Chapter Twenty-Three

The next two days rolled by uneventfully. The schedule was becoming routine: wake up, breakfast with candidates in the dining room–Laura preferred her room. If there were no mass announcements, candidates were free to do as they pleased from breakfast to noon–Laura was fast preferring her room. Lunch with the candidates was the same, but sometimes involved one or two of the royals which made attendance mandatory, and those were quickly becoming egregious–Laura really would rather be in her room. There haven’t been any ‘events’ for the past two nights, so outside of dinner, they were free to do anything up to curfew.

*Crunch*.

Her eyes flicked to the body seated across from her, with a mouth stuffed full of toast. Evelyn had taken to joining her in her room for breakfast–Laura’s opinion irrelevant. And if she thought the girl reserved before..she was comically wrong.

The last few days were the most relaxed she’s seen Evelyn–currently dressed in joggers and a hoodie, one leg held crushed to her chest as she ate. Food in mouth was the only time she seemed to take a breath from talking. Laura decided her casual attire better suited her personality–though obviously, the chick could rock a ball gown with confidence.

Laura learned quite a few things about herself from Evelyn, including the uncomfortable idea that she would be Laura’s right-hand–constant companion.

She looked over the silver-haired beauty, still unsure of what to make of her resolution–*borderline devotion*–to the canonical ideas of the goddess’ representative and reincarnation.

She mentally shrugged.

In any case, she had someone she could trust with her identity.

Footsteps approaching had them both facing the door.

“Come in,” Laura called before they could knock.

The attendant she’d seen escorting Evelyn, the night of the exhibition, entered, lowering his head.

“Apologies for the interruption. I was told I could find you here,” he looked at Evelyn, “I’ve come to notify you of your turn with the prince. Melody is waiting in your room to prepare you.”

He inclined his head again before taking his leave.

Laura faced Evelyn in time to catch her eye roll.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Laura muttered, smoothing her incredulous look…*shedding that benevolent ice princess look by the day*.

“But what’s this about a turn?”

“Each candidate gets an hour with the prince–though I didn’t think it was to start today..should’ve been after the queen’s trial,” she trailed to a mutter. “Perhaps he’s pushed it forward.”

Silver eyes held hers in an obvious *‘you’re the reason’* look.

Laura faced her yogurt.

Evelyn stood, twisting as she stretched. She crossed to the other side of the room.

“Don’t find trouble without me,” she warned, closing the door with a soft click.

*Pfft*. The only trouble Laura was going to find was in her sleep.

She gathered their breakfast remains and placed them outside the door before padding to the bed, unceremoniously flopping onto it.

***

“–long walks, and general outdoors stuff. *Oh*, and I really enjoy cooking.”

Rowan held a polite smile, mentally kicking his own ass for asking: *‘Thank you. Is there anything else you’d like to share?’*

Thus prompting a ten-minute-long breathing exercise of the driest, most wearisome, endeavors experienced by this candidate–whom he’d long forgotten the name of.

She certainly wasn’t his mate. He determined that much shortly after meeting her from the slight physical contact of their arms.

“I find that all fascinating, and would love to further this conversation later.” He stood, escorting her out of his meeting chambers to where a guard waited, ready to lead her away from the royal’s wing.

His smile dropped as soon as she was out of sight. He scrubbed his face, frustration leaking into his visage.

*Hm*.

He noticed a splatter of blood as he looked down, missed in the cleanup from the rogue a week before. He’d need a more thorough cleaning; he pulled the carpet to cover it.

Rowan sat down, picking up a handful of documents and a pen. He worked undisturbed, up until the sound of footsteps and a soft knock.

He cracked his neck, relaxing his body as he settled the polite smile back in place, before answering.

“Enter.”

The door swung open to reveal Evelyn Roseford.

Beautiful.

That was his first thought of her, years ago with their first meeting. He admitted he wasn’t opposed to having her as a match for him back then, but she proved to be a true frost flower–sparing no attention for his attempts, her personality geared against his.

He stood, watching as she bowed her head in respect as he inclined his in turn. Rowan moved from his desk to meet her. She was dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweats, not that it deterred her looks. Her silver hair swayed, glowing against the shade of the room as he led her to the adjacent sitting area. He casually leaned in to brush her skin. He was ninety percent sure it wasn’t her, but just to be safe...

He blinked.

Where there should have been a slight brush of skin, the white wolf seemed to effortlessly avoid his touch. He cleared his throat, trying again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken..and again, the same thing.

“Thank you for coming.” He flashed a bright smile, letting it reach his eyes, as he took the opposite seat, pouring a glass of wine on the small round table between them.

“Please.” He gestured toward her glass.

Her eyes remained trained on his. The only acknowledgment he received for his invitation to drink: a dispassionate *‘hm’.*

His smile nearly faltered.

“This meeting is for me to get to know you a little better. Your aspirations for yourself and all shifters, your–”

“I aspire to live peacefully for the goddess, and that does not necessarily include knowing you any further than I already do Your Highness.”

He clicked his tongue, unoffended by her words.

“That’s a wonderful goal. What exactly does a peaceful life look like to you?” He raised his glass to his lips.

“Whatever the goddess decides.”

He wasn’t sure when he offended her, but he felt her hostility.

If it were any other female, he wouldn’t bat an eye, but to offend this one would be to offend a large group.

Rowan shifted, reclining back in his seat.

“So, how have you been?” He leaned his face into his fist, letting the smile fall.

Her features shifted as her body remained poised.

“Better than a certain prince.”

His thumb tapped his cheek.

“That’s good to hear. How does your pack fair? Treating you well?”

Her jaw ticked slightly before her features smoothed.

“Of course.”

He frowned at her response.

“Is there something–”

“I think we both know each other well enough to do without this meeting, Prince Rowan?”

She stood abruptly, her feet sure as she retraced her steps to the door. She swung it open, taking a half-step before twisting around.

“Maybe we both can find what we’re looking for.”

She shut the door before he could react.

His fingers tapped the arm of the chair as he mulled over his idea to hold the one-on-one meetings ahead of schedule.