The following afternoon, the palace corridors were quieter than she expected.
Servants passed with soft steps, their eyes lowered, and guards stood like carved stone beside tall pillars.
Evelyn followed a young attendant through a long marble hallway lined with portraits. Kings, queens, generals — faces of power and legacy gazed down from the gilded frames.
Her father's face did not hang among them.
He fought for this crown, she thought bitterly. And it forgot him.
They stopped before a door etched with the royal crest. The attendant bowed and opened it. "His Royal Highness awaits, miss."
Evelyn stepped inside.
Prince Edward stood by a tall bookshelf, rolling a scroll in his hands. Sunlight spilled through the high window, catching in the gold trim of his uniform. He looked up as she entered.
"Miss Hartley," he greeted softly, "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I don't trust princes," she replied. "But I do trust evidence."
That drew a faint smile from him — the first genuine one she had seen. "Then perhaps we'll get along better than I thought."
He gestured for her to sit at a small oak table stacked with faded documents.
"These," he said, "are fragments from the military archives. I had to pull a few strings to bring them here."
Evelyn's heart quickened as she saw the official seals. "You risked that for me?"
"I risked it for the truth," he said simply.
As she began to sort through the pages, Edward watched in silence. Her focus was sharp, her fingers steady even as her eyes burned with emotion.
When she found her father's name, she froze. "Here—" she whispered. "Look."
Edward leaned closer, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of parchment and cedar on his uniform.
Their shoulders brushed. Neither moved away.
He's too close, Evelyn thought. Too calm. Too— human.
The document revealed a transfer order — dated two days before her father's last mission, signed by an unnamed superior officer. The seal was royal.
Her voice broke. "Someone used his loyalty against him."
Edward's expression hardened. "I'll find who."
For a moment, she looked up at him. Their eyes met — his gray, hers green — and the air between them stilled.
In the silence, the ticking of a nearby clock felt unbearably loud.
"You don't have to carry this alone," he said quietly.
"I've carried it since the day he died," she replied. "I don't know how to stop."
Edward's hand moved instinctively — not to touch her, but to rest near hers on the table.
Their fingers didn't meet, but the warmth of his presence was enough to steady her.
When the study door opened again, breaking the moment, they both turned quickly.
A butler bowed. "Your Highness, the Queen requests your presence."
Edward nodded. "Tell her I'll attend shortly."
When they were alone again, he looked back at Evelyn. "We'll continue this tomorrow. There's more here — things even I shouldn't see."
Evelyn gathered her papers. "You mean to help me until the end?"
His answer was firm. "Until the truth leaves no shadows."
As she walked down the corridor, her reflection followed her in the marble floor — small, uncertain, yet burning with new purpose.
Behind her, the faint echo of his footsteps lingered, though he had not moved.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
For the first time in years, Evelyn felt that something within her had begun to thaw.