15. Rowan
I hate crowds.
Not because I can't handle them, I can.
I've worked rooms louder than this, messier than this, filled with people who would sell you for the right price and smile while doing it.
But this?
This wasn't loud.
It was controlled.
Polished.
Every laugh measured. Every step deliberate. Every word dipped in fake respect and real calculation.
And me?
I stood three steps behind him.
Like always.
Like I was supposed to.
Like I could ignore the fact that nothing about this felt normal anymore.
Caelum stood at the center of it all.
White.
That was the first thing that hit.
Not soft white.
Not simple.
Sharp white.
Clean.
Bright.
Untouchable.
Gold traced along the edges of his outfit, subtle but impossible to ignore. Around his shoulders, his cuffs, catching the light every time he moved.
And his hair,
Blond.
Almost too perfect under the chandeliers, like it was designed to reflect attention.
His eyes,
Blue.
Cold.
Focused.
Unreachable.
A king.
That's what he looked like.
That's what everyone saw.
I shouldn't have been looking.
But I was.
Constantly.
Without thinking.
Without meaning to.
My gaze kept finding him like it had a mind of its own.
Every time he moved.
Every time he spoke.
Every time someone stepped too close.
"Focus," I muttered under my breath.
Because that's what I was supposed to do.
Watch the room.
Scan for threats.
Stay sharp.
Stay professional.
Not...
Not this.
A nobleman approached him.
Too confident.
Too close.
Leaning in like he had the right.
Caelum didn't step back.
Of course he didn't.
He held his ground, posture straight, expression unreadable as he listened.
Responded.
Engaged.
Like it was effortless.
Like everything about this came naturally to him.
My jaw tightened.
"Step back," I muttered quietly.
Not loud enough for anyone to hear.
Just enough to get it out.
Because the guy was too close.
Because his hand hovered a little too near Caelum's arm.
Because...
I exhaled sharply.
It wasn't my place.
It wasn't a threat.
It was normal.
This was how these people interacted.
This was part of the job.
So why did it feel wrong?
The nobleman laughed.
Caelum didn't.
Just a slight curve of his lips.
Polite.
Controlled.
And something in my chest twisted.
Hard.
Uncomfortable.
Sharp enough to make me shift my weight.
"Get a grip," I muttered.
Because this was ridiculous.
It didn't mean anything.
None of it meant anything.
So why did it feel like it did?
My eyes dropped.
For a second.
Just to breathe.
Just to break the line of sight.
Then...
Back up again.
Straight to him.
Like I couldn't help it.
Like something in me kept pulling me there.
He turned slightly.
And for a split second...
Our eyes met.
Direct.
Unfiltered.
And everything else...
The noise.
The people.
The room...
Faded.
Just for a second.
Then he looked away.
Like it didn't happen.
Like it didn't matter.
My chest felt tight again.
I exhaled slowly.
"You're losing it," I muttered.
Because I was.
There was no other explanation.
Another person stepped up.
A woman this time.
Elegant.
Composed.
Perfectly suited to stand next to him.
She smiled.
Spoke softly.
Close.
Too close.
And he...
He leaned in slightly to hear her better.
That was it.
That small movement.
That tiny shift.
That...
Something in me snapped.
Not outwardly.
Not visibly.
But internally...
It hit hard.
Fast.
Immediate.
My stomach twisted.
Like something sour had settled there.
Like I'd swallowed something wrong.
I clenched my jaw.
Hard.
"Doesn't matter," I told myself.
It doesn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
It can't matter.
But it did.
And I hated that.
I turned my head slightly, forcing myself to scan the room.
Focus.
Work.
Do the job.
Not...
Not this.
Not him.
Not the way he looked in that white and gold like he was made for it.
Not the way his voice dropped just slightly when he spoke to someone like they mattered.
Not the way people leaned toward him without thinking.
Not...
I swallowed hard.
My throat felt dry.
"Why do I care?" I muttered.
Because that was the question.
The one that kept coming back.
The one that didn't have an answer.
Another glance.
I didn't mean to.
Didn't decide to.
Just...
Looked.
And there he was again.
Same posture.
Same control.
Same...
Perfect.
God.
That was the problem.
He looked too good.
Too put together.
Too untouchable.
Like no one had the right to get close.
Like no one should.
My hands clenched slightly at my sides.
Because the thought that followed...
Wasn't clean.
Wasn't controlled.
Wasn't something I wanted to sit with.
What if I did?
I blinked hard.
Shook my head slightly.
"No," I muttered.
Absolutely not.
Not going there.
Not thinking like that.
But it didn't stop.
Because my mind...
Apparently didn't care what I wanted.
What if I broke that control?
What if I pushed him...
Not with fists.
Not like before.
Something else.
Something closer.
Something that made that perfect composure crack.
My breath hitched slightly.
And I immediately looked away again.
"Get it together," I snapped under my breath.
Because this...
This wasn't me.
I've had thoughts before.
Sure.
I'm not stupid.
I've been around.
I've seen things.
Done things.
But this?
This wasn't casual.
This wasn't passing.
This was...
Focused.
On him.
Specifically.
And that made it worse.
I dragged a hand down my face.
Ignoring the slight sting from the bruise.
Good.
Pain helped.
Grounded me.
"Rowan."
The voice cut through everything.
Sharp.
Clear.
I straightened immediately.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Professional.
Controlled.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like I wasn't just...
Thinking things I shouldn't be thinking.
"Stay close."
I almost laughed.
Because I already was.
Because I hadn't been able to do anything else all night.
"Always do," I said.
A beat.
Then...
"Closer."
My gaze flicked to him.
Just for a second.
His expression didn't change.
Still calm.
Still controlled.
Still...
Impossible to read.
"Got it," I muttered.
And stepped in.
Just slightly.
Closing that distance by a fraction.
Still professional.
Still appropriate.
But closer.
Enough to notice more.
The faint scent of something clean and sharp.
The way the gold caught the light near his collar.
The way his breathing stayed even no matter who he was talking to.
And now...
Now it was worse.
Because I wasn't just looking anymore.
I was aware.
Of everything.
Someone else approached.
Another conversation.
Another polite exchange.
And I stood there...
Closer than before.
Watching.
Listening.
Trying not to feel...
Anything.
But it didn't work.
Because every time someone leaned in...
Every time someone smiled too much..
Every time someone looked at him like he was...
Untouchable...
Something in me reacted.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Wrong.
I wanted them to stop.
All of them.
Every single one.
Step back.
Give space.
Leave him...
He is Mine.
The thought hit so hard I actually flinched.
My breath caught.
"No," I whispered.
Too quiet for anyone else to hear.
But loud enough for me.
Because that...
That wasn't okay.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't...
Me.
I forced myself to look away again.
Scan the room.
Focus.
Work.
Do the job.
Not...
Not think about him like that.
Not imagine things I had no business imagining.
Not...
Want.
But even as I told myself all that...
My eyes drifted back.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And every time they did...
That feeling came with it.
Stronger.
Heavier.
Harder to ignore.
I didn't know what it was.
Didn't have a name for it.
Didn't want one.
Because naming it made it real.
And I wasn't ready for that.
All I knew was this...
Every time someone got too close to him...
I felt it.
Every time he smiled at someone else...
I noticed.
Every time he turned away...
I wanted him to turn back.
And that?
That scared me more than anything else in this palace ever could.