The cold light of dawn filtered through the stained-glass windows of the palace's west wing, casting hues on Evelyn's silver-white battle robe—yet it only accentuated the lingering worry between her brows. The lingering warmth of their intimacy in the Spring Pavilion the night before still clung to her, but her heart was once again shrouded in frost by the chaos of the Crimson Moon Tower. Lucian, noting her restlessness, asked softly, "Your Highness, is there unfinished business?"
Evelyn sighed, her fingertips brushing the rolled-up "Post-Snow Reconstruction Decree" in her hands. "Though the post-snow reconstruction has begun, the people's hearts waver because of the undead illusions. At today's noon feast, I will invite elders from all regions, the new faction of the Holy See, and elected civilian representatives to discuss the 'Reconstruction of Hearts'—to mend this rift with the light of truth."
Lucian's resolve steadied. "I will stand at your side, sword and shield in hand, to guard this gathering of souls."
When the sun hung high, long tables were laid in the palace hall, their surfaces adorned with cast holy discs intertwining flames and snow patterns. Noble elders, Holy See masters, and common scholars took their seats, their faces a mix of anticipation and lingering fear. Evelyn, in a plain golden robe, entered the hall and tapped her scepter lightly on the center of the table. "The 'Reconstruction of Hearts' must be built on openness, dialogue, and trust. Today, I will listen to your voices personally, and we shall establish a new code of the heart."
A cool breeze swept through the pillars as a scholar spoke first, proposing "Days of Public Discourse" in local council halls, where citizens and clergy could jointly participate in prayers and reforms. A Holy See representative suggested a "Altar of Truth" in churches, where people might write their wishes to be burned in sacred fire. Elected civilians advocated for "Midnight Snow Lamps"—each household lighting a lamp on snowy nights as a symbol of hope.
Evelyn noted each proposal, then spoke with a tone both gentle and powerful: "All your ideas are good. Starting tomorrow, every town in the realm will hold a 'Festival of Sincerity'—discussions by day, lamps by night, to soothe the rifts with light. The Holy See and the royal family will act as one; no one shall stir fear to unsettle the people again." Applause mingled with the tap of wooden fish, kindling a new spark of trust.
After the feast, Evelyn retreated to the north pavilion of the imperial garden to ponder alone. Lucian followed, offering a cup of warm tea. "Your Highness, this gathering will heal the rifts."
She took a small sip, but shadows still lingered in her eyes. "The 'White Seal Envoy' and General Reynold's troubles—these are the most stubborn tumors left by the hidden tides. Reconstructing hearts cannot be done in a single night."
Lucian pulled her into his arms. "If healing is needed, let tonight's snow lamps and candlelight bear witness—at this moment, the courage and trust in our hearts are enough to melt all fissures."
Night fell again, and ten thousand households lit lamps across the city. Candles glowed on windowsills, doorsteps, and streets, their warm light flickering like a million ancient sparks of hope in the snowy dark.
Evelyn and Lucian returned to the Spring Pavilion. The murmur of the spring and the glow of snow lamps intertwined, casting their intertwined shadows. She shed her heavy robes, wearing only a thin silk nightgown, her lips soft and calm, yet brimming with unspoken tenderness. "Lucian, if these hearts can be rebuilt, I would walk with you step by step, even through storms ahead."
Lucian bent to kiss her ear, his fingertips brushing her neck, loosening the silk buttons. "If the heart holds a lamp, there is no fear of night."
Beneath candlelight and snow glow, they merged again. Lucian laid Evelyn gently on the stone couch, his lips and tongue trailing from her neck to her collarbone—each touch a brushstroke of warming light. Evelyn looped her arms around his neck, her fingers quietly undoing the buttons of his ,feeling the heat of his solid chest.
In this moment, they were no longer monarch and subject, no longer comrades-in-arms—only two souls clinging to each other through trust and love. Their kisses deepened from soft to fervent, their fingers venturing to the most intimate places, stirring tremors in a rhythm as delicate as breath. As love and desire fused in the snowy night, every fissure and fear was mended by passion and trust.