A few days had passed since her quarrel with Serena.
The velvet box had not surfaced again, and Evangeline wondered if her sister had truly returned it to Adrian. But deep down, she doubted it. Serena was the type to keep treasures close—hidden, locked away, yet never relinquished. Eva could almost picture it, tucked somewhere between dresses and shawls, waiting like a secret Eva wasn't meant to uncover. She avoided opening her sister's wardrobe, not because she lacked curiosity, but because she feared the crushing weight of disappointment more than ignorance.
Silence had become her companion in the household. At first, the absence of voices, of warmth, gnawed at her like hunger. Now, she had grown used to it, folding herself neatly into the quiet as if it were a second skin. She spent her hours in labor, weaving the red lace ribbon that Coachman Jack had ordered. Her fingers moved carefully, tugging and looping thread, the steady rhythm soothing in a way words no longer could.
When the clock struck twelve, Eva startled. The small hand rested firmly against the number, and she realized it was time—time to meet at the place Jack had told her. She smoothed the ribbon one last time, ensuring there were no loose strands to mar its perfection. Then she gathered her basket, tied her bonnet snugly over her head, and slipped quietly out the door, her departure as unnoticed as her presence had been.
On her way, she paused at Madam Trevor's fence. The old woman was already there, waiting as though she had anticipated Eva's passing. Their eyes met. Madam Trevor's smile was gentle but touched with sadness.
"I'm sorry about Milo," the grandmother said, her voice heavy with regret. "I don't know what has gotten into him."
Eva's lips twitched faintly. The memory was fresh—three days ago, Madam Trevor had urged Milo to speak with her, only for the boy to turn his back and shout, "I don't want to talk with her!" The words had pierced her deeper than any whispered rumor in the village.
Now, standing in front of the fence, she managed a fragile smile, masking the wound still aching beneath. "I understand him. Perhaps... perhaps it was something I did. A mistake I made without realizing, that offended him."
"How could you ever offend him?" Madam Trevor's voice sharpened, indignation flaring on Eva's behalf. "It must have been Milo who wronged you. One of these days I'll knock that boy on the head—maybe then he'll come to his senses!"
Eva's smile softened, though it trembled at the corners. She reached through the fence and clasped the old woman's hands. "I'm alright. Truly. At least there is still you."
She stopped herself before finishing the thought—that her sister, her family, her village, none of them stood beside her anymore. But Madam Trevor, wise with years and brimming with quiet empathy, already understood. The knowledge weighed on the old woman's heart until it ached for the girl.
"I'm sorry, Eva," Madam Trevor murmured, her eyes glistening. "I am so sorry."
Eva shook her head firmly, her smile widening as if to banish the heaviness. "Don't be. I'll be alright—soon, I will. Look, I even have a rather large order today! A red ribbon! See here—" She held out her work proudly, the intricate lace glowing like captured fire in the daylight.
Madam Trevor admired it, praising the ribbon warmly, though her gaze was heavy with sorrow for the girl who hid so much pain beneath her cheerful front.
When Eva finally left, she drew a deep breath of fresh air, filling her lungs as though she could wash away the weight of the encounter. The world outside felt lighter, freer, and she carried that borrowed strength with her as she walked to the stone where she had waited before.
There she sat, her heart quickening at the sound of wheels. As expected, the black carriage appeared, punctual as ever, the horses' hooves striking rhythm against the earth.
But today, something was different. The curtains of the carriage were drawn back, revealing the interior—empty, dark, and waiting.
Eva's green eyes widened, curiosity tugging at her as she tried to peek without being obvious. Before she could gather the courage to look closer, the familiar figure of Coachman Jack descended from the driver's seat. He greeted her with a courteous smile, and immediately, she darted her gaze away, her cheeks warming beneath the bonnet.
"I assume you have finished the order?" Jack asked. His tone was mild, his smile warm and practiced—the sort of harmless smile that disarmed suspicion without effort.
