“They said they wanted to protect their son. But what they meant was that I’d become inconvenient. That I wasn’t the version of me they had agreed to bargain for.”
Her mouth tightened. “I didn’t feel pride when the letters returned years later. I’d already learned that apologies don’t mean restoration. It was just a business deal pulled off the shelf, dusted, and presented with polished smiles.”
Finally, she looked at him.
“I wasn’t chosen. I was… convenient again. My father needed it; the court needed it. And I… I agreed. Because I’d already learned how to be what was required.”
Her breath hitched, the tiniest catch, but she pressed on.
“I was a woman in a country that keeps them quiet. So I learned to serve, not to feel. I also performed. For survival.”
Alaric’s jaw worked. The courtly phrasing, the weaponized courtesy—it was exactly the kind of thing he’d seen all his life. And hearing her put words to it, calm and steady, made him want to grind his teeth into dust.
“Stars,” he said at last. “And you think I’m the one pretending.”
Evelyne exhaled long and slow, her shoulders easing as though they had forgotten how to do anything but brace.
“Oh please,” she muttered. “I’m the master of performance.”
Alaric raised both hands. “Oh, I know. You won.”
Her brow arched. “You fell for it though, didn’t you?”
He let his mouth curve, crooked and warm. “I walked straight into it. Face-first.”
“See? My plan worked. You’d never choose a future empress out of her mind,” she quipped, batting her lashes with a too-sweet smile.
He leaned in a fraction, unable to help himself. “Do you know a ruler in the right one?”
That blink of hers—sharp, startled, almost amused—was worth every risk.
“Fair point,” she conceded.
“We have to be a bit mad to rule anything,” he added, stroking his chin.
“Oh gods.” Evelyne pressed her palm to her cheek. “And we have to rule anempire.”
He gasped, one hand to his chest in mock horror. “Can you imagine? The scandal.”
“I am imagining,” she teased, her voice catching on the edge of a giggle. “I’ve been imagining for weeks. And it gets worse every time.”
“I bet it does.”
And then it happened—Evelyne snorted. Actually snorted. Then clapped her hand over her mouth like she’d just betrayed state secrets.
That undid him. Alaric doubled over slightly, laughter spilling out. It was rough and unprincely, and he didn’t care. Beside him, Evelyne wheezed, clutching her stomach, her braid coming loose.
They leaned toward each other, just enough that their shoulders nearly touched. She collapsed into breathless laughter—the kind born of too much silence and pressure.
“We’re going to ruin everything,” Evelyne squealed.
“We already have,” Alaric shot back. “Between the two of us, it’ll be a glorious disaster.”
“I can’t wait,” she quipped, wiping a tear from her cheek.
The laughter ebbed slowly, tapering into a few breathy chuckles. The night air cooled around them, brushing his flushed face like silk dipped in cold water.
“Wow,” he said at last, exhaling like he’d run a race. “That was… oddly cathartic.”
