“You gave the order?” the king asked, voice dry. “Then I presume you’ll enjoy explaining that order, in writing, to theCouncil of Edrathen and the Advisors of Varantian Imperium. Because until I receive a reason not to, this is an incident. And it will be documented.”
Evelyne raised her chin slightly. “With respect, from what I am aware Alaric brought concerns to our Council before. Repeatedly.”
“Yes,” Rhaedor said tightly. “I remember. I also remember not once did those concerns include my daughter sneaking into the Grand Marshal’s chambers at midnight.”
Silence crackled through the solar like a whip.
Then the king’s attention landed on Isildeth.
Evelyne stiffened. “She didn’t know anything,” she protested. “She wasn’t involved.”
“She was assigned toknow,” the king retorted, calm as a closing door.
Isildeth stepped forward. No tremble in her step, but her knuckles had gone white where they gripped her skirts.
Rhaedor addressed her coolly. “After the wedding, you were to be reassigned. A supervisory role. No longer a personal attendant. A rare honor. You were told this.”
Isildeth bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“That honor will no longer be granted.”
Evelyne’s breath caught, then flared out sharp. “You cannot punish her for something she didn’t do.”
Rhaedor said nothing.
“She followed her duties,” Evelyne pressed. “She reported what she was meant to. Nothing more. Don’t turn loyalty into guilt because you don’t like where it led.”
Isildeth’s head remained lowered, but Evelyne saw the flicker in her shoulders.
Still, the king didn’t look away.
“Punish me, if you must,” Evelyne said, voice steady now. “But leave her out of it.”
The king looked at her for a long moment, unreadable. Then his gaze shifted—slowly, deliberately—to Isildeth.
“You may remain in your current post until Her Highness departs,” he said at last, each word clipped with finality. “Afterward, your service will be concluded. You may speak to the steward about reassignment or early retirement.”
He paused.
“I suggest the latter.”
Isildeth held her bow longer this time. “Understood.”
Evelyne pivoted toward him, fury twisting behind her ribs. “She didn’t fail you,” she insisted quietly. “You’re just choosing not to trust her.”
“And you are choosing who is innocent and who is not,” Rhaedor replied without looking at her. “That is not yet your right.”
Only then did Rhaedor glance at Evelyne. Briefly. “This meeting is concluded. Dismissed.”
Evelyne stood frozen for a beat longer than she should have, the hem of her gown heavy at her feet, her breath caught behind clenched teeth.
She had thought she could bear the reprimand. Had even told herself she deserved it. But watching the weight fall not on her shoulders, but on the people who had stood beside her… that was something else entirely. A quieter cruelty. And worse, a consequence she couldn’t take back.
She left the solar, her spine remained straight, but inside, she was unraveling. Regret swelled hot in her throat, bitter and useless. Isildeth had done nothing but her job. Cedric and Vesena had followed her lead. Alaric had tried to protect her.
And she had let them all walk into the storm.
As she stepped away, her eyes slid to Isildeth. The woman simply stood there, poised and unreadable. Every inch the professional servant she had always been.
