Elowen's POV:
I did not walk back to my chambers.
I fled.
Not running — never that. Ladies did not run through royal corridors. But my steps were far quicker than propriety allowed, and I nearly collided with a passing maid turning the corner.
My pulse had not yet steadied.
"I am exactly where I intended to be."
The words echoed far too clearly in my mind.
Why had he been there?
Why had he spoken to me at all?
And why did it matter?
The corridors of the eastern wing were quieter at this hour. Sunlight streamed through tall arched windows, casting long golden bands across the marble floors. Tapestries depicting ancient battles and royal lineages lined the walls, their embroidered threads glinting faintly.
I pressed my fingers lightly to my cheeks.
Warm.
Ridiculously warm.
"Forgive me—"
A voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts just as I turned another corner.
I looked up.
A young man stood before me, a stack of leather-bound ledgers balanced carefully in his arms. He was dressed in the muted navy and silver trim of palace administration — not nobility, but clearly attached to the court. His dark brown hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he looked scarcely older than I.
"I did not mean to startle you, my lady," he said quickly, adjusting the books. "Are you unwell?"
I blinked, then realized I must look thoroughly undone.
"I am perfectly well," I replied, though my voice lacked conviction.
His gaze softened — not calculating, not assessing like the prince's had been. Simply concerned.
"You look as though you have just outrun a storm," he said gently.
A reluctant laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
"Perhaps I have."
He shifted the ledgers to one arm and bowed slightly. "Thomas Hale, my lady. Junior clerk to the Royal Archives."
Not a grand title.
But he said it with quiet pride.
"Elowen Evermere," I replied, then hesitated. Titles felt cumbersome suddenly. "Of House Evermere."
His eyes brightened in recognition. "One of the candidates."
"Yes."
"Well," he said, glancing around conspiratorially before lowering his voice, "for what it is worth, I believe the palace has not seen such elegance in years."
I stared at him.
"That is an exceedingly biased statement for someone who works within these walls."
"I work with records," he said with a small smile. "Not people. It makes observation easier."
There was no flattery laced with ambition in his tone. No strategic charm.
Only sincerity.
"You should be careful," I said lightly. "If anyone hears you favoring one candidate—"
"I am far too insignificant for my preferences to matter," he replied. "But that does not prevent me from having them."
The warmth returned to my cheeks — though this time it was gentler.
"I hope the storm you outran was not of your own making," he added softly.
His kindness unsettled me in a different way than the prince's intensity had.
"No," I said after a moment. "I do not believe it was."
He nodded, as though that was answer enough.
"I should return these before the Master Archivist notices their absence," he said, stepping back. "But I hope the rest of your day is less… turbulent."
"And yours filled with fewer ledgers," I replied.
He smiled — properly this time.
It was bright.
Uncomplicated.
And when he walked away, he glanced back once — quickly, almost shyly — before disappearing down the corridor.
I stood there longer than necessary.
"Elowen."
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Selene leaned casually against one of the tall windows, pale blue silk cascading around her like a carefully arranged cloud. She had clearly been watching.
"For someone who claims no interest in being seen," she drawled, "you are collecting quite the audience."
"I was not collecting anything," I said, far too quickly.
"Oh?" She arched a delicate brow. "Because from where I stood, the young archivist looked ready to pledge eternal devotion over a stack of dusty records."
"Selene."
She laughed softly and pushed off the wall, circling me once like a cat examining something curious.
"You are flushed," she observed.
"It is warm."
"It is autumn."
I glared at her.
She only smiled wider.
"Be careful, dear sister," she murmured, lowering her voice. "The palace has many eyes. And while a harmless clerk may seem insignificant…"
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"...men notice when other men look."
My breath faltered.
"You assume too much."
"Do I?" she replied sweetly. "Because if I were Crown Prince Kael Viremont, I would not enjoy discovering that one of my candidates was being admired in my own corridors."
I had not considered that.
And the fact that I had not considered it unsettled me most of all.
Selene linked her arm through mine, steering us gently back toward our wing.
"Relax," she whispered, teasing once more. "If nothing else, you may serve as useful distraction."
"Is that all I am to you?" I asked.
"For now?" She smiled ahead, already calculating. "Possibly."
I should have been offended.
Instead, my thoughts drifted — treacherously — to a rose-covered archway in the garden.
And I wondered whether anyone else had been watching that encounter too.