were staying here for a few weeks,” she says casually. Maybe too casually.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m heading to Stirling with you.”
That earns me a glance. Her eyes are wide as they stare at me across the table, her perfect, plump lips dropping open.
“But what about…” she trails off, just as Eyvar had.
How long have I let my memories hold me back? How much did I wear my grief like a badge of honor? Even a woman who’s known me mere weeks can tell that my decision to go to the capital is unusual.
I dab the corners of my lips with a thick cloth napkin, meeting Rowan’s eye. “I think it might be time for me to face my fears head-on, don’t you?”
She pauses, reaching for her coffee cup. “Whatever you think is best, Your Highness.”
“That doesn’t sound like you, Rowan.”
Her eyes flick up to mine when I say her name. Her throat clenches and releases as she swallows, spots of red flushing over her cheeks. “How do you know what I’m like?”
I grin in response, which earns me a huff from Rowan. It feels like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I can breathe fully for the first time in years.
I’m going to Stirling. I’m not afraid of the memorial. I’m not afraid of the pictures and videos and reminders of my fiancée’s death. I can’t run away from it all anymore.
Even if Rowan doesn’t realize it yet, having her near makes me feel stronger. Being close to her gives me energy. It gives me life. It makes me feel like there’s hope for a brighter future, and like I don’t need to run away from the past.
But as she finishes her meal and nods to a waiter as he takes her plate away, I see the tension in her shoulders. She steals a glance my way, and I’m not sure if she feels the same way I do.
After bringing Chief back to the kennels and giving him one last pat on the head, I find Rowan in one of the sitting rooms, ready to go. We make our way to the garages just as the last of Rowan’s bags are loaded into the trunk. She slips into the back seat, and I circle around to the other side. When I slide into the seat beside her, I can feel the distance between us like a chasm.
We set off in silence, rolling through the countryside. Finally, when we pass the train station, Rowan lets out a long sigh. I reach over and place my hand over hers, squeezing gently.
“I was so scared when I first arrived,” Rowan says quietly. She laughs, shaking her head. “It’s embarrassing to think about it now.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I answer, my voice low.
“Thank you for stopping. For saving me,” she says quietly. When she flicks her eyes toward me, the look on her face makes my blood pump thick and hot in my veins. She gulps, turning her hand over so she can intertwine her fingers in mine.
This feels right. It feels good. Being here, beside Rowan, heading back to the capital that I call home—it feels like it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Rowan glances at me, letting out a soft sigh. She leans back in her seat, keeping her hand curled around mine, and stares out the window at the passing snow-covered landscape. For once, it feels like she belongs here.
With me.
19
Rowan
We drive to a private airfield a short distance away from the train station where I arrived. The Prince slips his hand out of mine when the car stops, and I immediately miss his closeness. My fingers tingle where they touched his skin, and I remember what it felt like to be in his arms.
It felt good. And right. And real. As much as I try to deny it, I love having him beside me.
The Prince puts his hand on my lower back as we walk toward a private jet, flight attendants waiting at the bottom and top of the stairs to help us on board. The Prince’s huge, pale-eyed bodyguard follows us, carrying my bags toward the plane.
When we get inside, my breath catches. I’ve never been in a private jet before—obviously.
It’s massive. We’re greeted with a fully stocked bar and kitchen. Beyond, two huge chairs are set up on one side, with a big L-shaped couch on the other. And farther still, beyond a small partition, a king-sized bed takes up the far end of the cabin.
My