The letter came just before dusk.
Evelina had been sitting in her chamber by the window, the light fading across the hills, when a quiet knock sounded at her door. Her maid entered, curtsying quickly before holding out a sealed envelope.
"This was left with the kitchen boy, my lady," she said. "No name was given."
The seal was black wax, pressed with a crest she knew too well.
Ravenscroft.
Evelina dismissed the maid with a trembling thank you, then broke the seal with careful fingers. The scent of rain still clung to the parchment. The handwriting was sharp, deliberate, unmistakably his.
Evee,
There are things you must hear from me, not from those who would twist them. Come tonight, after the bell. The back alley behind Whitcombe's candle shop near the South Wall. You will be safe there. I swear it.
— Lucian
Her heart beat so hard it almost drowned out the sound of the rain beginning again beyond the glass.
For a long moment she sat motionless, staring at the words. She should not go. Her father's warning echoed in her mind. So did Thomas's. The court was already whispering her name beside his. To meet him now would be the same as placing herself at the center of their gossip.
But the thought of doing nothing was worse.
If she stayed silent, the rumors would grow without restraint. The court would decide the story for her. And Lucian would face the fury of Montclair's faction alone.
She folded the letter carefully and slipped it inside her cloak. The sun had almost set. She waited until the hallways of Everleigh Hall grew quiet and the servants retreated to their quarters.
When the bells tolled, Evelina wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and slipped through the servants' corridor. Her slippers made no sound against the cold stone floor.
Outside, the night air was sharp with the scent of rain and smoke. Lanterns burned along the streets of the capital, their light trembling in puddles. She kept her hood low, the hem of her gown brushing the cobblestones as she moved through narrow lanes few nobles dared to walk.
The candle shop stood near the edge of the old quarter, its windows dark, its door locked. Baron Whitcombe had owned it once, long ago, before such places had become too humble for a man of his rank. Now it was used for quieter things.
Evelina circled to the back alley, her breath misting in the chill air. The street was empty except for the soft drip of water from the eaves.
Then a voice came from the shadows. "Evee."
She turned, and he stepped into the faint light.
Lucian Ravenscroft.
He wore a dark coat, his hair damp from the rain. The faint gleam of a silver clasp at his collar caught the lamplight. His expression was calm, but she could see the exhaustion around his eyes.
For a moment neither of them spoke. The sound of the rain filled the silence between them.
"You came," he said at last.
"You asked me to."
He smiled, though it was faint and tired. "I did not know if you would."
"I nearly didn't," she admitted. "If my father knew I was here, he would never forgive me."
"Then let us speak quickly," he said softly. "I will not keep you long."
He opened the door to the back of the shop and led her inside. The air smelled faintly of wax and soot. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with candles of every shape and size. Only one lantern burned, its small light flickering against the glass.
Lucian waited until the door was closed before speaking again. "The rumors have grown faster than I expected. Montclair has set his entire network against us. He has twisted every glance, every word we have shared, into something unclean."
Evelina felt a chill run through her. "They say I sought your favor. That I'm using you to gain influence. That I am another of the court's women who trade loyalty for power."
Lucian's eyes darkened. "It is a lie. I will not let it stand."
She shook her head. "How can you stop it? The court lives on lies. They feed on them."
"Then I will starve them of it."
He stepped closer, his voice low but certain. "I will speak to the council myself. I will make it clear that you have done nothing to deserve this. I will name Montclair for what he is."
"Lucian, if you accuse him directly, he will turn the crown against you. The Grand Duke already has half the council under his command."
"Then let him," Lucian said. "I am not afraid of Montclair or his allies. They can strip me of titles if they wish, but they will not touch your name. I will not allow it."
Evelina looked up at him, her throat tight. "You cannot fight them all."
"I do not need to fight them all," he said softly. "Only the one who leads them."
The determination in his eyes frightened her almost as much as it moved her. She took a step forward, her voice trembling. "I never wanted this for you. I never wanted to be the reason you risked everything."
"You are not the reason," he said. "You are the only thing that makes it worth risking."
Her breath caught. The room felt smaller, filled with the faint scent of wax and rain.
"Lucian," she began, but her voice broke.
He reached out then, slowly, giving her every chance to move away. When she did not, his fingers brushed hers, warm against her chilled skin.
"I will set things right," he said. "I give you my word. You will not be shamed because of me. I will face the council, the Grand Duke, the court itself if I must. You will not carry this burden."
Tears stung her eyes before she could stop them. "Why do you always sound so certain, even when the world is falling apart?"
"Because someone has to be," he said quietly. "And because I cannot bear to see you afraid."
She closed her eyes, the tears slipping free. He caught one with his thumb, his touch gentle.
"I wish I could keep you from all of this," he said. "But I cannot. So I will do what I can. I will protect your name, your family, everything they threaten to use against you. I swear it."
"You cannot protect me from the court," she whispered. "You can only protect me from myself."
He gave a small, sad smile. "Then I will do both."
For a moment the world felt very still. The lantern light flickered, throwing soft shadows across the shelves. Evelina felt his breath near hers, the warmth of it breaking through the chill.
"Lucian," she said, barely a whisper.
He met her gaze. "Yes."
"I am afraid."
"So am I."
Neither moved at first. Then, slowly, as if drawn by something older than fear, he lifted his hand to her face. His fingers traced the line of her jaw, the touch careful, reverent.
She leaned into it, her heart beating so loudly she thought he might hear it.
When he kissed her, it was not with urgency or desperation, but with a quiet honesty that stole the air from her lungs. The world around them vanished. The sound of rain faded. All that remained was the warmth of his lips against hers, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her hand.
It was a promise more than a confession. A vow made not with words but with the certainty that, whatever came, they would face it together.
When they parted, her breath trembled. His forehead rested lightly against hers.
"I should not have done that," he said softly.
"I am glad you did." she blushed.
He laughed quietly, the sound tired but real. "You make it very difficult to think clearly."
"Perhaps that is what you need," she said. "To stop thinking."
For a moment they simply stood there, the silence gentle now instead of heavy.
Then Lucian straightened, his expression returning to the calm she knew so well. "You must go before you are missed. The streets will be watched soon."
She nodded, though part of her wanted to stay, to let the night hide them both.
He walked her to the door and opened it just enough to see the alley beyond. The rain had begun again, fine and steady.
Evelina stepped out, pulling her hood up. Lucian lingered behind her, his hand brushing hers once more.
"Trust me," he said quietly. "By morning, I will begin to set this right."
"I trust you," she whispered.
He gave a small nod. "Then go. And whatever you hear in the days to come, believe only what comes from me."
She hesitated, then turned and walked into the rain. Her footsteps echoed softly against the stones. When she looked back once, he was still standing in the doorway, a shadow against the dim light of the shop.
Evelina drew her cloak tighter around her and made her way through the empty streets. The rain washed against her face, cool and steady, and she felt both lighter and heavier at once.
The court would not be kind. She knew that. The whispers would grow before they faded. But for the first time, she did not feel helpless beneath them.
Lucian would keep his word. And whatever storm waited beyond the palace walls, she would not face it alone.