“The way you looked at the Princess’s mother, Lady Emeria,” Michael said with a firm certainty. “I do believe nobody has put that kind of look in your eyes since the day you wandered off as the Crown Prince.” He folded his arms with a smirk. “In assuming the little Princess Delilah is nearly ten and her mother a commoner, I’ll take a guess and say Lady Emeria was the one you met that day, too.”

Owen didn’t need to correct him, as nothing he said was wrong. All of it was, in fact, true. Emeria would always hold a special place in his heart, though it came not from the second they met, but from the hours spent with one another. Even if those hours had been limited and fleeting, no other time had felt so rich to him.

“Right.” He glanced over at Michael who was giving him an odd look, one he could immediately put a name to, noting the raised brow. Owen shook his head. “It wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking.”

“Oh?” Unconvinced, Michael shook his head, lips curving up higher. “And that is?”

“That I sought her out.”

The other brow joined the first, rising high, bringing a short laugh out of Owen. Clearly, he didn’t believe him.

“Don’t make that face. It’s true,” he started with a shrug. “I didn’t go looking for her. I’d never seen her before that day. But…” Owen sighed, a small grin brightening his features as he recalled the very moment their paths first crossed. “I’m really glad I found her again after all this time. I’m glad it was her from the start.”

Somehow, as if they’d both been sneakily trying to hide from pursuers, Emeria and Owen had turned around the same corner all those years ago. They’d thrown each other off balance, reaching for each other to steady themselves and the one they bumped into. Once their confusion cleared, they just stared at each other in the odd silence, amazed at who they’d come across. Attracted. Her eyes were so wide in that moment, drawing him in, luring him into curiosity.

He hadn’t questioned why she might’ve been looking back while walking around, not when she explained she was new to the Capital. Who wouldn’t look around? But, since he’d spotted some familiar faces, he quickly set them off on a different path, the two of them wandering about together.

“Shall I put her in the rotation?”

Michael’s voice cut through the memory of that day, startling him, almost as much as the words themselves, once they registered in his mind.

Spend the night with her?

Again?

Clearing his throat, he avoided his aide’s growing grin.

It would be fine, he thought to himself. It wasn’t like he was planning anything. He just wanted to hear more about their daughter, about her as well. Being with them all day long was impossible for him. His duties would get in the way of that. He wasn’t a prince anymore. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to run from being the King of Felshare, of taking care of his people.

Even so, he wanted to ask Emeria questions in private. His heart ached to know her better, to learn of her past, her present, everything.

Having the opportunity to chat with her was precious. The corner of his mouth curved up at the thought.

It would be nice.

Something he’d been yearning for – a chance to speak with her again. To joke around, reminiscing about old memories and create new ones. Together.

“Uh… I guess. Might as well. Sure.” Then he stopped, pausing as his mind ceased drifting over the potential moments ahead of him. He pointed his finger at Michael after a few seconds. “Only if she agrees.”

Seeing the glaringly obvious look he was getting, Owen lifted his glass to his lips in avoidance.

“Alright,” Michael said happily, a cheeky grin rising on his face. “I wonder, will it be a little prince next?”

Midway through drinking his water, Owen spewed liquid at the question. He coughed a few times and glared exasperatedly at his aide.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

His sharp gaze met a smile.

“Of course not. I was just curious.”

“Can you contain some of that curiosity within your head?” Owen sighed. “You don’t have to say it aloud like that.”

“I’ll attempt to contain myself just a little.”

“Try more than a little.”

“We’ll see.”

“Michael.”

At Owen’s exasperated reply, Michael shrugged.

“I’ll try my best, Your Majesty. But even I have a hard time containing myself sometimes.”

“Mhm.”

But even with Owen’s less than enthusiastic hummed response, despite what some might’ve called an argument between them, they both wore smiles on their faces through the banter. Their relationship was one of friendship, as they knew the depth of their reliance on one another ran deeper than mere loyalty and duty, as their jobs required. Who else could they speak with about their opinions of sensitive matters?

