Falling for her highness

꧁Rowen's pov꧂

The study doors closed with a soft thud behind me, shutting out the world beyond the carved oak. Sunlight filtered through high-arched windows, casting long shadows across the shelves of ancient books and scrolls. The fire crackled low, perfuming the room with the scent of cedar and smoke.

The King stood by the hearth, hands clasped behind his back, still in his deep crimson robes. His crown had been set aside on a nearby pedestal—this was a conversation between a man and a boy, not ruler and subject. Or so it would seem.

"Sit, Rowen," the King said without looking at me.

I obeyed, settling into the high-backed chair opposite the fire. I sat stiffly, not meeting the King's eyes.

For a moment, there was only the faint ticking of the timepiece on the mantel.

"I saw your restraint at the table," the King said at last. "I commend it."

I said nothing.

The King turned to face me fully now, his gaze sharp, cutting straight through my silence. "But I also heard about what happened earlier by the stream."

My jaw clenched. "He pushed."

"And you shoved back," the King finished. "Not the worst thing a boy has done in defense of something—or someone he cares about. But it's a dangerous slope when you let emotion lead your hand."

I finally looked up. "He was insulting her. And me."

"Yes," the King said simply. "And he knew exactly how to get under your skin. And you let him."

I exhaled shakily, hands curled on my knees. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"But you did." The King stepped closer, voice lower. "You hurt her, Rowen. Not with your fists—but by ignoring her voice. She asked you to stop. You didn't."

I looked away.

The silence stretched.

"You know I've always trusted you," the King said, more gently now. "I let you stay here. I gave you a place beside my daughter—not as a servant, but as family."

"I've never forgotten that," I whispered.

"Then you must understand what I say next," the King said, settling across from me, eyes meeting mine fully now. "It's time for you to choose the kind of man you want to become."

My heart pounded.

"I've arranged for you to begin training formally with the royal military," the King continued. "Officers' track. You'll leave in two weeks."

My eyes widened. "Leave? In two weeks?"

The King nodded once. "To the capital. For some few years, at least. You'll train with others your age, under men I trust."

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

I didn't know what to say, didn't know I was leaving so soon.

"You were never going to stay a boy in the shadow of the palace forever, you said that," the King said, more softly. "This was always coming. And you need distance, Rowen. From her. From all of this."

"I don't want distance from Evelynne yet," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

The King's gaze didn't waver. "Which is exactly why you need it. You choose this path, Rowen."

I lowered my eyes, throat tightening. "She doesn't even know."

"She can't know," the King said quietly. "Not yet. Or she'll try to stop you. And I won't allow that."

The fire snapped softly behind us. The weight of the truth pressed down like stone.

"You'll make me proud, Rowen," the King said, standing. "But more importantly—you'll prove something to yourself."

I stood slowly. Nodding once. "Yes, Your Majesty."

As I left the room, the doors closed behind me with a gentle click. I carried a thousand words I couldn't say and the echo of Evelynne's voice, still pleading—stop—lingering in his ears.

******

The sunlight was thick and warm, filtering through the ancient oak's canopy like honey poured through glass. The leaves rustled in the wind, whispering memories into the air. Beneath that old tree, Evelynne stood in soft laughter, her eyes glowing as she spoke to Rye.

I saw them from the stone path—saw the ease in Evelynne's smile, the light touch of her hand against Rye's arm, the way Rye tilted his head just enough to watch her like she was something rare. Precious.

That used to be me.

My steps slowed, heart thudding in my chest. Something ugly twisted in my gut as I watched Rye lean in slightly and say something low. Evelynne giggled—a laugh so familiar to me it hurt.

My fists clenched before I even realized it.

I strode forward, each step heavier than the last.

"Evelynne," I said, not loud, but sharp.

She looked up at once, surprised. "Rowy, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly," I muttered. My eyes slid to Rye. "I thought you were resting."

"I was," she said slowly, "but Rye asked if I wanted to walk, and—"

"You said you wanted to spend the afternoon in the stables," I cut in, eyes still locked on Rye. "I waited."

"I forgot," she said, unsure. "I didn't think it was a promise…"

Rye straightened beside her, folding his arms. "You don't own her time, Rowen."

My stare sharpened. "And you don't belong here."

Rye smiled thinly. "You keep saying that, but the King seems to disagree. So does Evelynne."

I stepped closer. My voice dropping. "You're doing this on purpose."

Rye tilted his head, all mockery. "Doing what? Talking to her? Listening when you're not around?"

"I'm warning you—"

"Rowen." Evelynne stepped between us now, her brows drawn together, voice low and firm. "Enough. Both of you."

I blinked, startled by the sudden steel in her voice.

"You don't get to decide who I talk to," she went on, her gaze burning into me. "You don't get to talk through me like I'm not even here."

"I'm not," I said quickly. "Evelynne, I—he's not just talking to you."

Her expression hardened. "And if he is?"

That silenced me.

A tense silence dropped between us as we looked at each other.

Rye stepped forward, just enough to make his presence known. "You're acting like a jealous little boy," he said quietly, only for me to hear. "But it makes sense. You're afraid, aren't you? You know she's slipping away."

My eyes flashed. My body moved before my thoughts could catch up—I took a step forward, fury rising hot in my chest.

But Evelynne caught my arm, fingers tight around my wrist. "Stop!" she said again, eyes searching my face. "Please, Rowen."

And that was what made me freeze. The way she looked at me, like she didn't recognize me. Like I had already disappointed her.

My breath trembled.

Evelynne let go, slowly.

"This isn't who you are," she said softly.

Rye moved beside her then, placing a hand gently on her back. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's take a walk."

She hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then, with one last glance at me—one filled with confusion, sadness, and something I couldn't name—she turned and walked away beside Rye.

I watched them go, the distance between them and me stretching like a wound. I didn't move. I couldn't

The tree's shadow swallowed me whole.