EVELINA
The letter came in silence.
It was left on her writing desk without a word from the servant who brought it, sealed in black wax marked with the crest of House Montclair. Evelina knew before opening it that it would not bring comfort. Her hands trembled slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
My lady,
There are things between us that cannot be settled through rumor or letters. I ask only for a moment of your time. Meet me in the old chapel by the southern road before nightfall. There is truth you must hear from me, and from no one else.
Montclair
She read it twice, each word cutting deeper than the last.
For weeks she had hoped the storm around her family would fade. She had prayed that reason would return to the court, that the accusations would crumble under the weight of their absurdity. But nothing had eased. The Everleigh estate was still under investigation, her father's health was failing beneath the stress, and every day the servants whispered new rumors about Alistair Montclair and what he might do next.
And now, he wanted to see her.
Her first instinct was to refuse. He had done enough harm. There was nothing he could say that would change what he had done. Yet another voice within her whispered that if she turned away, she would never be free of him.
So she went.
The sky was bruised with the color of dusk when Evelina reached the chapel. The building had long since fallen into neglect, its once-white stone now gray and veined with ivy. The great door creaked as she pushed it open.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of dust and rain. The light of the setting sun filtered through the cracked windows, falling across the empty pews.
Alistair stood near the altar. He turned as she entered, the light catching his face in uneven shadows. He looked almost the same as he had months ago, when he had been the most admired man in the court, proud, handsome, precise in every gesture but there was something brittle in him now, as if the edges of his composure had begun to crack.
"My lady," he said. "You came."
"I said I would never hide," Evelina replied. Her voice was calm, though her pulse thundered in her chest.
He smiled faintly. "You are still brave. I always admired that."
"Do not call it bravery," she said. "I came because you left me no choice."
Alistair inclined his head, accepting her anger as though it were a formality. "I thought perhaps we might speak before the court makes its judgment. I have heard that your father has taken ill."
"You have heard because you caused it," Evelina said. "Do not pretend to be concerned."
He sighed softly. "I did not wish for this to happen. But certain choices leave no gentle path."
She stepped closer. "You speak as if ruin were a natural thing, as if it simply fell from the sky. But it was your hand that brought it here."
Alistair's eyes darkened. "I did what I had to. You do not understand the weight of what I carry."
"I understand enough," she said. "I understand that you lied. You let the court believe my father financed the rebellion. You stood silent while our name was dragged through mud. And all because you could not bear to lose."
He did not move, but something in his expression faltered. "You think this was only pride."
"What else could it be?"
He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I spent years building my place in the court. I was trusted by the King. I was a voice that mattered. Then he came, your Ravenscroft and suddenly I was the shadow. The King turned cold. The council began to question my loyalty. All the ground I had built was taken from beneath me. You think I could simply accept that?"
Evelina's voice trembled, but not from fear. "So you decided to take from others instead."
"I decided to remind them what they owed me," he said. "I gave my life to that court. I earned every ounce of the power they so easily forgot."
"And you destroyed my family to prove it," she said.
Alistair's voice lowered. "You were part of it, Evelina. You, more than anyone. When I looked at you, I saw peace, I saw something honest in a world that knows nothing of honesty. I thought perhaps with you beside me, I could still find what I had lost."
Her throat ached. "You call this love?"
"I call it survival," he said. "When you turned from me, when you chose him, you chose the path that leads to your own ruin. I tried to stop you from falling."
She shook her head slowly. "You are lying to yourself. You are not saving me, Alistair. You are punishing me."
The words struck him like a blow. He turned his face toward the shattered window, his expression hidden by the light. "Perhaps," he said softly. "Perhaps I only wanted you to see what happens when you give your heart to a man who does not understand what the world is made of."
"Lucian understands more than you ever did," she said.
Alistair looked back at her sharply. "He is a dreamer. The kind the court devours. The King tolerates him because of his sister, but that protection will fade. When it does, he will fall, and he will drag you with him."
"Then let him," she said. "At least I will fall for something true."
Her voice broke slightly, but she stood firm. The echo of her words filled the chapel and seemed to linger, pressing against the old stones.
Alistair's expression changed then. The anger drained from it, replaced by something sadder, quieter. "Do you think I wanted this?" he asked. "Do you think I wanted to hurt you?"
She did not answer at once. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of everything she wanted to say. When she finally spoke, her tone was steady. "I think you wanted me to come to you. I think you wanted me to beg for what you took. But I will not. Whatever power you think you hold over me, it ends here."
He took a step closer, his voice rougher now. "You speak as if I am a monster. You do not know what it is to be left behind by the world you built. To be forgotten by the throne you defended. I gave everything, Evelina. Everything. And when it was gone, I looked for one thing that was still real. That was you."
"I pity you," she said quietly. "But I cannot forgive you."
He flinched, just barely. "And yet, you came."
"I came to tell you that your games are over," she said. "You may have fooled the court for now, but the truth will rise. It always does."
He looked at her for a long time, his eyes unreadable. "And when it does, what will it cost you?"
"Whatever it must," she said. "I will not live in silence to protect a lie."
The wind moved through the cracks in the walls, stirring the dust. Somewhere outside, a bell tolled in the distance.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Alistair's shoulders seemed to sag slightly. "You are stronger than I imagined," he said at last. "Perhaps that is what I envied most."
Evelina's eyes softened despite herself. "You could have been better, Alistair. You could have been great. But you let bitterness consume everything it touched."
His smile was faint, tired, and almost human again. "Maybe I still can be," he said. "If I end this."
"Then end it," she said. "Stop before there is nothing left to save."
He nodded slowly, though she could not tell if he meant it. "Perhaps one day, when all of this has burned itself out, you will remember me kindly."
"I will remember the man you were," she said. "Not the one you became."
Evelina turned to leave. The air felt colder as she walked toward the doorway, her steps echoing through the empty chapel.
Behind her, Alistair spoke one last time, his voice barely above a whisper. "Evelina."
She stopped, her hand on the door.
"I never meant to lose you," he said.
She closed her eyes. "You did not lose me, Alistair. You threw me away."
When she stepped outside, the sky had turned to twilight. The trees whispered softly in the wind, their branches brushing against the stones as if to erase the memory of what had just passed.
Evelina drew her cloak tighter and walked back toward the road. Her heart ached, but the weight inside her felt clearer now, shaped by something solid.
She had faced the man who had broken her world and found that he no longer had the power to shatter her.
Whatever came next, she would not yield.
She would stand for the truth, even if she had to stand alone.