The moment he felt something snap. The leash of patience. The unspoken agreement that they’d keep dancing around the edges of this war and each other.
“No.”
He was standing before he realized it. She turned; her eyes locked onto him like she didn’t understand what was happening. Maybe neither of them did.
It wasn’t a game for him. Hadn’t been for a while.
He had come here chasing shadows. Hoping to find truths buried in symbols and sealed archives. But this wasn't a theory. Not abstraction. This was blood and grief and a woman still standing in the ruins of what should’ve been a life.
His truth could wait.
Hers was already burning.
She deserved more than a curious prince poking through history for answers. Intentions didn’t absolve anything. Not if they blurred into excuses. His fingers drummed twice on his knee before curling into a fist.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
She frowned immediately. He knew that look. She was preparing for disappointment.
He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “The symbol. The one with the three lines in a circle.”
Her expression didn’t change, but he felt the temperature in the room drop by a full degree.
“I think I know what it is,” he admitted.
Evelyne’s whole body stilled. And then, slowly, she stepped back.
“Youwhat?”
“I think it can be a Circle of Binding. I just thought about it a few days ago. And you were on a mission of ignoring me for whatever reason—”
She turned from him, jaw clenched so tight it could’ve been carved from stone.
“So, your solution was to lie.”
“I said nothing,” he corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
“You play with words, Alaric.”
“I play with truth,” he objected, taking one small step closer. “I omitted it—because you know the world we live in. I value the truth, but I value survival too. If I’d said outright that this was all magic, the Assembly would’ve taken us both before the sentence left my mouth.”
She went still again. Her breathing was shallow.
“There are things hidden in Edrathen,” he began. “In plain sight. Things even you’ve been taught to misread. The sigil. Dasmon’s murder. The Sundering. It’s all connected. You saw it just a few minutes ago. Everything isthere. In religion, tradition, folklore, art.”
She scoffed wrapping her arms around herself. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” he challenged. “If you don’t want to believe me, believe your own mind. You know what you saw, you know what’s going on. Deflection for survival will not work anymore.”
She looked at him like she wanted to slap him. Or walk away. Or both.
“This isn’t your scene,” she said, low and bitter. “This isn’t a scholarly expedition. These arepeople.”
“That’s exactly why I wantyouto see it,” he snapped. “The whole picture. You think I came here just to smile and bow and secure an alliance?”
Evelyne glared at him.
“I came here because my grandfather warned me that your kingdom is sitting on a powder keg of forgotten blood and buried gods. And you—” he took a breath, steadying the shake in his chest, “—you just happened to be standing on top of it.”
