Chapter 22
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Fresh from rescheduling the handkerchief handover with Everette, Carolina returned home and collapsed halfway onto her bed, kicking her legs in a frenzy of agitation.
She pressed her face deep into the pillow, releasing a muffled cry until the storm inside subsided. Rising with care to keep her footwear clear of the bedding, she began circling her cramped quarters restlessly.
A flicker of hope stirred within her—this surely counted as encouragement, didn’t it? Her bold move now sparked regret, leaving her anxious about coming across too boldly unaware.
Her feelings swung wildly from one extreme to the next, turning her into a whirlwind of disorder.
Persistent encounters would clarify matters eventually, she reasoned.
Perched at her battered desk, she tousled her locks in irritation, then resolved to soothe herself with an early retreat to slumber.
Prioritizing rest offered mere avoidance.
Surplus elation from the thrill roused her well before dawn.
Her usual preparations wrapped up swiftly, leaving ample hours to spare. After weighing options, she opted for an early arrival at the office.
Tackling backlog seemed practical enough.
She bypassed public transport on purpose, choosing to trek there on foot. Even so, the workspace stood deserted upon her entry.
She prepared a robust brew and settled at her station.
The first taste barely passed her lips when the entrance burst ajar, admitting Connie.
“Already at your post, Rina?”
Spotting her solitude, Connie flung her arms high in exuberant greeting.
Carolina offered a modest flick of her hand in reply, yet Connie surged forward without pause.
A sly sparkle lit her features, wicked enough to prompt an instinctive backward shuffle.
Carolina yielded ground as Connie pressed on, only for her to snag an elbow in a firm clasp.
“Sleep evaded me entirely from sheer intrigue yesterday.”
That edge in her voice set Carolina on immediate alert.
“The fellow accompanying you by the fountain-side eatery—who might he be?”
Her grip tightened like a captor’s on prey.
Everette Rojas topped the list of suspects beyond doubt, though Carolina played coy.
“Withholding from me these days, Rina?”
Releasing her hold, Connie planted fists akimbo, puffing out a theatrical pout.
“Proof exists aplenty. Recall Heather, my old neighbor? A local eyewitness filled her in.”
“Meaning you, naturally—Heather resides temple-adjacent.”
“Precisely my point. Witnesses abound, so spill it.”
Carolina exhaled heavily, inwardly lamenting how fate singled out Connie for this discovery.
“Surely that’s Knight Everette Rojas?”
Connie’s intuition cut straight to the mark.
“Romantic involvement?”
She leaped to assumptions without a beat.
Carolina held back until the fervor ebbed, then offered a guarded rebuttal.
“Far from it.”
“So a secluded romantic venue, holiday outing for two, and no romance brewing?”
Connie’s probe echoed the precision of palace guards from her brief stint in custody.
Relentless in pursuit.
“Shared dinners turning lovers? I’d be entangled with the whole school then.”
Carolina refused to yield ground lightly.
No true attachment existed regardless.
“None involved couple’s platters at such intimate spots with your classmates.”
For an instant, Carolina suspected tailing, her body tensing as Connie nailed their exact order.
Catching the flinch, Connie’s grin turned predatory once more.
“Confirming the couple’s platter then?”
A mere hunch on her part, amplified by Carolina’s telltale slip.
Had Connie mastered questioning during her lockup, or dominated it outright?
Blame surged toward Duke Camelot anew.
Had he avoided scandal, her skills would lag, shielding that dinner from scrutiny.
Dodges proved pointless in the end.
“Ah, Miss Carolina Diaz, gaze drifting afar—dreaming of Knight Everette?”
“Deny it outright!”
Carolina’s retort flew sharp; Connie dissolved into chuckles.
Once mirth subsided, her pitch dropped low.
“Refuse to divulge…”
Suspense hung in the deliberate halt.
“…and holidays become our joint domain forever.”
Malice danced in her eyes—she meant every threat.
Hallway echoes prompted a hurried murmur from Carolina.
“Casual run-ins a handful of times. Strictly platonic.”
“Not officially—thus far.”
Connie needled right up to the threshold. As entry resumed, she piped a casual tune and reclaimed her chair.
Carolina wouldn’t have balked at Donovan striding in, quarry duties be damned.
Andrew Nofen appeared instead.
Her ease shattered instantly.
Lunch break ushered Connie away briefly; she reemerged dragging a seat close, murmuring low.
“Background check complete on Knight Everette Rojas.”
Carolina clamped a hand over her lips, fearing eavesdroppers.
Muted squirms ensued in resistance.
“Miss Constance, if you please.”
Leaning near, Carolina hissed urgently.
No romance here—what scheme brews now?
Urge to collar and rattle her nearly overwhelmed.
Connie signaled yielding with upraised palms.
Carolina relented.
Inhaling deeply, Connie hushed further.
“Discretion guides me—I’d never probe outright about romantic prospects.”
Carolina’s suspicion lingered, prompting elaboration.
“Framed it as interest in an imperial advisor for networking alone.”
Tomorrow brought no whispers of imminent nuptials, thankfully.
This gossip mill of officialdom irked deeply.
Inquire after healers, and tales spun of medical career shifts overnight.
Connie eyed her keenly, luring like a fiend.
“Intrigued by my findings?”
Elbow intertwined anew.
“Step out for details?”
Carolina feigned hesitation before trailing along.
She guided to a hidden garden nook aft of Treasury Department.
Clearing the vicinity, words flowed at last.
“Everette Rojas: age thirty.”
Beyond her guesses.
Twenty-two herself—an eight-year gap loomed.
Noting the flicker, Connie eased concerns.
“Military from maturity onward—spotless record.”
Carolina masked curiosity, absorbing more.
“Eastern origins, serf by birth.”
Imperial freemen dominated, yet eastern holdouts chained souls to soil as base commoners.
Status held little sway for Carolina, so Connie skimmed past.
“Merits forged his title; estates await. Insider account, no less.”
Chest swelled with source pride.
“Consensus paints him warm, tender-hearted—”
A vision intruded: Everette felling a foe mid-strike.
Courteous yes, yet edged keenly.
Undeterred, Connie pressed on.
“Imperial confidant, presentably attractive, untainted by affairs.”
Warmth could vary by bond—she conceded that.
One claim demanded challenge.
“Presentably attractive sums up that visage?”
Outrage mirrored denying dual moons.
“Might as well crown him empire’s pinnacle of allure.”
Connie mock-shivered, chilled by excess.
Truth edged close, regrettably.
Argument window slammed shut.
“Merely presentable? Rename the realm Paradise of Perfection or Gaze’s Eden.”
Injustice burned through her.
