That is my future wife.
Well. No shit.
Cedric, on the other hand, was leaning toward what-the-actual-fuck territory.
Alaric was first to step through the frame. Cedric caught the faint twitch in his jaw as he emerged into the light, saw her standing calmly in the corridor like nothing had happened.
Vesena followed. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. But Cedric swore he saw the barest flicker of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. That, or the shadows were playing tricks again.
Cedric slipped through last. If this didn’t end with their arrest, he’d personally crown Evelyne himself.
One guard stepped forward, hand flying to his sword. “Your Highness—what—stop, how did you—?
Alaric raised both hands as if warding off an incoming lecture.
Evelyne faced the guards, posture collected, tone steady.
“You’re right,” she admitted calmly. “I left but you don’t saw me enter. That’s on me.”
The Silverwards blinked—young, uncertain, clearly still in training.
She went on, her tone clipped but not cold. “You’ve done your duty well. My presence isn’t your fault—I entered through a route that shouldn’t be accessible. You may report it to the Grand Marshal if necessary. I’ll speak to him directly, and happily explain the reason.”
The guards looked at each other trying to decide whether they were being reprimanded or praised.
Cedric met Vesena’s stare.
“It’s late,” Evelyne added. “Please, carry on. I’ll escort myself.”
Silence.
The kind that came when the official protocol handbook didn’t include a section on what to do when a princess emerged from a secret wall with three foreign schemers and then dismissed you with grace.
The Silverwards glanced at each other, completely frozen. One actually opened his mouth—probably to object—then closed it again.
Evelyne gave them a nod. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”
Then walked off.
Vesena followed like a shadow peeling from stone. Alaric trailed a moment after, dropping his hands; still not over whatever cosmic revelation had hit him ten minutes ago.
Cedric lingered long enough to offer the guards a crooked smile and a vague shrug. He reached Vesena just as Alaric stepped up beside Evelyne.
“What was that?” Alaric asked under his breath.
Evelyne didn’t so much as turn his way. “We’d have been caught regardless,” she said evenly. “Might as well face it with our heads high.”
She flicked him a brief look. “And I would have Ravik understand that his secrecy no longer serves him.”
Cedric studied her retreating form, then the guards still gaping after them as if witnessing a poorly staged opera finale.
He shot Vesena a glance.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he murmured, “the future Empress of Varantia.”
Chapter 48
Alaric hadn’t expected the anger to burn this cold. He was used to a feeling of injustice at incompetence, at the occasional egregious misuse of metaphor—but this? This sat low in his chest, cold and furious.
