2. Ryewood #2
Finally, Father dismisses the crowd to mingle, and the royal box floods with silk gowns and simpering smiles. It doesn’t take long for company to find us.
Three women approach, all with big eyes and low necklines, one in green, one in gold, and one in blue.
“Prince Ryewood,” the one in blue says, dipping into a curtsy that purposefully shows off her assets. “Quite the ceremony today.”
“Wasn’t it?” I give her an easy smile. “The housecat was my favorite part.”
She laughs like I’ve said something brilliant.
Finn leans in, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “You know they only do this because you’re a prince, right?”
“Jealous?” I elbow him, grinning.
“Please.” He grins.
He turns to the one in gold, flashes that effortless charm of his, and within moments, she’s forgotten I exist.
The look Finn throws me is insufferable, pure self-satisfaction. I flip him off behind their backs. That gets a laugh out of him. Then he’s back to the girl, leaning in like she’s the most interesting person in the room. She doesn’t stand a chance.
Finn and I can handle this part, but Hayes is a different story. He’s surrounded and suffering until I realize he’s not suffering at all. He’s staring at something across the box.
I follow his line of sight. Of course, Rosie.
She stands out, always has. Darker hair, skin that’s seen actual sunlight, those teal flecks in her green eyes like Finn’s. But it’s not just her features that stand out; it’s the warmth in them, the realness in a sea of performance.
Hayes is fucked when it comes to her, has been since the day she walked out of those woods.
“Rosie!” I call, waving her over.
Her bored expression shifts to genuine delight when she spots us.
I don’t miss the whispers as she crosses the box, heads leaning together, eyes cutting her way.
Pathetic.
Rosie survived the trials without any of their advantages, no guards, no real training, just guts and luck, the only commoner to make it out in my lifetime.
The people love her for it, and the nobles hate her for it.
Their problem, and Hayes’s, I guess. Father might’ve overlooked her being common-born. But the fact that she can’t shift? Only noble in history who can’t? That sealed it; Father will never let Hayes be with her.
“Well,” the girl beside me mutters, wrinkling her nose. “They’ll let anyone in the royal box these days.”
I pretend not to hear her.
Hayes doesn’t even seem to notice. His entire focus is on Rosie, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He’s so fucked. I can’t help but laugh a little.
Rosie finally glances at the girl in blue, just the briefest look, then turns back to Hayes as if the girl is simply part of the scenery. She always does that, and it never gets old, her casual indifference. Nothing irritates the nobles more than being deemed irrelevant.
The girl’s face flushes red. Finn and I shift, blocking her from the conversation. It takes her a beat too long before she turns and walks away, finally realizing she’s been dismissed entirely.
“So,” Rosie says, her attention fully on Hayes now. “That was quite the ceremony. Though I have to say, six survivors is the lowest I’ve ever seen.”
Hayes nods, expression serious. “Father keeps making them harder.”
“Of course he does.” Understanding flickers across Rosie’s face. She survived those woods, and she knows what it costs. “At least the ones who made it through seemed strong.”
“Strong or well-protected,” Finn adds, nudging Rosie like they’re sharing an inside joke.
Rosie’s mouth curves as she looks his way. “Same thing, with these nobles.” She waves a hand toward Hayes and me.
“You’re one of us now, Rosie,” I say with a grin. “Common-born or not, surviving the Woods made you officially one of us nobles.”
“How have you been?” Hayes asks, softer now. “I haven’t seen you in the gardens lately.”
She’s about to respond when a hand clamps down on Hayes’s shoulder. The warmth drains from Hayes’s face, and his shoulders tense.
Father.
His eyes find Rosie, and he draws a slow breath in through his nose before he turns to Hayes.
“There you are, Son.” Father’s smile is pleasant and complete bullshit. “Lord Davrik has been asking for you. You’ll have to excuse us.”
Hayes’s face closes off. “Of course, Father.”
Father nods to Rosie like she’s a servant who’s overstayed. “Lady Rosalie. Always a pleasure.”
She dips her head. “Your Majesty.”
And just like that, Hayes is gone, shepherded toward Lord Davrik and his daughter, Belinda. Another move on Father’s board.
I watch Hayes go, shoulders stiff, that easy smile from moments ago wiped clean. Rosie watches, too; a stillness crosses her face before she turns away.
I notice Grier and Finn off to the side, heads close together, talking low. Finn catches my eye and gives me a nod, then makes his way over.
“Guard routine tonight?” He keeps his voice casual. “Grier approved.”
I glance at Hayes. Still trapped with the Davriks, nodding along while Belinda simpers at him. He looks miserable.
“Fuck yes.” I grin. “He needs it.”
“We all do.” Finn bumps my shoulder.