The rain had returned by morning.
Soft sheets of mist clung to the palace gardens, turning every statue into a ghost of marble and memory. Evelyn stood by the window of her guest room, watching droplets race each other down the glass.
Sleep had not come easily.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her father's name stamped beneath the royal crest — the mark of betrayal.
And every time she tried to bury that thought, she saw Prince Edward's face instead — his quiet determination, the sincerity in his eyes.
She hated that his presence comforted her.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," she called, straightening her dress.
Edward entered, not in royal uniform this time, but in a plain gray coat. It made him seem… less a prince, more a man.
"I thought you might want to see this," he said, holding out a folder.
Evelyn took it warily. "What is it?"
"The report you couldn't find yesterday. It was sealed under an old security classification. Someone didn't want it read."
They sat together by the table, the air thick with the smell of rain and old paper.
When she broke the seal, several faded sheets slid out. Evelyn's breath caught.
There — at the bottom of one page — was a signature she recognized.
"General Harrington…" she whispered. "He commanded the last battalion before my father's disappearance."
Edward leaned closer, his jaw tightening as he scanned the text. "This mentions a classified mission — 'Operation Dawnveil.' It was never recorded in the official war summaries."
Evelyn frowned. "My father mentioned Dawnveil in one of his letters. He said he couldn't trust everyone in his unit. That someone had already sold information to the enemy."
Edward's gaze lifted to hers. "You think Harrington betrayed him?"
"I don't know," she said softly, "but I intend to find out."
Their eyes held longer than they should have. Outside, thunder rolled distantly, a low rumble echoing through the walls.
Hours passed as they compared documents, notes, and fragmented communications.
Evelyn noticed the prince's focus — how his fingers brushed lightly against each line, how his voice lowered when he spoke of her father.
He treated her pain not as weakness, but as something sacred.
When her hand trembled, he covered it with his own.
"Evelyn," he said quietly, "you don't have to face the ghosts alone."
She didn't pull away. "If I let someone share this burden," she murmured, "I might forget why I carried it."
"Then remember this instead," he replied. "Some burdens are shared not to lighten them, but to make them worth carrying."
The words settled between them like a promise neither dared to name.
A sudden knock broke the spell.
One of Edward's aides entered hurriedly. "Your Highness — the Queen has summoned General Harrington to the palace tomorrow. She requests your presence at the meeting."
Evelyn's head snapped up. "The Queen?"
Edward nodded slowly. "It seems your questions have reached higher ears than we expected."
Her pulse quickened. "Do you think she knows?"
"I think," Edward said carefully, "that we are being watched."
He looked at her then — not as a prince bound by duty, but as a man standing on the edge of something dangerous, and beautiful.
"Stay close to me, Evelyn," he said. "Whatever happens next… don't face them alone."
That night, Evelyn couldn't sleep.
She stood again by the window, lightning painting her reflection in flashes of white and shadow.
She touched the glass where his hand had rested earlier — and for a fleeting second, she wished she could stay in that moment forever, where truth and love weren't enemies.
But dawn would come soon.
And with it, the reckoning.