EVELINA
The letter arrived just after sunset.
It came with no seal, only a strip of crimson wax pressed flat, the mark of someone who did not need to show their crest to be recognized. Evelina knew the handwriting the moment she saw it, careful and deliberate, a kind of elegance that never hid its intent.
She broke the seal with trembling fingers. The paper smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.
My dearest Lady Evelina,
It pains me to see your family brought to ruin for a cause that was never yours. The King's patience grows thin, and the court hungers for another scandal to feed upon. You may still avoid the worst of it if you choose wisely. Distance yourself from Lord Ravenscroft. Withdraw from his affairs, his company, his defense. The court will forget soon enough, and your father may yet be spared harsher judgment.
But if you persist, know that I cannot protect you from what follows. Ravenscroft is marked, and those who stand beside him will fall.
Choose, Evelina. Before choice is taken from you.
Montclair
The words blurred for a moment before her eyes. She folded the letter carefully and set it on the desk. Her pulse quickened until she could hear it in her ears.
The room felt too small. The air pressed against her chest until breathing became work. She stood and crossed to the window. Outside, the garden stretched into darkness, silvered by moonlight. The roses glimmered faintly against the stone walls.
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass.
Alistair's letter was more than a warning. It was a promise from a man who always hid his cruelty inside reason. He had lost power, but his reach had not shortened. He had chosen her to remind Lucian what defiance would cost.
She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, but Lucian's face filled her thoughts. His voice in the council hall. His calm even when surrounded by lies. The way her name sounded when he spoke it, like it had weight again.
She had told herself courage would be enough. That love, if it was real, could outlast politics and whispers. But courage did not stop letters from arriving in the dark or soldiers from waiting at her gates.
She turned from the window and could not bear the stillness another moment. She took her cloak and stepped outside.
The night air met her like a sigh. The roses were heavy with bloom, their scent clinging thick and sweet. Somewhere an owl called once and then fell silent.
The garden was too quiet. Too still. Evelina hated that silence. It made her heart sound louder than it should. The roses hung heavy in the air, their sweetness almost cloying, and she thought if she stayed another second, she might choke on it.
But he was there.
Lucian Ravenscroft. Tall, unreadable, half in moonlight, half in shadow as though he had been made for both. She wanted to look away, but she could not.
"You should not be here," she said, though the words shook, thin as glass.
He did not flinch. "I know." A pause. "But I could not stay away."
Her hands clenched in her skirts. "Do you even realize what this means? If anyone saw, if anyone guessed?"
"I know what it means," he said. His voice was quiet but certain. "I know better than anyone. And I do not care."
"You should care," she said softly. "My family is falling apart. My father is accused of treason. Every word they speak of us now carries poison. You cannot stand here as if we are free to choose anything."
He took a step closer. "Evee."
Her breath caught. Her name sounded different when he said it, stripped of title and distance.
"Let them ruin me," he said. "Let them ruin everything. I would rather be ruined than silent."
Her throat tightened. "You make it sound so simple. It is not simple. It will never be simple."
"Then tell me one thing," he said. His voice dropped lower, rough with feeling. "Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away. Tonight. I will let them bind me in duty and chain me in silence. I will do it. But if you do not, then say nothing. Just do not."
The garden held its breath. The wind stilled. Evelina could hear her own pulse, fast and uneven, louder than the night itself.
She tried to summon the lie, the words that would save them both. She tried to shape them in her mouth.
When she opened her lips, only the truth came out.
"I cannot," she whispered.
The truth slipped from her before she could stop it.
And that was all it took.
Lucian's eyes softened. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek. The touch was hesitant, almost afraid. She did not move away.
The air between them changed. She could hear the sound of leaves shifting, the faint trickle of water from the fountain. His closeness was steady and sure, and she felt for the first time that the noise of the world could not reach them here.
"I received a letter," she said at last. Her voice trembled. "From Montclair."
Lucian's hand dropped. His expression darkened. "What did he say?"
"That I should leave you. That nothing good will come of this."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "He will not stop until he has taken everything from us. First your family, then your name, now your heart."
She met his eyes. "What if he is right? What if this destroys us both?"
"Then we rebuild," he said. "But we will not surrender to him."
He stepped close again and rested his forehead against hers. "I promised you once that I would protect you. I meant it. Not just from scandal or rumor. From him. From every hand that thinks it can decide who we are. I will not let them."
"You cannot fight the entire court," she whispered.
"Then I will fight its shadows," he said quietly. "They have teeth, but so do I."
She almost laughed, though it broke on her tears. "You are impossible."
"So are you," he answered.
For a long moment they stayed like that, silent except for the soft rhythm of their breathing. The garden seemed to listen with them.
When he pulled back, his eyes burned with quiet resolve. "Tomorrow I will go to the King's steward. I will show him what I have found. If they wish to destroy the Everleigh name, they will have to do it while the truth stands in front of them."
"And if that truth is not enough?" she asked.
"Then I will make it enough."
Her breath trembled. "Be careful."
"I will," he said. "But I cannot promise to be quiet."
She smiled faintly. "I would not ask you to be."
The night air wrapped around them, cool and still. The fear was still there, but something stronger had taken root beneath it.
Lucian looked at her for a long moment. "Whatever Montclair does next, whatever the Marlowes whisper, remember this. They can ruin titles, not truth. You are still you, and that is what they fear most."
Evelina nodded, though her throat ached. "Go before someone sees you."
He hesitated, then bowed his head. "Until morning."
When he disappeared into the shadows, the silence that followed felt alive. The world had changed in the space of a breath, and she knew it could never return to what it had been.
She stood among the roses, their petals silver in the moonlight, the air sweet enough to make her dizzy. Her heart still raced, but no longer from fear.
She looked toward the window of her room where Alistair's letter waited on the desk.
He had asked her to choose.
She already had.