The rain had not stopped.
Outside the palace, the storm raged through the night as if the heavens themselves mourned what had been uncovered below the chapel.
Edward led Evelyn through the servants' corridor, every torch they passed hissing against the damp air. When they reached his study, he shut the heavy oak doors behind them and locked them.
They stood there for a long moment, breathing hard — the silence between them heavy, trembling, alive.
Evelyn placed the box of documents on the table. "These papers will expose him. We need to show them to the Queen before Harrington destroys what's left."
Edward didn't answer immediately. His eyes lingered on her — her hair damp and tangled, her lips pale but defiant, her hands still shaking from adrenaline.
"You could have been killed," he said finally. "You shouldn't have come with me."
She met his gaze. "Then you would've died down there alone."
His jaw tightened, but there was warmth beneath the tension — something raw and frightened. "You don't understand what that means, Evelyn. Being with me… defying the Council… it's treason."
She stepped closer. "So is the truth."
The words hung in the air like a spark between flint and steel.
Edward turned away, pacing to the window. "All my life, I've been told that duty comes before desire — before anything. But tonight, when I thought you might not come back up those stairs…"
He stopped himself.
Evelyn approached him slowly, her voice soft but steady. "You don't have to finish."
He turned to her then, rainlight glinting in his eyes. "I do."
He reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek — hesitant at first, as if asking permission.
She didn't pull away.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Then the world outside — the thunder, the storm, the lies — all faded away.
He lowered his forehead against hers. "Tell me this isn't madness."
Her whisper trembled. "Then we'll be mad together."
Their lips met — not with desperation, but with all the quiet, aching restraint of two souls who had waited too long.
The kiss was deep, yet gentle, like a promise whispered through chaos.
When they finally broke apart, Evelyn rested her head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat — fast, uneven, human.
Edward whispered, "Tomorrow we face them. No more secrets."
She nodded. "Together."
The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting golden light across their faces.
Outside, the rain began to ease — as though the storm itself bowed before the flame now burning between them.