The morning after the masquerade, the city was still wrapped in ice, but inside the Knight's mansion, something had thawed.
Emily stood at the window, watching the pale sun melt frost from the glass panes. She was still in her robe, hair unpinned from last night's elaborate twist. A part of her wished she'd kept the mask.
Because wearing it had made things easier.
She'd been bold. Unbothered. Powerful.
Now, stripped of costume and illusion, the vulnerability returned—quiet, but real.
Alexander entered without knocking, a habit he'd resumed in recent days. He didn't speak right away. Just stood beside her, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on the same window.
"You were brilliant last night," he said eventually.
She glanced at him. "You expected me to fail?"
"No," he replied. "But I didn't expect you to command the room."
She turned fully to him. "I didn't do it for the room. I did it so they'd know I won't be erased."
Alexander's mouth twitched slightly. Not quite a smile. "They know that now."
There was a pause.
Then Emily asked, "Who else was watching?"
He met her eyes. "Everyone."
---
Later that day, Miranda intercepted her in the library.
"You've shaken the balance, Emily," she said, flipping through a thick leather-bound book as though the subject were casual.
"Good," Emily replied. "It needed shaking."
Miranda's eyes flicked up. "Do you think this is a fairytale? That you can just outwit men like Benedict Ashthorne, outpace women like me, and rewrite your ending?"
Emily stepped closer. "Not a fairytale. A war story."
She held Miranda's gaze. "And I don't need to win every battle. I just need to survive long enough to choose how it ends."
Miranda's expression faltered for just a moment.
Then she smiled tightly. "I hope you're as good as you think you are."
---
That evening, Alexander called Emily into the study. She expected another briefing, another warning.
Instead, he handed her a small black box.
Inside was a phone—encrypted, custom-made.
"You'll need this," he said. "For what's coming."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "You're giving me tools now?"
"I'm giving you a choice," he replied. "You don't have to stay in the dark."
She stared at the device, then up at him.
"Why the sudden honesty?"
Alexander leaned on the edge of the desk. "Because whether I admit it or not, this isn't just about strategy anymore."
Emily's breath caught.
"And what is it about?"
He didn't answer with words.
Instead, he stepped closer, carefully, as though approaching something fragile.
But before he could touch her, Emily lifted the phone and said, "Then tell me everything. No more shadows."
Alexander nodded.
The mask, finally, was beginning to fall.