“Noted.” Faith lifted the glass and took a careful sip. The wine was rich and complex, with undertones of fruit she couldn’t identify and a warmth that spread through her chest like liquid confidence. “It’s delicious.”
“Good.” His pale eyes held hers across the table, and for a moment, the careful politeness faltered. Something raw and hungry flickered in his gaze before he shuttered it behind princely composure. “I hope you find the food equally agreeable.”
Dinner arrived in courses that showcased Nova Aurora’s cuisine—flavors richer and more complex than anything on Earth, and spices that made her tongue tingle with unfamiliarheat. Their conversation started stiff and formal, dancing around the obvious questions neither of them seemed ready to ask.
Then Kovrak surprised her.
“Tell me about your bakery,” he said, cutting into what looked like perfectly seasoned meat. “What made you want to start your own business?”
Not a polite inquiry. A real question, delivered with the kind of focus that suggested he actually cared about the answer. Faith found herself relaxing despite the formal setting, the wine and his genuine interest loosening the knots in her chest.
“Creative control,” she said simply. “I worked at a premier restaurant for years—good money, steady hours, all the security I thought I wanted. But they never gave me credit for my recipes. Everything I created became theirs, and I was just the baker who executed someone else’s vision.”
Kovrak’s jaw tightened. “That’s theft.”
“Legally, it wasn’t. I signed contracts that gave them ownership of anything I developed on company time. But it felt like theft.” Faith took another sip of wine, the warmth making it easier to voice things she’d never said aloud. “My mother thought I was being impractical when I left. Said I should be grateful for the steady paycheck and stop chasing fantasies. My ex-boyfriend agreed with her.”
“They were wrong.” The certainty in his voice made her chest flutter. “Building something yourself requires courage. Most people don’t have it.”
When was the last time someone had called her brave instead of reckless? When had anyone looked at her dreams and seen strength instead of foolishness?
“What about you?” Faith asked, deflecting before the compliment could settle too deeply. “What’s it like being a prince?”
Kovrak’s expression shifted, becoming more guarded. “Heavy expectations. Little room for error.” He paused, seeming to weigh his words. “I lost my parents when I was eight. My uncle Merral raised me after that, but he’s... traditional. Duty before desire. Order before comfort. It was necessary training, but it didn’t leave much space for being a child.”
Faith’s heart clenched unexpectedly. Behind the controlled authority and perfect posture was a man who’d learned to carry the world before he’d learned to carry himself. “I’m sorry. That must have been incredibly difficult.”
“It was what it was.” But something in his voice suggested it had been more than that.
The conversation continued through the remaining courses, layers of politeness peeling away as the wine worked its magic. Faith found herself cataloging details—the way his eyes softened when he talked about his few memories of his parents, how his hands moved with unconscious grace, and the precise way he spoke that suggested words were weapons he’d learned to wield carefully.
Then she asked the question that changed everything.
“Why haven’t you married yet? You seem like a great catch.”
Kovrak’s posture tightened, his wine glass freezing halfway to his lips. The easy warmth that had been building between them cooled by several degrees.
“I have not found the right woman,” he said carefully.
But Faith caught the evasion, the way his gaze shifted slightly left. There was more to the story.
“Twenty years of royal festivals,” he continued, his voice taking on a bitter edge. “Twenty years of women who wanted the crown, not the man wearing it.”
Faith’s chest tightened. “And you can’t become king until you marry?”
“Until I mate and propose, yes.” The admission came out flat and resigned. “Ancient pride law. A leader without a visible future is considered unstable.”
Mate.The word hit her like ice water, carrying implications she wasn’t ready to examine. Her pulse kicked up as she remembered the electric shock of their handshake, the way his eyes had darkened when he’d looked at her. The careful way Gerri had avoided mentioning certain details about this arrangement.
“So this week...” Faith’s voice came out smaller than intended.
“This week cannot fail the way the others did.” Kovrak’s pale eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw and desperate. “My people are losing patience. My rivals are circling. If I don’t secure my future soon...”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but Faith heard the unspoken consequences anyway. Political upheaval. Challenges to his authority. Everything he’d worked for crumbling because he couldn’t find a woman who wanted him for himself rather than his title.
Is this a trial run for her?
The question lodged in her throat, too dangerous to voice. She shouldn’t care about the romance implications. She was here to do a job and secure her future—not to get swept into some love story where she played the role of salvation for a lonely prince.