Selene hesitated.
"Well… he didn't exactly speak."
Hailey blinked. "He didn't speak?"
"He nodded," Selene clarified quickly. "But it wasn't a distant nod. It was deliberate."
My throat felt strangely tight.
Selene continued, clearly filling in the silence with feeling.
"He held my gaze for a moment. As though measuring something. And then he inclined his head — slowly — before walking past."
Hailey tilted her head. "That's it?"
Selene shot her an indignant look. "You weren't there."
Hailey held up her hands. "Fair."
Selene's voice softened dreamily. "It wasn't just courtesy. I know the difference. He could have ignored me entirely. But he didn't."
I forced my expression to remain neutral.
He could have ignored me entirely.
He had not ignored me in the garden either.
He had stepped closer.
Spoken quietly.
Warned me.
Had that meant something?
Or was he simply thorough?
A prince surveying each possibility.
Selene leaned closer to me now.
"I think he's observing us individually," she whispered. "Not just publicly. Quietly."
Hailey considered that. "Strategic."
Selene smiled faintly. "Intentional."
My mind replayed the moonlit garden.
The water.
The way he had said, You should be careful.
Had that been intentional?
Or merely another measured interaction?
"If he's assessing temperament," Hailey said thoughtfully, "then private encounters reveal more than staged councils."
Selene nodded eagerly. "Exactly."
My gaze dropped to her parchment.
If he walked corridors and nodded thoughtfully at every candidate…
If he paused deliberately before each one…
If he studied them all in shadowed halls and moonlit gardens…
Then I had not been singular.
I had been scheduled.
Observed.
Categorized.
My jaw tightened slightly.
Selene's voice softened. "Do you think it means anything?"
Hailey shrugged. "It means he has eyes."
Selene looked at me.
The question lingered between them.
I lifted my gaze slowly.
"It means," I said evenly, "that he is doing precisely what a future king should."
Selene's smile brightened. "So you agree?"
"I agree," I replied calmly, "that no gesture from a prince is accidental."
Selene practically glowed.
Hailey, however, studied me more closely than before.
"You sound almost…" Hailey paused. "Detached."
I offered a small, careful smile.
"It is wise to assume we are all being weighed equally."
The words tasted faintly bitter.
Selene leaned back, clearly content. "Still. It felt different."
I said nothing.
Because if it felt different to Selene…
Then perhaps it had felt different to me only because he had wanted it to.
The preparation hall buzzed on around me — parchment rustling, ambitions sharpening, alliances forming.
But something quiet had shifted inside me.
Not jealousy.
Not yet.
Something colder.
A correction.
If he met each of them privately —If he nodded in corridors and lingered in gardens —If every interaction was part of a silent evaluation —
Then I would not allow myself to misread significance again.
And yet…
Despite that resolve…
When my thoughts drifted to moonlight and damp linen,
My pulse still betrayed me.
The preparation hall gradually thinned as the afternoon waned.
Candidates gathered their parchments in small, guarded clusters. Alliances dissolved into private rehearsals. Even Selene, glowing from her retelling, eventually excused herself to refine her opening statement once more.
Hailey lingered only long enough to give me one last searching look.
"Don't disappear into your thoughts," she said lightly.
I smiled. "I never do."
It was not entirely true.
When at last I stood alone, I gathered the grain ledgers and tucked them beneath my arm.
The library.
The one place where noise receded.
The one place that had not felt like a performance.
I moved quietly through the corridors, my steps measured, my expression composed. Servants passed with lowered heads. Courtiers murmured in alcoves.
My mind replayed Selene's words.
It felt different.
Perhaps it had.
Perhaps she had imagined depth where there had been none.
A prince nodding in a corridor.
A prince stepping into a garden.
A prince speaking in low tones to any candidate he deemed worth examining.
My fingers tightened slightly around the ledgers.
As I approached the eastern wing, voices drifted from the adjoining council antechamber — low, male, unguarded in the way powerful men often were when they believed no one of consequence lingered nearby.
I slowed.
Not enough to be obvious.
Just enough.
"…advantage," one voice muttered.
I recognized it vaguely — a senior court minister, though I could not place the name.
Another voice responded with a soft chuckle. "It is hardly subtle."
"Elaborate," the first pressed.
A pause.
Then, casually —
"Lady Arabella Virec has had more private hours with His Highness than any of the others."
My steps faltered.
Only slightly.
I did not stop walking.
But she listened.
"They share blood," the second voice continued. "Distant though it may be. Access comes easily."
"And the preparation?"
"He has reviewed her frameworks personally."
A quiet laugh.
"Hardly impartial."
"Kings are rarely impartial," came the dry reply.
My pulse began to beat harder — not fast, but deep.
"He values her counsel," the first voice added. "Or perhaps simply her proximity."
"And the other girls?"
"Observations," the second voice dismissed lightly. "Polite interest. But Lady Arabella? She has the advantage."
Footsteps shifted, chairs scraping faintly against marble.
Silence followed.
I resumed my pace fully now, turning the corridor without betraying her expression.
My face remained calm.
My spine straight.
My hands steady.
But something inside me had gone very, very still.
Private hours.
Reviewed frameworks personally.
Advantage.
So that was the shape of it.
Selene's nod in a corridor.
My own moonlit garden encounter.
Observations.
Polite interest.
And Arabella?
Access.
Guidance.
Preparation.
A slow heat began to coil beneath my composure.
Not heartbreak.
Not even jealousy.
Insult.
I had not wanted the crown.
I had not sought his attention.
But I would not be made a fool of.
Had he walked those gardens knowing he was already refining another woman's council?
Had he spoken softly in moonlight after reviewing Arabella's strategies by daylight?
My jaw tightened.
I reached the library doors and pushed them open more firmly than usual.
The vast chamber greeted me in silence.
Candles flickered gently along the walls.
Shelves towered in dignified quiet.
I crossed to my usual table and set down the ledgers with controlled precision.