The capital had never been so quiet.
Not with a festival approaching. Not with a royal ball mere days away. And not with Evelyne Ashthorn's name on every tongue, as if she were both a prophecy and a curse.
The courtiers had started calling her something new now
The Lady Reborn.
And every noble who had once clapped while she burned… was now watching their steps.
Because Evelyne had begun walking toward them.
"You're making enemies faster than allies," Julian warned, pacing her chamber.
"Then they should've stayed neutral," Evelyne replied. "I'm not asking for kindness. I'm offering a choice."
"And what happens to those who don't choose you?"
Evelyne turned to the window, her voice calm.
"Then I'll remind them who taught me to be merciless."
That afternoon, an invitation arrived sealed with gold wax.
The Royal House was hosting a masquerade. One last show of peace before political chaos began. A tradition.
But this time, Evelyne knew what the invitation really meant.
A warning.
Or a challenge.
She smiled as she tucked it beneath her sleeve.
"They want to play pretend," she whispered. "Then let's give them a show."
The Masquerade of Masks
The palace shimmered in moonlight. Music swelled like a storm held barely at bay. Silk and perfume filled the air.
And then gasps. Silence.
Because she arrived.
Dressed in black threaded with crimson. Her mask was silver and expressionless, but everyone knew.
She was here.
"Is that?"
"She's not supposed to be"
"Did the prince invite her?"
But no one dared approach her.
Except him.
Prince Lucien crossed the ballroom with slow, measured steps.
He wore royal blue, a sapphire brooch pinned at his throat, and guilt in his eyes.
Evelyne didn't move.
"You're alive," he said softly.
"You're observant," she replied.
A beat of silence.
Then
"I didn't want it to happen," he whispered.
"You let it happen," she corrected.
"I thought I was protecting the kingdom."
Evelyne stepped closer.
"No. You were protecting your throne. And I was the cost."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "It was never meant to go that far."
"But it did," she said. "And now… I go farther."
He reached for her hand.
She let him.
Only for a moment.
Then she pulled away fingers slipping from his like smoke.
"This is your only warning, Lucien."
"For what?"
She leaned close.
"The kingdom won't burn for me."
"It'll burn because of me."
Then she walked away past the nobles, past the whispers, past the ghosts.
And Lucien, the prince who once watched her fall, stood utterly still.
Because for the first time…
He wasn't sure if he was looking at the girl he lost
Or the queen who would destroy him.