Dawn light like blood dyed the night cherry blossoms in Rahlian's outer courtyard. Evelyn was already practicing her dance on the imperial steps, her silver robe fluttering with each stride as moonlit mist lingered. Lucien stood nearby, sword in hand, his gaze deep and tender. "Your Highness," he called softly, "the wind is fierce before the hall this morning—take care."
Evelyn smiled over her shoulder, weariness lingering yet her poise unshaken. "With you to shield me from the wind, I can dance without care." As she spoke, she shattered a wisp of fog, her skirt flowing like a cloud. In that moment, wind and dance merged, a queen of ice and snow spinning in morning dew, leaving guards breathless. Lucien's heart warmed; he knew he would be her eternal bulwark, no matter the storm.
When the dance ended, Evelyn stepped to Lucien's side, and they stood shoulder to shoulder. Chancellor Gu hurried forward: "Your Highness, the silver smithy in East Market reports another case of privately minted metal flowing into the black market. The suspects are rumored to be descendants of old nobles." Evelyn's gaze sharpened. "Lucien, lead the Shadow Guards to investigate overnight. I will visit the market later to hold a public trial, so the people may witness justice."
Lucien clasped his hands in salute as guards beside him readied themselves. "We shall accompany Your Highness." Nodding, Evelyn instructed Chancellor Gu on remaining affairs before departing the palace with Lucien. The wind before the hall lifted her silver hair, a crown of royal light shining in the dawn.
East Market bustled as usual, with merchants shouting and commoners shopping, but tension lurked beneath the surface. Evelyn and Lucien's arrival sparked gasps. She had changed into a simple tunic, tucking her holy light emblem away to blend in as an ordinary visitor. Lucien followed, commanding Shadow Guards to disperse for a surprise raid.
Suddenly, several gray-clad artisans pushed a crate of fine silverware into an alley. The abnormal brilliance of the silverware drew a crowd. Evelyn stepped forward to inspect it, but the artisans panicked and tried to retreat, only to be intercepted by Lucien's guards. Inside the crate lay gilded silver pendants mixed with gold dust. Evelyn advanced, her voice clear as a bell: "These are privately minted by nobles, violating royal law. Please witness—this is the fate of illicit power." She ordered the arrest of the artisans and their master's attendants, calming the scene to the people's applause.
In the afternoon, in the royal study, Evelyn and Lucien sat side by side as the desk overflowed with morning's evidence. Her finger rested on an account book: "These funds flow to 'Night Voice Winery,' suggesting old nobles manipulate the black market through church finances." Lucien's eyes chilled: "When the Shadow Guards raid the winery tonight, I will oversee it with you."
She turned to him, eyes full of trust: "With you, all is prepared." He brushed a lock from her brow: "Your Highness, with me here, you need only be the brightest sovereign."
At dusk, the Fountain Pavilion in the royal garden lit up, a haven amid political tempests. Evelyn wore a deep purple robe, revealing the curve of her neck and collarbone. Lucien removed his cloak, embracing her gently: "Tonight, I promise you peace."
She pressed against his chest, undoing the medal at his breast: "Only you can remove my armor, only you can guard this weary heart."
Lucien bent to kiss her neck, one hand sliding from her shawl to her waist, fingertips tracing shivers across her skin. Evelyn murmured: "Let me forget the silver market turmoil and plots tonight, to linger only in this tipsy night with you."
Candlelight mingled with the fountain's melody as they embraced in the pavilion. Lucien laid her gently on the stone bench, undoing her robe with care. Silk fell away, revealing snow-white skin glowing in moonlight. Thin clouds passed, weaving their shadows in a blend of moon and candlelight.
His lips whispered in her ear, palm slipping beneath her robe to trace from neck to heart, over the royal blood mark. Evelyn's breath quickened with heat, fingers digging into his shoulders as she drew him into deeper longing. Filled with contentment, Lucien advanced slowly, sending waves of pleasure through her.
By firelight and the fountain's lullaby, their bodies and souls intertwined again, transforming every undercurrent and challenge into a silent vow through the night.
When the wind stilled deep in the night, only the fountain's murmur and distant insects sounded outside the pavilion. Evelyn and Lucien slept embraced, ready for tomorrow's storms—for they knew the capital, bound by their love and trust, would stand stronger in the tempest.