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When I take a step toward her, she stirs. Her eyes flutter open and a frown pulls her brows together. Blinking two or three times, she looks at me. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is muffled and sleepy. It tugs at something deep in my chest.
“Came looking for you,” I answer truthfully.
She tucks her legs in closer to her body, and I sit down where her feet used to be. The residual heat of her body still warms the cushions, and I lean back, staring at the black sky outside.
“You have a boyfriend,” I say.
“Had,” she answers, straightening up and combing her delicate fingers through her long hair. “Past tense.”
“You broke up?”
“Why do you care?”
“Humor me.”
Rowan stares at me for a long moment, then lets out a breath. “He told me it was him or the job. The company I’ve spent more than half a decade building.” With a bitter snort, she shakes her head. “And, well, I’m here, aren’t I? But judging by your comments, maybe I shouldn’t have chosen work, after all.”
“You’ve been with him for a while,” I say. “You gave up that relationship for one contract?”
Rowan’s eyes narrow. “You seem to know a lot about me and my relationships.”
“Plural?” My eyebrow arches.
Rowan huffs, and I hide a smile. She pushes her hair over her shoulder and stares out the window. The storm is hitting us hard now, throwing its weight against the palace walls. Snow climbs up the bottom of the windows as the wind pushes it against the building.
Finally, Rowan glances at me. “Yes, I chose the contract. I’m an architect, Your Highness. This is my dream. How could I pass up an opportunity to design a royal residence?” She snorts. “Even if it is in the middle of nowhere.”
“You don’t like it up here.”
“Can you blame me?” Rowan sweeps her hand toward the window. The storm rages in response. “This place is about as hospitable as the bottom of the ocean.”
“How can you think to redesign this castle if you don’t understand the landscape?” There’s an edge to my voice. Why do I care? Why do I want her to see the beauty of this place? Why do I want her to like it here?
Rowan swings her eyes to meet mine. She drops her gaze, letting out a long breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I spent the evening reading about Nord and the history of the Summer Palace. I had no idea about any of it before I started working on the design.” She bites her lip. “I should have done more research. Grandma told me stories and I knew the broad strokes of the history, but there’s so much I didn’t realize.”
“My ancestors united dozens of small villages and tribes that lived in this area,” I say. “I think what my sister meant, when she said she wanted to retain the historic details of this castle, is that she wants to honor all the people who have come together to create Nord. There’s been…unrest in Nord lately. My sister needs unity.”
Rowan doesn’t understand that. She doesn’t understand that changing this palace into a destination, as she called it earlier, won’t honor the fractured relationships and century-long resentments that have festered within certain groups. She doesn’t see this palace as a symbol of the kingdom’s harmony.
But as Rowan reaches for a book, flipping to a bookmark, her smile makes me still. She shows me an image of the visitor’s cottage how it was when it was first built. A true palace, where court 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.”
