The sound of hooves thundered down the gravel path of Ashthorn Manor as a royal crest flapped from a polished black carriage. Guards in silver and blue dismounted, forming a protective ring.
Prince Lucien had arrived.
Evelyne stood at the top of the grand steps, cloaked in velvet and shadow. Her expression betrayed nothing but her heartbeat roared like war drums in her chest.
The last time he stood here, he came bearing a ring.
This time, he brought a warning.
Lucien descended from the carriage with that same careful grace the one she used to mistake for nobility. Now she saw it for what it was: restraint wrapped in politics.
"My lady," he said, offering a shallow bow.
"Your Highness," she replied, voice smooth. "No guards in the dining room, I assume?"
He gave her a long look, then nodded once. "Of course."
The dining room was cold.
Not in temperature but in memory.
This was where she first confessed her hopes of becoming queen. Where Lucien swore he'd protect her. Where her betrayal was born, not from lies but from silence.
Now, she sat across from him at the long oak table, crystal glasses untouched.
"You've caused quite the stir," he began.
"You mean I've survived," she said. "A crime in your court."
Lucien exhaled. "You've made enemies of nearly every noble house."
"No," Evelyne said. "I've reminded them that I was never their friend."
He looked at her, truly looked and saw the frost beneath her fire. "Why didn't you run?"
"Because I already did that once," she whispered. "And I burned anyway."
Silence settled like a shroud.
Lucien reached into his coat and placed something on the table.
A silver hairpin.
Her mother's. Lost on the day of her arrest.
She stared at it.
"I kept it," he said. "Even when I doubted everything else."
Evelyne's fingers didn't move. "Why now?"
"Because the court is turning against the Queen. And they'll come for you next to keep the balance."
He leaned forward, eyes searching hers.
"I didn't come to threaten you, Evelyne. I came to ask what side of history you want me to stand on."
She looked at him.
The man who had let her fall.
The man who might now help her rise.
"Then listen carefully, Lucien," she said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "If you're here to follow me, you'll have to walk through the same fire that made me."
He didn't flinch.
"I'm not afraid of fire."
"Good," she said. "Because I intend to burn down the throne."
And this time Lucien didn't stop her.