Chapter 21: Lady Evelyn

Naya woke slowly, warmth pressing against her skin while sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains. For several seconds she didn’t move, and then she remembered where she was. Ronan’s bed. Her eyes opened fully to find the other side of the mattress empty, which didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

She lay there for a moment, trying hard not to think about the conversation they’d had the day before, about the question she’d asked him and the strange, unreadable way he’d looked at her before answering. More than it should. She still didn’t know what that meant, and she suspected Ronan didn’t either, which somehow made it more irritating rather than less.

"You’re thinking too much about him," she muttered, pushing herself out of bed with a frustrated sigh. The words did nothing to stop her from thinking about him anyway.

After dressing, she found no sign of Mira anywhere. A servant informed her that Mira had been sent to oversee something in the eastern wing and wouldn’t return until later that morning, so Naya decided she could survive without someone reminding her which fork belonged to which course and made her way toward the private dining room instead, mostly because she was hungry and wanted tea.

She had almost reached the doors when laughter drifted out from inside, low and warm and completely unguarded. She frowned, certain for a moment she’d imagined it, until she heard it again. Only one man usually ate breakfast in this part of the palace, and curiosity got the better of her before she could stop herself. She pushed open the doors.

Ronan sat at the table, which wasn’t surprising. The woman sitting beside him was.

She was beautiful in a way that looked effortless, her dark hair falling smoothly over her shoulders, her morning gown elegant enough to make Naya suddenly self-conscious about dressing herself without Mira’s help. But that wasn’t what tightened Naya’s chest.

It was Ronan. He had been laughing, the warmth of it still lingering on his face, his shoulders loose in a way she’d never once seen from him. For a strange moment he didn’t look like the Lycan King at all. He looked like a man enjoying someone’s company.

Then he noticed her, and the smile vanished as quickly as it had come, settling back into the calm mask she knew too well.

The woman turned toward her, eyes moving over Naya slowly before her lips curved into a pleasant smile. "You must be Naya."

"And you are?"

She rose gracefully from her chair. "Lady Evelyn. I’ve known Ronan for most of his life."

Something about the way she said his name, casual and familiar, made Naya’s expression tighten. Not His Majesty. Not the King. Just Ronan.

"Evelyn arrived this morning," Ronan offered, nothing further behind it.

"Clearly," Naya said, and caught the sharp warning flicker across his face, which she chose to ignore entirely.

Evelyn, on the other hand, looked amused. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

Naya glanced around the room. "You’ve taken over breakfast. I’d say you’re doing quite well."

For the first time, Evelyn’s smile shifted, just barely, though Naya noticed it clearly enough.

"Sit down, Naya," Ronan said.

"Was that an invitation or an order?"

His jaw tightened while Evelyn watched the exchange with obvious interest. After a beat, Ronan said, "An invitation," and Naya sat, unfortunately finding the only available seat directly across from Evelyn.

A servant poured her tea, and Evelyn turned back to Ronan almost immediately. "You still hate honey in your tea?"

"I never hated it."

"You threw an entire cup away when you were seventeen."

"That was different."

"How?"

Ronan paused long enough that Naya glanced up, waiting along with Evelyn for the answer. "It was terrible tea," he finally said, and Evelyn laughed, and Ronan smiled again.

Naya stared at him for just a moment, but long enough to notice something she’d never seen before. She had watched him angry, cold, cruel enough to punish her for a crime she never committed. She had seen him jealous and possessive and visibly confused by his own reactions to her. She had never once seen him relaxed like this, smiling without immediately looking like he regretted it.

So this is what he’s like when he actually likes someone, she thought, lowering her eyes to her tea before the thought could settle any deeper than it already had.

Evelyn kept talking easily, dropping small stories from years ago, names Naya had never heard, places Ronan had visited long before he became king. Ronan listened, occasionally correcting her, occasionally rolling his eyes, once even laughing outright again. Naya ate her breakfast and told herself she didn’t care, because why would she, when Ronan had made his position on their marriage perfectly clear from the very beginning. If he wanted to laugh with another woman over breakfast, that was entirely his business.

Still, she found herself wishing Evelyn would stop talking, and the thought annoyed her enough that she took a larger bite than necessary.

"I was surprised when I heard Ronan had married," Evelyn said eventually, turning toward her again.

"So was I," Naya said.

Evelyn smiled a moment longer before adding, "Especially so soon after Seraphine."

The air at the table shifted instantly. Naya’s fingers tightened around her fork while Ronan’s expression went carefully blank across from her. There it was, the first real move, delivered gently and politely but clearly meant to draw a reaction.

Naya set her fork down. "I imagine surprises have been difficult for everyone lately."

"Some more than others," Evelyn said, still smiling.

Naya held her gaze without flinching, refusing to be the one who looked away first, not for another woman hoping the mention of Seraphine would make her crumble.

"Naya," Ronan said quietly, his expression asking her to let it go.

She leaned back slightly. "Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to ruin breakfast."

Evelyn watched her with something closer to quiet study than offense, which somehow felt worse. Ronan changed the subject before either of them could continue, explaining that Evelyn’s family had business with the crown.

"Is that why you’re here?" Naya asked.

"My father has been discussing a few matters with the council," Evelyn said.

"And you’ll be staying?"

"For a few days."

Naya looked at Ronan. "A few days?"

"Her family has business with the crown," he repeated, and Naya gave him a look sharp enough to answer for her.

The conversation carried on, though Naya stopped bothering to participate, uninterested in hearing more stories about Ronan’s youth or the years he’d apparently spent somewhere far from this palace. She felt suddenly like an outsider at her own breakfast table, and the thought irritated her the moment she had it. It wasn’t her table. None of this was hers, not the palace, not the title, and certainly not Ronan.

She was staring into her cup when Evelyn reached over and touched Ronan’s arm lightly, laughing at something he’d said. It looked practiced, comfortable, like something she’d done many times before. Naya dropped her eyes and reached for her tea, missing the moment Ronan shifted his arm away.

But Evelyn didn’t miss it, and the silence that followed drew Naya’s attention back up. Ronan’s arm was no longer beneath Evelyn’s hand, and his eyes had settled on Naya instead.

"What?" Naya asked.

"Nothing."

"You’re staring."

"So are you."

Her brows rose. "I was not."

His expression gave nothing away, and Evelyn slowly lifted her cup, watching them both with unreadable interest. Naya looked away first, appetite suddenly gone.

"I have things to do," she said, standing before Ronan could argue.

"You haven’t finished eating."

"I’m not hungry anymore."

Evelyn glanced up at her. "It was lovely meeting you, Naya."

"I’m sure it was," Naya said, and walked out without looking back, missing the way Ronan’s eyes followed her all the way to the door, and missing, just as completely, the way Evelyn’s eyes followed Ronan instead.

The doors closed. Silence settled over the dining room for several long seconds before Evelyn finally set her cup down.

"You never used to move away when I touched you."

"Things change," Ronan said coldly.

Evelyn’s smile faded. "Do they?"

He stood. "Why are you really here, Evelyn?"

She watched him carefully before answering. "I could ask you the same thing, Ronan. Why did you marry her?"