The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Seventeen - Charlotte ❦

The evening air in the palace is cool, almost too cool for the delicate fabric of my dress. I tug my shawl tighter around my shoulders, wondering why I didn't bring something warmer. I should have known better; I'm always cold. But I'm also always unprepared for situations like this—dates, or whatever you want to call these awkward encounters with the choosing contestants.

Rylan walks beside me, tall and broad-shouldered, his presence almost too much for the narrow hallways of the palace. I keep glancing up at him, trying to gauge his mood, trying to find some common ground to start a conversation, but all I can think about is how much he towers over me. At 5'2", I'm used to looking up at people, but Rylan is different. He's 6'2", with a build that makes me feel like I'm walking next to a statue—cold, hard, and unmovable.

"So, what kind of movies do you like?" he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is deep, but there's a casualness to it that grates on my nerves. He acts like this is just another ordinary date, like he's not on trial for my hand in marriage. Like I'm not the future queen.

"I'm into historical dramas," I reply, trying to keep my tone light. "I like stories with depth, you know?"

He chuckles, and the sound is dismissive. "Sounds boring. I prefer action. Something with a bit of excitement. Dragons, swords, that kind of thing."

Of course he does. I force a smile, hoping it doesn't look as fake as it feels. "Right, well, maybe we can find something that has a bit of both."

We arrive at the small, private movie theatre tucked away in one of the palace's many wings. The room is dimly lit, the flickering candles casting long shadows on the velvet-covered walls. It's a cosy space, meant to be intimate, but all I feel is a growing sense of dread. The silence between us stretches on as we scan the list of available films. Every suggestion I make is met with a noncommittal shrug or a flat-out rejection.

"How about The Queen's Gambit?" I suggest, trying to sound enthusiastic. "It's got intrigue, strategy, and it's based on a real story."

"Pass," he says, not even looking at the title. "What about The Dragon's Wrath? It's about this knight who—"

I cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest. "Why don't we get some fresh air instead? It's a beautiful night."

Rylan hesitates, then nods, clearly not enthused by the idea but willing to go along with it. We leave the theatre, and I lead him up a winding staircase to the palace rooftop. It's one of my favourite places, a sanctuary where I can escape the constant demands of my life, where the sky stretches out in every direction and the stars feel close enough to touch.

The night is crisp, the air tinged with the scent of blooming jasmine from the gardens below. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the evening. But as we step onto the rooftop, the mood shifts. There's something about the way Rylan moves, the way his eyes darken as he looks at me, that sets my nerves on edge.

"This is nice," he says, his voice low, almost predatory. "Just the two of us."

I nod, forcing another smile. "Yes, it is. It's always good to get some space, some peace."

But before I can say anything else, Rylan steps closer, his hand brushing against my arm. It's meant to be casual, I'm sure, but there's nothing casual about the way he's looking at me now. His eyes are fixed on me, hungry, and suddenly the vastness of the rooftop feels claustrophobic.

"Rylan," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "what are you doing?"

He doesn't answer, not with words. Instead, his hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer to him. "God, you're so hot," he mutters, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath, mingling with the scent of his cologne—too strong, too much.