It was well past midnight when the knock came again.Softer this time.But heavier somehow.
I already knew who it was.
I opened the door without a word.And there she was.
Evelyne.
No escort. No cloak.No war paint of nobility.
Just her.Eyes rimmed with exhaustion.Hair wind-blown.And fury simmering just beneath her skin.
She stepped in without waiting for an invitation.Closed the door behind her with a soft click.
We stared at each other.The silence thick with things we hadn't said.
Then, finally—"I warned you they were watching," she muttered."I didn't think they'd move this fast."
"They're cornered," I replied."Cornered beasts always bite first."
She sank into the chair by the fire, one hand over her eyes.For a long while, neither of us spoke.
The only sound was the soft crackling of the flames.
Then, softly—"They accused me of treason, Leonhart."Her voice was steady. Too steady.
"They danced around the word, but it was there. In every glance. Every question."
I moved beside her, slowly.Poured her a glass of wine.Not court wine—mine. The kind that burned going down and made your sins feel warm.
She took it.Drank deeply.Didn't thank me.Didn't need to.
I watched her for a long moment.Not the mask she wore, but the woman beneath.
And I said, low and quiet:"You can still walk away, Evelyne. They haven't named you yet. Haven't broken you."
At that, she laughed.Bitter. Beautiful.Shaking her head.
"Walk away?" she whispered."I crossed the line the moment I chose you."
She turned to face me then.And in her eyes, I didn't see regret.I saw fire.And pain.
"I knew what I was doing, Leonhart. I knew exactly what you were planning."She leaned forward."And I chose to stand beside you, not because I believe in your throne…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper."But because I want to burn them just as badly as you do."
Something inside me twisted.
I didn't respond.Not with words.
I just reached out—slowly—and brushed a strand of hair from her face.My fingers lingered, just a second too long.
She didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
But her eyes flicked down to my mouth.
Then away.
And she stood.
Fast.
Breaking the moment like it meant nothing.
"We move soon," she said flatly."If they push me out of the council, we lose our best line inside."
I nodded."Then we strike first."
Just as I spoke, another knock came.
But this one—This one was different.
Louder.Heavier.Like the knuckles hitting wood belonged to someone who hadn't knocked in years.
Evelyne's eyes flicked to the door.I moved to open it.
A woman stood there.Tall. Cloaked in rough leather.One eye scarred shut.The other? Sharp as a dagger.
"You're him?" she asked, voice rasping like gravel."The prince who wants to break the world?"
I smiled."Depends. You looking to help me break it, or stop me?"
She stepped inside.Dropped something heavy on the floor.
A sack.Stained.
It hit the wood with a wet thud.
When I opened it—Inside were three heads.
Rotting.Marked with the sigil of the Western Trade Council.
"I'm not here to ask," she said."I'm here to join."
I stared at her.Then back at the sack.And then—I laughed.
Deep.Genuine.
"Name?" I asked.
She cracked her neck."Call me Vira."
I turned to Evelyne.She was watching Vira closely.Assessing. Measuring.
Then, to my surprise—She smiled.
"Good," she said."She's exactly what we need."
As the fire burned behind us, and the storm outside raged louder, I looked at the two women in the room.
One, a noble born in velvet and venom.The other, a killer forged in blood and grit.
And me—A prince without a crown.A villain building an army from ashes.
This was not how heroes won kingdoms.
But I was no hero.And this was no fairytale.
This was a war.And I had just found my generals.