The Conversation She Wasn't Part Of

The soft clink of porcelain and the gentle scent of bergamot filled the air as Perrie led Kourtney into the adjoining lounge. The six princes were already seated, poised with that familiar blend of ease and elegance. A tea table sat between them, set in Perrie's signature style—fine china, delicate pastries, and thoughtful presentation.

"Your Highnesses," Perrie announced with his usual theatrical charm, "may I reintroduce Miss Kourtney Bethaway—my right hand and the vision behind most of what you'll see at the gala."

Kourtney's entered quiet, graceful, but there was nothing slow or lingering about her presence. She offered a curt, professional nod.

"Your Highnesses," she said evenly—neither warm nor cold, just a polite formality—simply professional.

Edward rose briefly, ever proper. "A pleasure to see you again Miss—under decidedly calmer conditions."

A hum of amusement followed.

Kourtney just replied with a subtle, neutral smile—and then, without missing a beat, she turned toward Perrie and said softly, "I'll have the finalized layouts sent to you."

Without waiting for a reply—she turned and exited, the sound of her heels fading down the hall like punctuation to a conversation that hadn't even started.

A pause hung in the air after she left.

Then Prince Robert let out a low whistle. "Well… that was brief."

Jacen gave a small shrug. "Efficient, at least."

Perrie cleared his throat and placed a hand on his hip with a sigh. "Apologies, truly. I had her helping with some urgent showcase adjustments—sleeves were being sewn backward and we had a tulle crisis… well, long story short, she wasn't supposed to come in here at all. I dragged her in mid-chaos."

Keith, still sitting back with his arms crossed, raised a brow. "Is she really your employee?"

Perrie blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean," Keith went on, still stern, "you two didn't exactly look like employer and employee."

The others exchanged glances.

Jacen nodded slightly. "The way she spoke to you. The way you listened to her."

Robert leaned forward with interest. "You can't hear anything from here—but that interaction? That wasn't just about fabrics and thread counts."

Perrie cleared his throat and placed a hand on his hip with a sigh. "Apologies, truly. I had her helping with some urgent showcase adjustments—sleeves were being sewn backward and we had a tulle crisis… well, long story short, she wasn't supposed to come in here at all. I dragged her in mid-chaos."

Keith, still sitting back with his arms crossed, raised a brow. "Is she really your employee?"

Perrie blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean," Keith went on, still stern, "you two didn't exactly look like employer and employee."

The others exchanged glances.

Jacen nodded slightly. "The way she spoke to you. The way you listened to her."

Robert leaned forward with interest. "We couldn't hear anything from here—but that interaction didn't go unnoticed?"

Perrie didn't chuckle this time. Instead, his expression sobered slightly, and he folded his arms, speaking with quiet conviction.

"That's because she's not just staff," he said. "Truthfully, I've never really seen her as an employee."

He glanced toward the hallway where she had disappeared moments earlier, then back to the princes.

"She's more of a partner—an advisor. When she speaks, I listen. Not out of formality, but because I trust her judgment more than I trust most of my own instincts."

Wysten tilted his head. "So she's involved in more than just design?"

Perrie nodded. "More than involved. This place—the collection, the showcase, the entire aesthetic now—I'd say half of it now carries her fingerprint. She won't take the credit, but she deserves it. Every detail she touches becomes… precise. Better."

Nicholas looked thoughtful. "That explains a lot."

"She doesn't behave like someone new to all this," Wysten echoed again, this time with more weight.

"She isn't," Perrie said, his tone steady. "But she doesn't wave experience around like a banner. That's the thing with her. She has presence. Not loud, not performative—but the kind that makes you pay attention."

There was a silence after that, thoughtful rather than awkward—until Perrie, lips twitching, tilted his head.

Then Perrie's eyes narrowed slightly, tone shifting to something lighter and more playful. "Now… not that I mean to pry—actually, no, that's a lie, I very much mean to pry—how exactly do you six already know her?"

Edward gave a faint, diplomatic smile. "We encountered her at the palace."

Robert grinned. "More like we stumbled into her orbit."

"She dealt with a trio of spoiled nobles like she was brushing lint off a jacket," Nicholas added, sipping his tea.

"And Keith got roasted," Robert chimed in cheerfully.

The others chuckled—except Keith, whose expression flattened instantly.

"Verbally," Jacen clarified. "It was… something."

Perrie's eyes gleamed. "You're telling me she burned that prince?" he said pointing his fingers at him and then fanning himself with the other hand.

Robert leaned back in his seat with a grin. "And it was pure art.."

"She's efficient," Nicholas added dryly.

Keith, now visibly annoyed, stood up and dusted off the sleeve of his coat with a controlled, practiced motion. "Glad I could be everyone's favorite anecdote."

He looked to Perrie and offered a brief, curt nod.

"I think I've had enough of the gathering."

And without waiting for anyone else to speak, he turned and exited—his stride sharp, polished, and absolutely done with the conversation.

Robert waited until the door clicked shut behind him before muttering with a laugh, "Still not over it."

Jacen raised a brow. "Would you be?"

Perrie just stood there, hands on his hips, still stunned with delight. "I just adore her."

Nicholas's voice was quiet, thoughtful. "She's not one meets often, quite rare.."

A beat later, one of the studio assistants appeared at the side entrance and leaned toward Perrie. 

"Sir, we need you — there's an issue with the showcase drape."

Perrie groaned under his breath, then glanced at the princes. "Duty calls. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

With a flick of his coat hem and a muttered complaint about fabric disasters, he disappeared down the opposite hallway.

The door clicked softly behind him, and just like that, the six princes were left alone — seated in a space that somehow felt quieter now, as if the air Kourtney left behind still held shape.

Prince Robert leaned back with a low exhale, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well… I'm beginning to wonder if fate's got a sense of humor."

Nicholas hummed. "More like precision."

Prince Edward gave a thoughtful nod. "Whatever it is… it doesn't feel accidental."

"She's not easily read," Jacen murmured. "But she doesn't try to be either."

None of them said more after that. 

This wasn't just another girl from another corner of the world. They weren't sure who she was at all.

This was someone they wouldn't forget — and maybe weren't supposed to.

And something told them—they hadn't seen the last of her.