Thalen had angled eagerly toward their father, animatedly recounting some fact he’d read about Varantia. Alaric nodded solemnly at first, then leaned in with a dramatic gasp and a whispered correction that made Thalen erupt into laughter.
Gods, he looked so proud. Like he’d just debated the council into surrender.
Her attention lingered a breath longer than intended before she forced it away.
The main meal had come to an end, and as the last of the silver platters were cleared away, servants carried in the final course. Evelyne recognized the delicate scent even before she saw it. Strawberry tarts, her favorite. Thalen grabbed for it at once, too quick to bother with manners.
The golden pastry was crisp, the fruit glistening with syrup. It was a small comfort; one she had always associated with home. She had eaten them since childhood, stealing bites between lessons. Tonight, however, the familiarity did little to soothe her.
Her father broke the silence, his voice even. “The ceremony is arranged. I have exchanged letters with Emperor Emrys, and all will proceed as planned.”
Alaric merely nodded, taking a slow sip of his wine. “I’m sure my father has been thorough. He does like things in order.”
The king gave a short nod. “As do I.”
A servant leaned in to refill the king's goblet. “After the ceremony, you will leave for Varantia. I expect the journey will take no longer than two weeks, provided the weather holds.”
“The official contract will be signed two days before the ceremony,” Rhaedor continued. “It will outline the expectations and obligations on both sides.”
Alaric leaned back slightly in his chair. “A charming way to define a marriage.”
“Marriage is an alliance, first and foremost. I expect the terms to be honored, as does your father.”
Alaric exhaled lightly. He tapped his fork against the edge of his plate once. Then again. The muscle along his temple twitched.
“Naturally,” he said at last.
“Details of the dowry have already been agreed upon,” her father announced, waving off the servant. “Edrathen will provide the materials and resources as arranged. The stone and iron shipments have been prepared. Varantia will ensure food provisions and trade routes remain open to our merchants.”
Alaric hummed. “A fair exchange. Stability for prosperity.”
Evelyne set her fork down without touching the tart. They were speaking of her life, as if it were a crate of trade goods to be loaded onto a Varantian ship. Calculated to the last coin.
Her lips tugged downward in the faintest motion. Thalen, mid-chew, caught her expression and offered her a small smile from across the table. Evelyne returned it.
The king nodded. “Edrathen keeps its word. My daughter will uphold her role.”
Alaric’s eyes flicked toward Evelyne.
Her corset pinched higher beneath her ribs. She found herself retreating from it, withdrawing into the quiet space of her own mind. She exhaled slowly as she let her gaze drift across the dining hall, seeking the one thing that always brought her a sense of stability—her maid.
There, near the far wall, Isildeth stood with her usual calm presence, her hands clasped in front of her. But tonight, she was not alone. Standing just beside her was another young woman, listening intently as Isildeth murmured something to her.
Evelyne immediately understood. The girl had to be the one who would take care of her in her new home.
She was young, perhaps only a few years Evelyne’s junior. Her features were soft and pleasant. Her skin was a deep, warm brown, her dark curly hair gathered neatly at the nape of her neck. She was short and slim, with a quiet poise that made her seem smaller still.
She was from the South. A lady’s maid chosen from the prince’s homeland to ease her transition. It was practical.Logical. And yet, it was another silent reminder of how much she was leaving behind.
Alaric’s voice cut through the moment. “Are you all right, Princess?”
Evelyne turned her head slightly, realizing that she must have drifted off enough for someone to notice. His expression was genuine, but she had no interest in entertaining unnecessary concern.
“I am well, Your Highness,” she replied evenly, offering him a smile.
She held his gaze for a moment longer. Then, smoothing the fabric of her gown, she stood up from her seat.
“If you will excuse me, I believe I shall retire for the night,” she said.
