His face lit at the assignment. He tore down the yard, small boots thudding against the ground. Evelyne stayed crouched for a moment longer, breath locked tight. Then she straightened, lifting her gaze. Across the grounds, Vesena was already watching.
For too long, Ravik had lacquered himself in the color of honor, each stroke claimed for the kingdom’s good. Now it was flaking away in jagged strips. If he was haunting the sealed halls, something waited there.
She had let one massacre pass in silence. She would not let a second one harm anyone else.
Chapter 44
The Halls of Seals smelled of dust and wax. Evelyne walked with her chin high, skirts brushing the red carpet. The Halls of Seals smelled of dust and wax. Evelyne walked with her chin high, skirts whispering against the red carpet that ran the length of the floor. The chamber stretched long and narrow, flanked by solemn marble columns that climbed toward a vaulted ceiling. The portraits lined the walls in an unbroken procession of power. Her gaze caught on one she knew too well—her father, painted younger, the steel of his stare softened by the brush. Beside him, her grandfather, irises like a hammered coin.
And further down—King Thalen the Unseen. The name always made her chest tighten. A scholar-king, who had once smuggled subtle magic into oaths. He’d held Rhyssa’s flame when the world wanted to smother it, hidden spells inside contracts, bound words to consequence. Dangerous, brilliant. His name was whispered only in disapproval, except when spoken about her brother.
It was a relief to keep going, until she halted once more, before a portrait at the far wall of the hall.
Queen Virelle. First and last of her name, who had seized the crown in a world that had not meant to let her. The portrait was so old it predated the Sundering, yet it lived—more alive than any face in the hall. Black hair falling loose against a brown fur mantle, the fire emblem stitched at her breast, blue eyes bright as cut glass. They pierced through centuries with unnerving clarity. She seemed both unimpressed and waiting to be proven wrong, as if her silence said:Go on then. Disappoint me.
Evelyne tried to avert her attention but couldn’t. That fierce, knowing stare summoned everything she had buried to stay alive.
Late afternoon light slipped through narrow windows, turning the drifting dust into tiny stars over the floor. The chamber held its hush.
Evelyne drew in air through steady control, smoothing the pleat of her skirt as she studied the length of the gallery once more.Why was Ravik here at night? What scheme was he setting in motion?
Vesena lingered at Evelyne’s side, her attention flicking over shadows, exit, and the shallow alcoves carved between columns—carefully avoiding the paintings altogether. This was their third covert task together, and Evelyne couldn’t shake the impression that Vesena might actually be enjoying herself. There was a faint sharpness to her posture, a quiet alertness that looked suspiciously like anticipation.
Evelyne eased her pace, letting her focus rest on King Thalen’s haunted portrait before cutting her attention to Vesena. “What do you think?” she asked under her breath.
Vesena kept her focus on the corridor beyond, answering without delay. “I think that we should inform Prince Alaric. He notices what others overlook.”
Evelyne cast her a glance sharp enough to sting.
Vesena caught the look and released a faint exhale through her nose. “Very well. I see nothing remarkable. The portraits are arranged by lineage, each enclosed in the same gilded frame, the same precise dimensions. The painters vary, which is natural over centuries. Nothing out of place.”
Her words faded as her attention snagged on a detail Evelyne had overlooked. Gradually, Vesena advanced toward Queen Virelle’s piercing blue likeness. “Except for one thing.”
Her slipper brushed the carpet, and Evelyne followed her eyes. The woven pattern beneath the queen’s portrait was darker here, scuffed as though more feet had crossed it than any other stretch of hall.
Vesena crouched slightly, fingertips ghosting over the fibers. “This carpet has been stepped on. More than once.”
Evelyne drew nearer, pulse hammering. She shouldn’t. And yet her palm lifted, stopping a breath away from Queen Virelle’s painted cheek.
The canvas was cool beneath her touch. A current ran through it, as though the brushstrokes still carried the pulse of the woman they portrayed. Power. Determination. Sacrifice. Evelyne’s breath caught. For a moment she was no longer looking at paint at all, but at a mirror, one that saw her deeper than she wanted to be seen.
She pulled in a breath, steadying herself, and narrowed her gaze. Alaric’s voice flickered through her mind:It isn’t about what’s painted. It’s about what’s shown.She leaned closer, ignoring color, ignoring likeness, and studied instead the weight of the strokes.
Too thick. The lower layers didn’t match the top.
Her stomach dropped.Painted over. A restoration?
Her fingers itched to scrape at it, to peel the secret free. Then she pressed harder than she meant to. A muted click shuddered through the frame, and the canvas groaned and swung inward on a hidden pivot. And behind it, a small corridor.
The guards must know. Or someone’s told them not to see.
Evelyne staggered back, warmth rushing up her arms like heat from a forge. From down the hall came the measured tramp of boots. Guards on patrol.
“Milady—quick,” Vesena hissed, already slipping her fingers into the narrow gap. “There’s a pass.”
There was no time to think. Evelyne gathered her skirts, climbed up a stem and ducked inside the opening, the air cool and stale against her skin. Vesena followed, forcing the portrait back into place with a dull thud that blended with the echoes of the patrol.
They pressed against the hidden wall, holding their breath. The footsteps drew near. Paused.
