(KBTCM) Ch 24: The Slow Path To Her Happiness!

Rowena's cheeks hadn't cooled the entire walk to the kitchen. Every step echoed softly down the marble hallway, but it was the heat in her f

Rowena's cheeks hadn't cooled the entire walk to the kitchen.

Every step echoed softly down the marble hallway, but it was the heat in her face that distracted her more than anything. She kept her gaze down as she walked, hands clutched in front of her like she was trying to hide something from the guards—even though she was a princess, and no one would dare question her.

He came to check on me, she thought again, her lips curling unconsciously into a smile.

She stepped into the kitchen, thankful it was empty for now. With practiced ease, she made her way to the cabinet and pulled out a small cluster of fruit—deep red plums and thick-skinned apricots. She cupped a silver cup in her hand, rolled up her sleeves, and began squeezing the fruit between her fingers. The juice dripped steadily into the cup, sweet and fragrant. It wasn't perfect—there was a seed or two in there—but it was the best she could do on short notice.

"Hey honey," came a familiar voice from behind.

Rowena almost dropped the plum.

She spun around and saw her mother, Aelira, walking gracefully into the room in her soft green house gown, her long silver-blonde hair braided over one shoulder. There was that same warm smile she always wore—part knowing, part gentle.

"Hi, Mom," Rowena said, trying to play it cool, which only made her voice come out too casual.

"I ran into Lyra earlier," Aelira said as she wandered over to the counter and started sorting through a basket of herbs. "She told me about the wedding plans. I told her to give her my regards."

"Will do," Rowena said quickly, glancing back to her juice like it was the most important thing in the world.

For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence. The quiet type that only existed between people who didn't need to fill it. Aelira chopped something gently on the wooden board while Rowena stood awkwardly, staring at her half-full cup, the fruit sticky in her fingers.

Then, without turning around, Rowena asked quietly, "Mom... what would you think if I met a boy I liked?"

The sound of the knife stopped.

Aelira glanced over her shoulder, her brows raised slightly. "I thought you weren't really thinking about romance yet."

Rowena shrugged, suddenly feeling twelve years old again. "Things... might've changed."

There was a beat.

Aelira turned fully now, her expression shifting into something softer. "That's not a bad thing," she said. "Just take it slow. Don't rush into anything just because it feels exciting right now."

"I'm not rushing," Rowena said quickly. Then, after a breath, she added, "But... he's not like the others. He's not a noble or anything. He's from Grelling Row."

Aelira raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a leap from your usual company."

"I know," Rowena admitted, eyes falling back to the juice in her hand. "I just... he's kind. And brave. And honest in a way that I'm not used to. And I don't care where he's from."

Aelira smiled, then crossed the room and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Rowena, what matters most is your happiness. Not mine. Not your father's. Yours."

Rowena blinked a few times, then nodded. "Thanks, Mom."

Aelira began to head for the door, but before she left the kitchen, she paused in the doorway, turned halfway back, and asked with a smirk, "So... when can I expect grandchildren?"

Rowena nearly dropped the cup again. She turned a deep, bright red and whipped around. "Mom! We're nowhere near that! I just asked if you'd be mad!"

Aelira laughed gently. "I'm just saying, it's good to plan ahead."

"What happened to taking things slow?!" Rowena huffed, raising the cup in one hand like it could shield her from the conversation.

Still chuckling, Aelira waved a hand and left the room.

Rowena stared after her for a long second, then sighed and looked down at the cup of juice in her hand. The blush hadn't faded—not even close. But the smile crept back onto her face anyway.

She turned toward the hall.

Rowena slipped into her room, closing the tall doors behind her with a soft click. The light from the tall windows cast golden stripes across the floor, warming the plush rugs and carved furniture. She walked carefully, cup in hand, trying not to spill any of the juice she'd freshly squeezed—and trying even harder not to let her heart start racing again.

She found Kerren exactly where she left him—standing at the edge of her nightstand, craning his neck to look around the enormous space that made up her bedroom. His shirt was a little dusty, and his hair was tousled in that way it always was, like he'd just climbed something he probably shouldn't have.

Rowena smiled softly and knelt beside the stand, bringing her hand close.

"Alright," she said, lifting the cup gently. "Hope you're still thirsty."

She held her fingers level with the rim of the cup, and Kerren stepped onto her index finger without hesitation, steadying himself with both arms as the warmth of her skin radiated up through his boots.

Rowena had fashioned a straw for him—not a real one, but a thin reed she'd cut and cleaned herself, just for this. She dipped it into the fruit juice and angled the cup carefully as Kerren leaned forward, gripping the edge of the reed with both hands to drink. His eyes widened a bit at the taste, clearly not expecting it to be so sweet or fresh.

She chuckled quietly, watching the way he bent slightly to drink, his boots pressed into the pad of her finger. From her point of view, it was like watching a little bird sip from a petal. Tiny, delicate, and utterly... cute.

Rowena blinked at the word in her own head.

But there it was. He was cute.

When he finally stepped back with a satisfied breath, she gently lifted her hand and set him down on the blanket beside her as she moved to lie back on the bed. The mattress gave a gentle whumpf beneath her weight as she settled in, sighing in relief. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day, and Kerren was the only part of it that made her feel human again.

She tilted her hand again, palm up, inviting.

"Come here," she said softly.

Kerren hesitated just a moment, then crossed the small distance of fabric and climbed onto her chest. He found a comfortable seat right above her heart, where the silk of her casual gown rose and fell gently with each breath. His legs dangled on either side of her collarbone, his hands resting lightly on the curve of her dress.

The quiet lingered again. But it was a good quiet this time.

Rowena looked down at him with a tired but warm smile. "I'm really glad to see you again, you know."

Kerren looked up at her, returning the smile without hesitation. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

She let her head fall back into the pillow, eyes drifting to the ceiling, and the weight of him—light as it was—felt strangely comforting. Like an anchor.

Neither of them said much more after that.

They didn't need to.