The wind stirred through the trees like whispered warnings.
Evelyne stood in the center of the ruined chapel, dust clinging to her cloak, heart steady in her chest. Across from her, Damien Kaelthorn leaned against a broken column, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
He hadn't changed much.
Still sharp-eyed. Still dangerous. Still carrying that weight in his voice, like every word could be a threat or a promise.
"You really came alone," he said quietly.
"Would it matter if I hadn't?"
Damien tilted his head. "You've changed."
"You helped teach me how."
He studied her for a long time. "No. The ones who broke you taught you that. I only gave you a blade when they handed you rope."
Evelyne's throat tightened. She didn't want to talk about the past not yet. But the ghosts clung to her like smoke.
"I need information," she said instead. "About the court. About Lucien."
At the prince's name, Damien's expression turned to steel.
"You still love him?" he asked, too casually.
"I loved the man he pretended to be."
Her voice didn't shake. Not anymore. Not for him.
Damien looked away, fingers curling slightly.
"He's not the same," Evelyne added. "But neither am I."
They sat by the old altar, a single lantern burning between them. Evelyne unrolled a map, placing her fingers over the Ashthorn estate and the nearby capital.
"Seven days until the prince arrives. I want to be ready before then."
"And what does 'ready' mean, Evelyne?" Damien asked. "A new dress and polite conversation? Or knives in their backs?"
"Both," she said softly.
Damien gave a dry laugh. "Now you sound like me."
"I don't want to become like you," Evelyne whispered.
He didn't look offended.
"No," he said. "You want to become worse. Because you still have something to lose."
She met his eyes across the map. "Then help me win first."
He looked at her for a long time.
Then he nodded once.
"I'll give you names. Allies. Secrets the crown tried to bury. But once you take the first step, there's no walking back."
Evelyne reached for the map and circled the first name he gave her.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not going back."
Later That Night…
Evelyne stood by her window, looking out at the moonlit gardens.
The stars above were the same. But she wasn't.
"They think they're playing a game," she whispered.
"But I've already seen the ending."
And this time, she would write a new one with ink, fire, and vengeance.