“Take care of them,” he told Thessa, tugging her braid like he used to when they were kids. His voice cracked. Just a little.
She nodded. She couldn’t speak. If she did, she might scream.
Joren’s attention shifted past her shoulder. Sera sat a little ways off, thin arms wrapped around her frame. He watched her for a long beat, a quiet resolve hardening in his expression—as if every path leading him from home was meant for their sake.
He kissed their mother on the crown of her head, pulled her into a hug she didn’t return right away. Then he let go.
The door shut behind him.
Their mother stood still for a long time. Her arms hung limp, the air still shaped like his departure.
Then she crumpled like someone had pulled the strings holding her up. Her face in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. A sound came out of her throat that Thessa had never heard before—dry and small and scraped raw from the inside.
Chapter 52
Three figures occupied the solar.
Evelyne stood nearest the window, spine straight, her gown dark as dusk. The long table beside her was still cluttered with scrolls and correspondence. One week ago, she had found the symbol hidden among them. One week. And now, nothing felt stable. Above it, beams of morning light slanted through narrow windows, gilding the cold floor in gold that felt far too soft for what was about to unfold.
By his desk, the king remained rigid, hands braced wide on the polished wood, his shoulders taut with contained fury. He hadn’t spoken since they entered.
Isildeth lingered near the shelves, still as frost, gaze down.
Ravik, of course, was absent—recovering from the wound he’d taken for Evelyne. Whether out of loyalty or strategy, no one could say. But it meant the scolding now fell to King Rhaedor alone. And somehow, that made it worse.
He had been pacing for the better part of an hour, his boots marking a controlled warpath across the polished stone.
“Insolence,” he muttered again, voice clipped. “Recklessness. Do you understand what you’ve risked?”
Evelyne said nothing.
He stopped before her, brows furrowed. “The Crown’s name. Your own future. The stability of our court. Launching an unsanctioned investigation? Breaking into secure offices? Dragging your future husband into it like some back-alley thief?”
She held her tongue. Her gaze never dropped.
“And with what justification?” he pressed, stepping closer. “No approval from this Council or any other. Acting like a man instead of a woman.”
He filled the space with the sound of his own outrage, and she let him. Because she knew the moment she opened her mouth, it would no longer be about truth—it would be about obedience. And he had already decided she had failed at that.
So she stood there, silent and furious in a way she wouldn’t name. Because she had chosen her side long before this conversation started. And it wasn’t his.
“You’re lucky no one outside the Council knows the full extent of your behavior,” Rhaedor snapped. “If even a rumor of this reached the court, you would lose what little credibility your name still commands.”
She’d never felt more certain that she would find her own way to speak. And when she did, it would be loud enough that even the Gods would listen.
But her father wasn’t finished.
“I should have known. Accepting Varantia’s offer was a mistake. I should have predicted they’d stir things up, dig into what was buried. I didn’t expect you to be the one they’d sway.”
Evelyne stepped forward, pulse jumping in her throat. “They answered my request.”
“Did they?” the king cut in, eyes never leaving Alaric. “Then I’m sure they’ll know how to answer for it.”
Her voice caught. He hadn’t even looked at her.
Rhaedor took a slow step forward, arms behind his back. “And the prince,” the king continued, “if I informed them that their heir apparent had been prowling beneath a foreign castle, breaking into military offices with the bride of their empire? That he followed the whims of a woman who should’ve known better?”
Evelyne’s stomach turned. She opened her mouth again. “He’s not at fault. None of them are. I asked them to help me—”
