For a beat, Evelyne’s chest went hollow. She had been so tangled in dreams, secrets and sigils, that she had almost forgotten.
Ravik grunted. “Every formation accounted for. The schedule has been circulated to all captains. The ceremony begins at noon.”
Evelyne smiled. Just enough to qualify as courtly. Not enough to be mistaken for warmth.
“Good,” she said, and let her eyes linger on Ravik.
He did not flinch. But he didn’t quite meet her gaze, either. A flicker of caution darted behind his composure. Or perhaps she imagined it. She hoped she didn’t.
The silence stretched half a second too long.
Evelyne folded her hands. “I trust there will be no... unexpected accidents this time?”
It landed as soft as snowfall. Rhaedor shifted, his gaze flicking to her a blink too slow. Ravik’s jaw flexed.
“There will be no disruption,” he replied. “Not on my watch.”
“Mm.” Evelyne tilted her head, lashes lowered. “I imagine that’s what they said to Dasmon, too.”
Something behind his eyes cooled further.
“I have seen to every layer of security,” he replied. “Personally.”
“I imagine so,” Evelyne said. “You’ve long taken pride in precision.”
Ravik inclined his head. “Only where it counts.”
She smiled. It never reached her eyes. “How fortunate, then, that tomorrow counts.”
To his credit, Ravik didn’t rise to it. But there it was—the small, betraying tick at his temple, the subtle way his posture stiffened, betraying what words would not.
Ravik’s mouth thinned just enough to answer her without moving. “Every entrance is sealed. Every perimeter doubled. We’ve posted archers along the southern archways, in case of high ground tactics.”
“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, Marshal, that this will be my last appearance before the wedding,” she remarked.
Ravik nodded once. “You will be safe.”
She tilted her head slightly, watching him as one might examine a blade for cracks invisible to the eye. “Forgive me,” she said, silk barely concealing the iron, “but I’ve learned recently that the definition of safety can be... subjective.”
Rhaedor’s brow furrowed slightly. “Evelyne.”
But she wasn’t done.
“And if there were any remaining secrets—any small details left unattended, anything at all that might cast a shadow over that definition—it would be better to bring them forward now. With dignity.”
Prove me wrong, Ravik. Give me a reason to stop looking over your shoulder. Just once, I want to be mistaken about someone.
Ravik met her eyes.
“There’s nothing else,” he assured. “You have my word.”
Her spine didn’t move, but something cold settled in her chest. She turned slightly, just enough to glimpse her father. His expression was unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw gave him away. Displeasure. Distance. How could he sit through the Council meetings or say nothing in the space between?
As always, his silence said just enough. And never quite what she needed.
“I see.”
Evelyne offered a final nod. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s hope your word holds.”
