She added, matter-of-fact, “So no, I won’t be resigning. If I wanted safety, I’d have stayed in the capital.”
Evelyne’s chest loosened around something she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. It mattered. Because she couldn’t do this alone. She didn’t want to. Not physically, not mentally, not with everything spiraling faster than she could control.
This—what she was asking of Vesena—wasn’t some idle favor. It was dangerous. Treason-adjacent. The kind of risk that didn’t always leave room for a second chance. And yes, Vesena was trained, so good at what she did it often looked effortless. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t taking a risk with every step.
Evelyne looked away briefly. “Thank you,” she said. “Truly.”
Around them, the nobility drifted in curated clusters, all pastel silks and hushed voices. If they hadn’t succeeded tonight, she’d give them something new to clutch their pearls over.
The thought was almost comforting.
“So,” she began, going back to the present, “this nobleman—was he the first fool who dared admire you, or simply the first arrogant enough to think he could toy with someone smarter than himself?”
Vesena inhaled. “That’s bold, my lady.”
Evelyne shrugged. “You don’t have to answer.”
Vesena tilted her head slightly, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the sun-drenched windows, somewhere Evelyne couldn’t follow.
“It’s not like in Edrathen,” Vesena said eventually, her words careful, shaped with precision. “In Varantia, nobles and those of common birth can...” She hesitated, searching for the right phrasing, “...form attachments. It’s not forbidden.”
Evelyne dipped her head.
“But,” Vesena added, “both people have to want it.”
A flicker touched her mouth before disappearing.
“In my case,” she said, “only one of us did. The other was just... passing the time.”
Evelyne’s jaw clenched. “That’s horrible.”
Vesena let out a low, humorless laugh. “It’s life.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, more forcefully than she meant to, “that anyone treated you that way. You deserved better.”
Vesena offered a small shrug, the sort meant to dismiss the conversation. But Evelyne saw it. The wound might have scarred over, but it had never fully healed. She knew better than most how long the past could linger.
Men, Evelyne thought, her fan snapping shut with a faint, decisive click.The gods truly lacked imagination when they made them.
Chapter 33
“Princess Evelyne,” came the voice, too familiar, too cheerful by half.
The gods also had no sense of timing when one required even the briefest respite from their chaos.
She did not sigh. She had better control than that. Slowly, deliberately, she pivoted, curving her lips into a smile so practiced it might have been carved from marble.
There he stood grinning like a man who had never once known the meaning of 'unwelcome', hands clasped behind his back. Cedric hovered behind him, somehow managing to look both amused and apologetic. He exchanged a glance with Vesena as he stopped, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth.
Alaric was dressed in lighter colors today—a soft blue jacket, light cream trousers tucked into brown boots, and an open-collared linen shirt.
Evelyne curtsied; Alaric bowed.
“You look radiant, Your Highness. Have you seen the sculpture near the east alcove? Remarkable craftsmanship. Almost made me wish I'd taken up carving instead of politics.”
Evelyne’s lips curved in polite acknowledgment. “You would have made a fine apprentice,” she quipped. “Perhaps with enough dedication, you might have achieved mediocrity.”
Cedric coughed into his hand. It might have been a laugh. Evelyne chose to let it pass without acknowledgement.