The comfortable atmosphere remained at least until a guest showed up. A knock preceded the name called from outside the door. Humor wiped from their bodies, Owen nodded for Michael to allow entrance and took a deep breath himself.

Ariana, dressed as she always was, in jewels and expensive finery that shimmered blindingly with every breath she took, stepped in the room with a subtle smile. Unbeknownst to the Queen, seeing the shameless bedazzling and expensive taste she always had made Owen feel sick to his stomach.

He hadn’t expected her to come and check up on them, though. Masking his concern and confusion with a mild expression, Owen nodded to her question.

“Yes. The samples are already being processed. It won’t be long until things are confirmed.”

“I see."

Years of controlling High Society had her expression just as concealed as his, but the tension, at least from an insider on their dynamic, was palpable in their words alone. Michael’s gaze flicked between the two as he stood silently next to Owen’s desk. He’d been present enough for their conversations.

“And after Delilah is proven to indeed be my child, there will be a ceremony.”

There was no hesitation, no question in his words. With certainty, Owen was telling of something he knew. Delilah was his child. There was no doubt in his mind. He trusted Emeria, and he saw for himself the little resemblances that ran in his family line. Of course, nothing was impossible, but he just knew.

Ariana could see it for herself, on his face, the complete confirmation of Delilah’s parentage. She hid her annoyance behind a smile, curving her eyes as she questioned him.

“A ceremony? I wasn’t informed. I’m sure I’ll be able to put something worthy of royal status together, despite the lack of time.”

“No.”

She froze hearing that one syllable, just one word.

“No?”

Owen nodded, appearing busy as he flipped over one of the pages on his desk, catching Michael’s eye. His aide walked over briskly and took the sheet, looking it over. When Owen pointed at one of the lines written there, he understood immediately what was concerning. He nodded and made a note on a separate page, attaching it to the first before setting it in another pile on the desk.

“Michael and I are handling it,” Owen finally said.

There was meaning behind his words, something each of them in the room understood in an instant. Ariana grit her teeth and tilted her head.

“Why? Are you taking my duties from me? I’m in charge of such things,” she snapped back at him. “I’m the Queen, aren’t I?”

A thinly veiled question. If Ariana were to no longer have duties in the palace, what would that leave for her? Would she still be Queen, or was he already trying to replace her? Ariana didn’t know the answers, but she couldn’t have her place and power threatened. Not by anyone, especially not a commoner and her child, regardless of the child’s relations.

“I assumed you wouldn’t be ecstatic setting up a ceremony for them.”

Owen’s gaze met hers, not containing any sort of warmth. In fact, it lacked all emotion, sending Ariana’s mind tumbling once more. Wasn’t it still a threat though? She pasted on a smile, her eye twitching.

“I’m sure I would have done just fine. After all,” she began to say, her expression falling to one near the opposite of her cherry tone. “Any child of yours is a child of mine.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Owen wasn’t smiling. He stared at her, silently telling her how much he believed those sugared words.

Ariana’s smile faded as she excused herself and left the room hastily. There was somewhere she needed to go, something she needed to do.

After all, she was the Queen.

Nobody could dare to take her place.

It was a day later that the ladies within the palace were gathered together around a elegantly decorated table. Blooming flowers in centerpiece vases lit up the space with vibrant color. Purple and bright yellow. Green, red, and white. Beautifully preserved dry white roses lay in a ring around the bases of the vases, hiding the point in which the glass touched the table.

Despite the lively décor and color, there was a tension hanging in the air around the attendees. The host, with a delicate smile, lifted her teacup to her lips as the last of them arrived.

When one of them paused in their steps upon seeing the arrangement, the corners of her mouth lifted higher. Their eyes met, with a deep understanding.

So, Ariana though to herself, this commoner was no fool. Though it might be a bit more of a challenge to get rid of her, she had to be eliminated regardless. And this little tea party?

She took a sip of her tea with graceful hands.

It was a chance to put a dent in so-called Lady Emeria’s high hopes for a lofty position in the palace.