Halwen turned to her. “Ah. Yes. I didn’t light the milfoil today. It ran out, we have to collect and dry new ones.”
Evelyne let the silence close over the answer and did not press further. But she filed it away, like every other thread she couldn’t quite name—because if the gods were whispering, she needed to learn how to listen.
Chapter 55
Evelyne and Alaric rarely had a moment alone after the parade. Their conversations were limited to brief exchanges over meals, always under the watchful gaze of the king or guards.
Alaric was consumed by politics, spending most of his time in counsel with Edrathen’s advisors. Meanwhile, Evelyne’s time was filled with ceremonial preparations as well as other responsibilities.
And now, at last, the night before the wedding had arrived. She had gone to bed early, but sleep would not come. She drifted, then woke again. The bed felt wrong, unfamiliar no matter how she turned. She sighed in frustration and smacked the sheets with her hands.
She needed the lake. The willow. Just once more. If she died tomorrow, she will never see this sight again. If she doesn't die and goes to Varantia, she won't see it either.
A quiet rebellion stirred within her.
She threw off the covers and stepped onto the cold floor then reached for the floor-length periwinkle night robe and wrapped it around herself. Her white nightgown billowed slightly beneath it as she padded barefoot across the room. She hesitated only for a moment before opening a window.
Moonlight spilled into her chamber in silver ribbons, catching the glint of the embroidery on her robe. With a last glance behind her, Evelyne slipped onto the ledge. The wind stung her cheeks as she gripped the thick vine clinging to the outer wall.
Halfway down, she paused to adjust her grip:I am climbing out of a castle window. Like a thief.
What am I doing?
I could fall. Break my neck.
The thought didn’t slow her.
If anything, it made her fingers grip tighter.
Hand over hand, she descended carefully, the rough braid of ivy and stone biting into her palms. The hem of her robe caught once, and for a moment she hung there, suspended between the past she’d been trained for and the future she was now clawing toward.
Below, the courtyard stretched in silver and shadow, empty save for the silent watch of broken statues and stars. When her feet touched the ground, she exhaled.
I must be insane… or alive for the first time.
But the cool night air on her face, the thrill pounding in her chest, whispered something else entirely.
Above her, the almost full moon hung heavy over the castle spires. The same moon that would witness her wedding tomorrow. Weddings in Edrathen always took place beneath a full moon, symbolizing clarity, fate, and the guiding light of the heavens. Yet, as she looked up at it now, she felt no comfort in its glow.
Evelyne strode toward the stables across the east courtyard.
She expected to see stable hands, perhaps a few servants. But as she neared the complex, she was met with nothing but silence. She pushed the ajar doors open. The scent of hay and leather hit her at once.
And then she sawhim.
Alaric stood deeper inside, one hand resting on the bridle of his horse. The beast snorted softly, shifting under his touch.
Their eyes met in the dim light.
“Running away, princess?” he asked, voice edged with amusement.
Evelyne tilted her head slightly. “And you?”
Alaric laughed, patting the horse’s neck. “No, not running. I couldn’t sleep so I thought a ride might clear my head.”
“I—” She uttered quickly. “I merely wished to check on the horses.”
“Ah. Of course.”
