Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 217: Which first: Dinner or Dessert?...

Chapter 217: Which first: Dinner or Dessert?...

"We shouldn’t be thinking about sex when the kingdom is under siege."

"They can wait," he said without hesitation.

Evelina rolled her eyes as she tugged on her blouse. "You say that like the fate of Arcadia isn’t hanging by a thread."

"Oh, it is," Damian replied, stepping back with a small shrug. "But we’re allowed to eat. And maybe flirt a little. All I’m just saying is," he stepped aside, "a little pleasure might help with all that stress you’ve been hoarding."

"Food helps too... Flirting is one thing," she muttered, tying her tunic. "Grinding against me like a starving beast is another.

From the back of her mind, Relia piped up, purring with amusement. "He’s got a point, you know. You did just fondle the royal sausage. Could’ve at least checked for quality control."

"Relia," Evelina warned silently.

"What? I’m just saying—if I were you and you were me, like the positions were reversed right now, I’d have given him a test run right there against the wardrobe. That thing has back support and everything."

Evelina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Or sighing. Or melting.

Damian was still watching her with that unreadable expression—equal parts heat and tenderness. It always unnerved her how he could make war and affection look like the same thing.

"Your cheeks are flushed," he murmured, stepping close again. "Did I embarrass you?"

"No," she said flatly.

"Liar," Relia crooned. "You’re one grope away from letting him forget dinner entirely."

"I’m just tired," Evelina added quickly. "Let’s just go eat."

food that won’t try to smuggle its way into my bed."

"Only because I don’t need to smuggle," Damian replied. "I’m invited."

Evelina bit back a smile as she reached for her leggings. "Keep talking and you’ll be sleeping on the balcony."

"You’d miss me by midnight," he said confidently, reaching for her cloak and holding it up for her.

She stepped into it, letting him fasten the clasp at her neck.

His hands lingered on her shoulders. "You know... we could eat. Or..."

"No ’or,’" she said, turning to face him fully. "Dinner. Then strategy. Then maybe."

"’Maybe’ is more than I hoped for," he said with a grin.

"You’re impossible."

"And still your mate."

She turned to face him. "Let’s see if your menu is as dangerous as your mouth."

Damian chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Well, I had them make roasted venison and that honey-glazed bread you like. Let’s go before it gets cold."

"Mmm, venison now, sausage later. Yes, my girl, you have your priorities straight."

"Relia."

"What? You’re allowed to be a warrior and still appreciate well-cooked meat. And well... you know. Raw meat."

Evelina shoved the last strap into place and crossed the room before Damian could catch another glance at her face—which, she was sure, had turned bright red by now.

He held the door open for her. "After you."

She walked through, ignoring Relia’s mental purring and the heated weight of Damian’s gaze as it followed her down the corridor.

Damian kept a hand on the small of Evelina’s back as they walked down the candlelit corridor, the sound of their footsteps soft against polished stone.

Somewhere distant, a bell chimed the hour, and a servant passed quickly with a bowed head, clutching a tray of dried herbs.

Evelina leaned into Damian’s touch, allowing his warmth to ground her in the present.

Then they turned a corner—and came face to face with Selene.

She stood at the mouth of the eastern corridor, wrapped in layers of winter-white silk, her posture statuesque and smug as if she’d been waiting. Her sharp eyes slid over Evelina first, then flicked to Damian.

Her lips twitched.

"Well, isn’t this cozy," she murmured just loud enough for them both to hear.

Evelina didn’t stop. Neither did Damian.

But Selene’s voice followed them, oily sweet. "Hope your dinner is more satisfying than your judgment."

Evelina’s jaw tightened.

Damian leaned close as they passed. "Ignore her."

"She’s really testing my patience."

"She wants to see you react. Don’t give her that win."

"She’s lucky we’re on our way to dinner," Evelina muttered. "I’d rather flip her over a table than sit at one right now."

Relia snorted. "You’d flip her through a table. Let’s be honest."

Damian gave her fingers a squeeze as they reached the heavy double doors to the small private dining chamber at the end of the hall. "I promise—no politics. No scheming. Just you, me, and food that doesn’t talk back."

