As early as dawn, a local carriage pulled up in front of the palace. The first to step down was Rowan, who then turned to help his lady. He waited with his hand stretched forward, unwilling to grab her by the waist and risk getting the beating of his life. She'd already warned him not to touch her, and ever since they were inside the carriage, the girl had refused to utter a word to him.
Freya peeked out, seeing Rowan's hand waiting for her to hold. She rolled her eyes before slipping her palm into his. When her feet touched the ground, she flipped her hair and walked straight inside the palace without turning to look at Rowan.
"That's my lady, she's one hell of a tempest in silk," Rowan smiled. "Isn't she fit for the stage with her emotional excesses?" he asked, tossing two crown coins to the coachman, who was nodding and smiling at his words.
