EVELINA
The carriage rattled softly over the cobbled road that led to Everleigh Hall. The sun had already begun to sink, casting long shadows through the forest that bordered the estate. Evelina sat beside Lucian, her hands clasped in her lap. Neither of them had spoken much since leaving the palace.
The world outside the window seemed deceptively calm. Birds wheeled above the treetops, and the air carried the faint scent of rain. But beneath that quiet, Evelina felt the tension growing, like a wire pulled too tight.
Lucian's voice broke the silence at last. "You do not have to go back tonight. It may not be safe."
She turned to him. "It is my home. If there is danger, I cannot hide from it."
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Then I will see you there."
The rest of the journey passed in silence. When the carriage rolled through the gates, Evelina's breath caught.
Everleigh Hall, which had always stood serene and proud among the hills, looked different now. The courtyard was crowded with carriages bearing royal insignias. Soldiers in the King's colors stood at the entrance, their presence as jarring as a stain on silk.
Lucian frowned. "They are not here for a social call."
The carriage came to a stop. A footman rushed forward, his face pale. "My lady," he said quickly, "thank heaven you have returned."
Evelina stepped down, her heart pounding. "What has happened?"
The man hesitated. "The King's auditors arrived this morning. They are examining every ledger, every account. They say there are inconsistencies in the trade records connected to the southern ports. The Marquis has been questioned since noon."
Lucian's expression hardened. "That is Montclair's doing. He has turned the accusation toward your family."
Evelina felt the blood drain from her face. "My father is no traitor."
"I know," Lucian said quietly. "But Montclair knows how to make the truth look guilty."
She moved quickly up the steps and into the grand hall. The sight that met her made her chest tighten. Servants stood in nervous clusters. Boxes of documents and ledgers were stacked in the corners. Men in formal coats moved through the rooms, examining papers, whispering to one another.
At the top of the stairs, her brother Nathan appeared. His face was drawn and tired. "Evee," he said, relief flashing across his features. "Thank God you are safe."
"What is happening?" she asked. "The guards outside said Father is under investigation."
Nathan ran a hand through his hair. "It began this morning. The royal accountants arrived with orders from the treasury. They claim our shipping records match those used by Grand Duke Montclair's faction for illegal trade. They are calling Father the financier of the Grand Duke's schemes."
"That is impossible," Evelina said. "Father never supported Grand Duke's dealings."
"They have documents," Nathan said bitterly. "Forged, I am certain. But they look real enough for the King's men to believe them. They have frozen every transaction. The estate's accounts, the shipping contracts, everything."
Lucian stepped forward. "Where is the Marquess now?"
"In his study," Nathan said. "With two auditors and a captain from the King's guard. They will not allow anyone else inside."
Evelina did not wait. She hurried down the corridor, the hem of her gown brushing against the polished floor. When she reached the door to the study, two guards stood before it, their expressions stern.
"My lady," one said, stepping forward. "The Marquess is engaged in official business. You cannot enter."
"He is my father," Evelina said, her voice trembling. "I will not wait outside while strangers accuse him of treason."
Before the guard could respond, the door opened from within. Her father stood there, his shoulders squared but his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
"It is all right," he said to the guards. "Let her in."
Evelina slipped inside. The room smelled of ink and candle smoke. Piles of papers covered the desk, and two auditors stood near the window, murmuring over ledgers.
Her father closed the door behind her. "You should not have come," he said softly.
"How could I not?" Evelina stepped closer. "Nathan told me everything. They think you were part of the Grand Duke's faction."
He sank into his chair. "Don't think. They are convinced. The treasury believes several of our shipments were used to fund Montclair's private network. They have traced payments that appear to have come from my accounts."
Evelina shook her head. "But they are forged. You can prove it."
"I will try," he said quietly. "But proving innocence in court is never as simple as proving guilt. The Grand Duke has fallen, and the King needs another name to balance the scales. Montclair's shadow is long. It falls where he chooses."
Lucian stepped into the doorway then, having followed her. "I will not allow this to stand. I will find evidence of Montclair's corruption. I can show the council that these accusations are false."
The Marquess looked up at him. "If you intervene now, it will only make it worse. They already suspect that you and our family conspired. You are both too visible."
Evelina's voice broke slightly. "Then what are we to do? Sit quietly while they destroy us?"
Her father's expression softened. "We endure. The truth will come to light. It always does, though it may take longer than we wish."
Lucian stepped forward, placing a hand on the desk. "He will not stop here. Montclair will continue until every ally you have is stripped of their influence. He means to make your name a warning to anyone who stood with me."
The Marquess nodded slowly. "I know. And I also know he will not stop until he believes you are alone."
Silence settled between them. Evelina could hear the faint scratching of the auditors' pens behind her, each sound a reminder that their lives were being dissected one line of ink at a time.
Her father looked at her, his voice low. "Evee, you must be strong. Whatever they say, do not speak of what you know. The less they can twist, the less they can use."
She nodded, though the words felt hollow.
When the auditors finally left for the evening, her father leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed. "Go, both of you," he said. "There is nothing more to be done tonight."
Evelina wanted to protest, but Lucian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He is right. You need rest."
She turned to him, her voice barely a whisper. "Rest feels like surrender."
He met her gaze. "It is only a pause. Tomorrow we will fight again."
Outside, the night had deepened. The soldiers in the courtyard had lit torches, their light flickering across the walls of the estate. Lucian accompanied her as far as the steps.
"I will speak with the King's steward," he said. "There must be someone still willing to see reason."
Evelina looked up at him, her voice trembling. "If they see you with me again, they will only twist it further."
"I do not care," he said. "They can twist the story, but they cannot change the truth."
She wanted to tell him to be careful, to stay away until the storm passed, but the words caught in her throat. "Thank you," she said instead. "For everything."
Lucian smiled faintly. "For you, there is nothing I would not do."
He pressed her hand lightly before stepping into the darkness. The sound of his horse's hooves faded down the long drive until all that remained was silence.
Evelina turned back toward the house. The torches flickered against the stone walls, casting shadows that looked almost like movement. Inside, servants whispered in corners, their faces drawn with worry. The Everleigh crest above the grand staircase seemed suddenly heavier, as if it too felt the weight of accusation.
She went to her room and stood by the window, looking out over the grounds. The wind carried the faint rustle of leaves and the distant cry of an owl. Somewhere beyond those hills, Montclair would be smiling, his plan unfolding exactly as he intended.
Evelina's reflection stared back at her in the glass, pale and still.
"They can ruin our name," she whispered, "but not our truth."
Below, the guards changed their post. The night deepened, pressing against the windows like a living thing. Evelina did not sleep. She stayed by the window until dawn began to touch the horizon, her heart aching with fear and resolve in equal measure.
When the first light of morning finally reached the estate, it glinted on the banners of the King's men still stationed in the courtyard. The Everleigh estate was no longer a home. It was a fortress under siege, and she understood now that survival would mean more than silence.
It would mean fighting for what little light remained in a world that had chosen darkness.