Page 12 of Will You (Not) Marry Me

“Not at all,” said his mother. “We’re all just early birds, I’m afraid.”

It was almost impossible for Eva to keep from rolling her eyes.

“Good to know,” said the prince with an easy smile. “For a moment there, I was prepared to be embarrassed.” There was a titter of laughter at that, and Eva point-blank refused to join in, grabbing a glass of orange juice from the side table and drinking to hide her screwed-up nose.

“Oh yes,” said Queen Clara, acting like a proper host. “Everyone, please help yourselves. We’re a fan of grazing tables here. Much more casual than sitting around a table. It’s always nice to wander about to different conversations, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely,” agreed Andrea. Their conversation continued, and Eva tuned out the pleasantries. It looked like the kings had done the same, content to let their wives take charge of the morning. Poor Magnus just looked awkward, listening politely.

While she was at the side table, which was laden with fruit and sweets, Eva piled a small plate with a few pastries and biscuits and made her way to the far wall of the room, brain ticking over her strategy. She could pass off antisocial behavior as shyness and still feeling unwell to the senior royals. To Finn, she could twist it into something less endearing. She hoped, at least. This had to work. There wasn’t really any other option.

Of course, after a minute or two to make it look casual and carrying a plate of food of his own, Finn joined her by the wall.

“May I join you?” he asked. Eva nodded once with a tight-lipped smile.

Everyone was happily talking away to each other, louder than a gathering like this usually called for. All of them pointedly not looking, not watching, not listening.

Subtle, guys, real subtle.

“I like the suit,” Finn said with a warm smile. “It’s definitely nicer than most of mine.”

Eva didn’t acknowledge the compliment, nor did she offer him one in return, which would have been the polite thing to do.

Instead, she turned her attention to her food. She picked out a pastry, took a bite, made a face as if it were gross and put it back on her plate. Subtle. So subtle. But anyone with the etiquette training they’d had would pick up on it, and it was all she could get away with while the parents were here watching.

But it was enough. Finn didn’t mention it, and she hadn’t expected him to, but as she stood next to him not eating anything else and looking at her selection distastefully, he cocked his head to the side and looked at her curiously. She was off to a good start, then, definitely on the right track.

Finn cleared his throat and tried again. “My mother mentioned you had a degree in the arts?”

“Photography,” she answered shortly.

“Is that a six-month sort of course?” Finn asked. “To learn photography?”

“Try four years,” Eva said, not having to fake her annoyed tone. “I have a bachelor’s degree in fine art photography, with minors in computer graphics and animation.”

Finn nodded, seemingly impressed and perhaps a little apologetic at lowballing how long the course had taken. “That must have taken a lot of work, doing a degree like that? I had no idea it would take so long.”

Eva just shrugged, trying to give him as little to work with as possible. “I dunno. I found it pretty easy.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear. It’s always better when things come easily to you. Less stressful.”

She shrugged again, offering him nothing. Finn licked his lips, the atmosphere between them palpably awkward. Good. It was working.

“So,” he said, trying hard to get things going. “What does one do in a photography degree?”

“Take photographs, mostly.”

Finn smiled as if she’d told a joke, but her tone had been so deadpan that she knew it hadn’t come across as a joke at all. He was just trying to save face.

“Are the, uh, mechanics of the camera involved? In the lessons, I mean.”

“Yes, but…” she said, as condescendingly as she could. “If you don’t know photography, then it’s hard to explain.”

She let the implication in her sentence speak for itself and took an extended sip of her drink, looking around the room as if she were looking for someone more interesting to talk to.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Finn’s facial expressions flicker as he tried to find a way to salvage the conversation. Eva was sure that, like her, he was an expert in making small talk and keeping conversations from dying. It was the main skill of any royal to take the smallest crumb of information and spin an entire conversation around it. But now he was starting to struggle, licking his lips in a nervous tic and searching for words. Eva had to smother a victorious grin.

She tapped her fingernails against her glass in an irritating pattern, carefully treading the line of being insufferable without being obvious about it.

---