I don’t look back. I cross the room and yank open the door. The only reason I don’t slam it hard enough to rattle the frame is I don’t want to wake up Millie down the hall.
Exhaling sharply, I close the door and stalk to my room, my pulse pounding in my ears.
24
EVA
The farmers sit around the long table like a row of storm clouds. It’s a mild day in early October, but they’re wearing wool caps. Their work boots are planted wide. Their arms are crossed.
Every pair of eyes says the same thing,I don’t trust you right now. Change my mind.
The union president, Rémy Dumarais, a wiry man with a weathered face, clears his throat. “We’ve read the new duke’s proposed tourism plan. These hiking trails and eco-camping sites will cut into our summer grazing land.”
“It’s Castellane land,” I point out. “Just to be clear.”
“We’re aware, Your Grace,” Lara Barbis, across from me, says.
“But the dukes have always let us graze there,” Rémy argues. “Always. My grandfather?—”
I hold up a hand. “And that tradition will continue.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s not the impression we get from the plan.”
“We’ll make it clearer then,” I reply. “The trails will be discreet. The camping areas are small and placed so that thecattle can still roam as always. Economically, nothing will change for you.”
A few hats tilt backward in silent doubt.
Lara’s son, broad as a doorway, leans in. “You expect tourists not to bother the cattle?”
“The duchy of Arrago has a similar program, and it works fine,” I say. “Hikers and nature lovers tend to be a responsible bunch. They’ll be briefed. There’ll be signage. And the trails will be routed to keep human and bovine traffic apart.”
Murmurs ripple around the table.
I suppress a bitter smirk. Not at them—at myself. I just missed a chance to score points against Alex by siding with the farmers. One jab at his plan, and they’d be eating out of my hand.
But instead, I defended him. “The duke isn’t trying to take anything away from you,” I say. “It’s about diversifying the estate’s income to support us all. Including the grazing tradition.”
There’s a subtle shift in the room. Eyes become less defiant. Postures soften.
And just like that, I’m Alex’s mouthpiece.
Why, Eva?Why?
He’s a jerk. Millie and I are leaving as soon as the verdict drops. I have no reason to carry his water. Yet I keep going.
“You’ll still have every hectare you’ve had before,” I declare. “And the estate will still cover the maintenance of the pastures.”
Rémy exhales through his nose. “So, you’re guaranteeing this?”
“Yes,” I say. “On behalf of the duke, yes.”
More murmurs. Not hostile—relieved.
I slide the stack of maps across the table. “Here’s the grazing overlay against the proposed trails. See for yourselves. The overlap is minimal. Barely a few meters in some spots.”
They lean over the papers, tracing the lines with blunt fingers.
Young Nico looks up. “If that’s true, maybe it’s not so bad.”
