That instead of answer earned him a precisely measured side glance. He laughed once, too loud, then stopped when she didn’t join him. He stared at her for a moment.
“You’re serious.”
“I turned that idea over once or twice,” she admitted sweetly. “You were the one to accept the marriage offer from my family. Some might call it brave.” She tilted her head, just slightly. “Others might call it convenient.”
Alright, that wasn’t the answer he’d expected.
She kept going, the line of her mouth unmoved. “A bride with blood on her hands, rescued by a golden prince from the west,” her gaze didn’t waver. “No concern for reputation.”
Alaric let out a breath and scratched the back of his neck. “Alright, that’s… suspicious when you put it like that.” He leaned back slightly.
She raised a brow. “Imagine that.”
Alaric’s throat felt dry all of a sudden, like someone had pressed a thumb to the ancient part of his chest.
He saw a flicker, like déjà vu pulled tight across an old bone.
A woman stood in the moonlight, draped in red and shadow; her lips moved, though he couldn’t hear the words. They felt warm and cold at once, sinking into him like a memory he shouldn’t have. A rush of betrayal followed, sharp and sudden, leaving behind the hollow ache of something once loved and long lost.
He blinked few times, and the cliff was back. Evelyne was still watching him, with eyes that made him feel like he’d been caught dreaming out loud.
“You…you really think I orchestrated your fiancé’s murder,” he murmured carefully.
“I think I’d be a fool not to consider it,” she replied. “Especially when your court had every reason to benefit. Like the army, for example.”
He swallowed; the vision vanished into nothing. “That’s fair.”
She tilted her head, the breeze catching a loose strand of her hair. “You play this game well, Alaric. But you’re not untouchable.”
“I didn’t come here to manipulate you,” he explained finally, voice quieter now, rawer. “But I see why you’d question.”
“Yes, you’re good at questions,” she countered. “Not so much at answers.”
“Itwasconvenient. I am not going to lie to you,” he admitted. “But no—I didn’t kill him. And if I were plotting something like that, I probably wouldn’t have sent my most obvious self to follow through on it.”
“Or maybe you’re arrogant enough to think no one would questionyou.”
He forced the lump down his throat. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”
Terrifying, in the best possible way.
“I’ve just had enough of men deciding my direction and expecting me to look pleased about it.”
Alaric’s jaw tensed. For a moment, he was still, watching her as if something in her had shifted beyond his comprehension.
He leaned in. “You’re not alone in this, Evelyne.”
“Am I?”
He didn’t have a clever line waiting.
“We need a plan,” she declared, tearing her gaze away. “A proper order. I’ll go to the castle Archives. It’ll be easier to justify my presence there—Vesena will accompany me.”
Alaric leaned back on one hand, the other resting near the heel of the wine bottle. “No offense, but that’s a waste of time.”
She turned to look at him—slow, sharp, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “No offense?” she repeated, incredulous.
“If we want real answers, we should be searching the tunnels,” he explained.