"Good," Evelina said. "Because I might just lose my nobility if I have to smile through another evening with her across a table."

—

The doors closed behind them, muting the world outside.

The room was gently lit by wall sconces and the warm glow of a crackling fireplace. A small table for two was set under a curved window that overlooked the gardens.

On the table were plates of delicious roasted venison, sliced with a peppery seasoning, golden rounds of honey-glazed bread, and two goblets filled with rich, dark wine.

Evelina’s stomach actually growled.

Damian arched a brow. "Now that’s a sound I haven’t heard from you in a while."

"Because usually, I’m too stressed to eat."

"Well, tonight you’re not," he said firmly, pulling her chair out for her. "Tonight, you’re just Evelina. No war. No visions. No enemies."

The mention of her as just Evelina twisted her gut a bit. She ignored the feeling as she sat, letting herself sink into the plush chair with a long sigh. "Just dinner."

Damian poured her wine and grinned. "And me."

Evelina took the goblet. "Still debating if that’s a blessing or a hazard in disguise."

"Depends who you ask."

"Blessing," Relia purred. "Definitely a blessing. Especially with that neck and those forearms. Saints preserve me—if it were entirely up to me, I’d be begging for dessert before the first course."

Evelina stifled a smile and took a sip of her wine. "Is there anything you think of aside from being satisfied sexually?"

"Of course. I just love how this messes with your senses."

"You’re insufferable."

"Yet, you are stuck with me.;

—

Dinner, surprisingly, was peaceful.

They ate slowly, without rush, and for once, without interruption.

Damian asked her how the scouting went in detail. She told him just enough without rehashing Zade’s lingering glances or Jasper’s sidelong looks.

He told her about the northern delegation—how pompous they were, how one of them tripped on a rug trying to bow too low.

Evelina actually laughed.

He grinned like he’d won something precious. "There it is," he said, pointing his fork at her. "That sound. I’ve missed it."

She rolled her eyes. "You’re being ridiculous."

"Am I?" He leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. "I remember when you’d barely speak three full words to me."

"I was weighing my options. Could’ve still gutted you in your sleep back then."

Damian smirked. "And now?"

"Now I’d gut anyone who tried to hurt you."

Something shifted in his gaze. Softer. Deeper.

They didn’t speak for a moment, and they didn’t need to.

—

After the plates were cleared and the last of the wine poured, they walked hand-in-hand through the quieter halls near the eastern gardens. The guards they passed bowed politely, stepping aside without question.

The moonlight bled in through high glass panes, touching the marble floors with silver.

"Tonight wasn’t so bad," Evelina murmured.

"No," Damian agreed. "It wasn’t."

He reached over and gently brushed a stray curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered, warm.

"You seem lighter," he said. "I’m glad."

"Don’t get used to it."

He chuckled. "I won’t."

But then, as they turned down a side corridor leading toward Damian’s chambers, he slowed his pace.

His thumb gently brushed over her knuckles. "Evie?"

She hummed in response.

"That name you said in the forest. Tobias."

She stiffened.

It was a split-second reaction—barely a hitch in her breath, a flicker of something in her eyes. But he caught it.

Evelina slowly pulled her hand from his. "It’s not important."

Damian didn’t press further, but his brows furrowed slightly. "Jasper said Zade heard it. That you murmured it like it mattered."

"I told Zade," she said calmly, "it was just a name Luther mentioned. A casualty. Someone he lost."

Damian studied her face, searching for the truth.

She met his gaze without flinching. "That’s all."

A beat of silence passed.

Then he nodded slowly. "Alright."

But she saw it—the doubt settling behind his eyes.

She hated it.

"You could tell him," Relia whispered gently. "Youdon’t have to do this alone."

"I know," Evelina whispered back. "But not yet."

They reached his door.

Damian turned to face her again, his expression softer now. "You don’t have to carry it all. Whatever it is."

She offered him a faint smile. "I’m not. Not anymore."

Another lie. But a gentle one.

He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Let’s get some sleep."

She nodded. "Yeah, we should."