice the differences in her life, but I’d convinced myself it didn’t matter, that as long as she was safe, she’d understand one day. But the thought of her questioning, of her starting to feel isolated because of the choices I’d made-it unsettled me.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, my voice softer but still guarded. “You want me to disarm my men? Tell them to leave their weapons at the door? That’s not how this world works, Emilia. You don’t understand the kind of threats we’re dealing with.”
Emilia looked at me, a spark of frustration in her eyes. “I’m not asking you to do anything reckless, Alaric. I’m asking you to consider a compromise. Maybe have them keep the guns concealed, or at least limit where they carry them. If they need to protect her, they’ll still have access, but it won’t be in her face all the time.”
Her suggestion was reasonable, but still difficult at the same time. In my world, there was no halfway when it came to safety. A gun that wasn’t ready to use at a moment’s notice was as good as useless. But Emilia wasn’t coming from a place of ignorance-she was genuinely concerned about Francesca’s well-being, and that was something I couldn’t easily dismiss.
“Fine,” I said, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I’ll talk to them. See if we can find a way to keep the weapons out of sight when they’re around her. But, Emilia, if it ever becomes a matter of safety-”
“I understand,” she interrupted, nodding. “I’m not asking for perfection, just some balance. She needs to feel safe, Alaric. And not in the way we think of safety, but as a child who doesn’t have to look over her shoulder.”
I nodded reluctantly, letting her words sink in. I wasn’t used to compromise, but Francesca was different. If there was one thing I owed her, it was the chance to be a child without the weight of my world on her shoulders.
Emilia’s face softened, and for a moment, the tension that had settled between us over the last few weeks seemed to lift. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know this isn’t easy for you, and I appreciate it.”
I gave a stiff nod, not entirely sure how to respond to her gratitude. It was rare for someone to thank me for anything, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it coming from her. Part of me wanted to remind her that it wasn’t her place to question how I ran things, but another part-one that was growing harder to ignore-recognized that she was only doing this for Francesca.
She glanced over at Francesca, who was now sitting in the grass, absorbed in her play. Emilia’s expression softened, and I saw a gentleness in her that I wasn’t used to. She genuinely cared, not just as an employee, but in a way that was deeper, almost motherly. It was unsettling to realize how easily she’d stepped into that role, how Francesca had come to rely on her, even need her.
“Francesca means a lot to you,” I said, surprising myself.
Emilia looked at me, her expression unreadable for a moment. “Of course she does,” she replied softly. “She’s a wonderful child. She deserves to be happy, to feel safe and loved. I just want what’s best for her.”
Her words lingered in my mind, touching on something I’d been trying to ignore. I wanted to give Francesca the world, but Emilia was right. There was more to protection than guns and guards; there was the kind of safety that couldn’t be bought or commanded.
I cleared my throat, feeling at loss for words. “I’ll handle it,” I said finally. “My men will keep their weapons out of sight around her, as much as possible.”
Emilia smiled-a genuine, warm smile that caught me off guard. “Thank you, Alaric. Really.”
I shrugged, looking away, uncomfortable with the gratitude in her eyes. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”
But I knew it was more than that. For the first time, I was beginning to understand what it meant to protect her not just as her father, but as someone who wanted her to have a real childhood, something normal.
Emilia stepped back, giving me a final nod before heading outside to join Francesca. I watched them together, Francesca throwing her arms around Emilia, laughing as they sat down together in the grass.
Emilia was right though. Francesca didn’t need my world or my weapons; she needed a safe place to grow up, one that didn’t come with the constant shadow of fear. And maybe, just maybe, that meant making changes I hadn’t been willing to consider before.