Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,26

was held and relationships were formed. Nord was born in that cottage, centuries ago.

“I’d like to restore the visitor’s cottage, too. I was thinking we could commission artwork from every tribe and village that came together there. We could engage local artists. Celebrate the history of each individual community.” Her eyes lift to mine, deep blue hitting me like a lightning bolt to the chest.

Maybe she’s not clueless.

I nod. “You’re learning.”

Rowan gives me a soft smile. “I should have come up here as soon as I got the contract.”

“Yes.” I hold her gaze. “You should have.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. I stifle a groan. She blinks, taking a deep breath. “I understand your comments about my design. I’m starting over from scratch.”

I rest my hand on top of the blanket, feeling her ankle beneath it. Why does it feel so comfortable being here beside her? Why does my heart beat easier when she’s near?

Eyvar says I shouldn’t get too close to her, but here, in the silence of the night, it’s easy to forget his words.

Rowan looks away from me, her cheeks turning pink. “I heard about your fiancée. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Her gaze finds mine as silence stretches between us. In the darkness of the library, it feels intimate. More intimate than I’ve felt in a long time.

“Is that why you’re here? To get away?”

I stare at the howling storm outside before answering. “The memorials and vigils remind me of everything I lost. October has always been difficult.” As I turn my head to look at Rowan, though, my words feel empty. The sting of my emotions has lessened, and my loss doesn’t seem so painful anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s not a secret.” I shrug. My gaze drifts back to watch the storm, but every other sense is tuned into Rowan’s frequency. She shifts on the couch, letting out a long sigh. When I swing my gaze to meet hers, though, I see no pity in her eyes. Empathy, yes. Understanding.

But no pity.

It’s…refreshing. A lump forms in my throat and I glance away. Pushing myself up to my feet, I glance down at Rowan, who’s still curled on the couch. “You should go to your room. It gets cold in here without a fire burning.”

Then I walk away, feeling Rowan’s wide-eyed stare on my back.

10

Rowan

I drag myself up to my own bed, head reeling from my conversation with the Prince. He’s been doing research about me—he knew I had a boyfriend. Did he seem relieved when I said we broke up, or is that just my twisted imagination?

Distrust and dislike come off him in waves, yet he still ends up seeking me out. He was right about one thing, though. My design was all wrong. After just one day reading through old stories of Nord and seeing the way the storm battered the palace, I know my original ideas don’t work.

Now that I’m here, I understand the importance of this redesign. Not only for my career. Not for the royal family. For the whole kingdom. Updating this palace needs to represent the kingdom as a whole.

So how did I get the job?

I let out a breath, wishing Grandma were here. She’d make me feel at home. She’d remind me I have Nordish blood in my veins, and I belong to this place as much as anyone else. She’d tell me about my mother’s childhood, and how she came to work at the palace.

But she’s up in a hospital bed, and I’m here, alone. Needing to navigate my complicated relationship with the Prince and figure out where I went wrong with my design.

Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

But I hear the creak of my hinges and sit up in bed to see a big, furry creature padding toward the bed. Letting out a sigh, I smile. “Hey, Chief.”

The dog hops up on the bed and curls up next to me. Finally, I can sleep.

I don’t see the Prince for over a week. The storm rages around us, but I stay warm and fed inside. I spend a lot of time in the archives, inhaling every scrap of information about the palace and the royal family. In the evenings, I return to the library, half-hoping the Prince will be there waiting for me.

He isn’t.

Disappointment tastes bitter, but I try to push it down. Vikki keeps me company, finding me when her day of work is