Morning came dressed in gold and fire. The palace, for all its splendor, felt hollow as if even the walls had begun to whisper her name.
Lady Evelyne.
Daughter of House Ashthorn.
The girl who returned from death with vengeance braided into her hair.
And today, she was invited to the Royal Opera.
An honor. A spectacle. A trap.
Inside the grand hall, music soared, crystal chandeliers glinting like stars caught in webs. Nobles lounged in velvet, their masks glittering beneath candlelight. Even the Queen attended, hidden behind a fan of white peacock feathers.
But all eyes drifted toward the balcony where Evelyne arrived.
No mask.
No hesitation.
Only her name on every trembling tongue.
The prince watched from the opposite side of the theater, lips pressed tight, fingers curled in his lap.
"She's making a statement," murmured one advisor.
"No," Lucien replied. "She's making a war declaration."
Halfway through the second act, a scene in the play mirrored Evelyne's old life far too closely.
A woman, falsely accused, betrayed by her betrothed, stood alone on the stage, fire at her feet.
Evelyne's breath hitched.
And for the first time in many nights, the girl who burned rose in her throat.
She stood abruptly.
And walked out.
Gasps followed her like falling petals.
Lucien followed.
He caught her in the empty corridor behind the opera hall. The silence between them was heavier than any song.
"You planned this, didn't you?" Evelyne said without turning.
"I didn't choose the performance," he said. "But I stayed. I had to see if it still hurt you."
She faced him then.
Eyes like dusk. Voice like ice.
"It didn't hurt me, Lucien. It hollowed me out."
He took a step forward. "Evelyne"
"No," she cut in. "Don't speak to me like you're sorry. You let them kill me once. I won't give you the chance to do it again."
Lucien's expression twisted. "Do you think this is easy for me?"
You should hope it never becomes easy," she whispered. "Because when I tear down this empire of lies, I want you to remember that I gave you a choice.
Lucien opened his mouth, but she was already gone.
And all he could do was stand in the shadow of the woman he'd once sworn to protect realizing far too late, he'd turned her into the very thing the court feared.
The girl who burned had returned as the flame itself.