Eva clutched her basket tighter against her lap, her knuckles paling around the handle. "Yes, I did, it would be around four si—"
"Would you mind getting inside the carriage, Miss Evangeline?"
Her words died in her throat. Her lips parted, hanging half-open, as though the rest of her sentence had been stolen away by his sudden request. Slowly, she turned her head to the carriage. Her lashes lowered and lifted again in quick blinks, her confusion stark in her green eyes.
"The carriage? But... why?" Her voice trembled softly. She hadn't meant for it to sound so wary, but it slipped out all the same. The tone carried a quiet sharpness, like the edge of a blade veiled in silk.
A shiver ran down Jack's back. How peculiar. His master had warned him: She will question it. She is not like others; suspicion clings to her like second skin. And indeed, the girl's first instinct was not eagerness, but hesitation. His master had been right again. He was always right.
"I wish to pay you right away," Jack explained, careful to keep his voice even. "But my master holds high expectations for what he purchases. He only appreciates pieces he finds worthy of his money. What I mean, Miss, is that he would like to inspect your work himself before payment."
Eva's throat bobbed in a nervous swallow. The thought of stepping into that carriage twisted unease through her stomach. She was only a village girl; stories often began with carriages and ended in ruin. Dark things could happen behind closed doors on wheels.
But another thought gnawed at her. The ribbon. The payment. Her family. Her mother's sharp voice from days before echoed in her head—words about money, about how the payment would serve the house better than Eva's "silly" doubts. She imagined walking back through the door with empty hands, her mother's scorn like lashings across her already fragile heart. The image made her chest tighten.
Her gaze dropped to the ribbon folded carefully in her basket. She had labored over it for hours, every strand neat, every lace knot firm. The red gleamed like fresh blood against the fabric lining. It deserves to be seen, she told herself. And I deserve to be paid for it.
After another pause, she nodded—hesitant, ginger, but a nod nonetheless.
Jack's smile brightened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He moved swiftly to open the carriage door, his gesture courteous, though Eva flinched at the suddenness of it.
"Shouldn't I sit beside you? On the riding seat?" she asked, her voice soft, almost pleading for that simpler, safer option.
Jack chuckled lightly, nudging his chin toward the dark interior. "Of course not, Miss. You're a guest of the castle now."
Guest of the castle. The words settled in her chest like a weight. She had never been a guest anywhere—not in her village, not even in her own home. Always overlooked, always the one people whispered about. And now... now she was to step inside a carriage lined for nobility.
Her eyes lowered to her shoes, caked with dust and fraying at the seams. They looked vulgar against the rich carpet she glimpsed within, an intruder's mark on something too fine for her to touch. For a moment she hovered there, caught between fear and longing.
Finally, with a trembling breath, she lifted her skirt just enough to keep from tripping and climbed inside. The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her away.
The air shifted at once. A fragrance of lilies enveloped her, so strong and sweet it felt as though an entire field of blossoms had been pressed into this narrow space. She closed her eyes for a brief second, inhaling deeply. For the first time in days, she let herself imagine a place where things could be different, where beauty did not reject her presence.
And yet, beneath the floral sweetness, her nerves thrummed on.
After settling onto the seat, Eva ran her hand over the upholstery, her fingertips brushing velvet as soft as a petal. She nearly drew her hand back for fear of soiling it— fabric like this was not meant for the touch of someone like her. Velvet was rare enough in the village to be whispered about; here it lay stretched across every cushion as though it were nothing at all.
Everywhere she looked, luxury called out to her. Golden tassels framed the windows, heavy with embroidery. The carpet beneath her feet was thick enough to swallow sound. The air itself seemed scented, faintly perfumed with lilies and woodsmoke.
Despite this, Eva did not feel small, not exactly. Rather, she felt caught between worlds. She knew she did not belong here, but for once, instead of shrinking, she let herself admire. She let her eyes roam freely, drinking in every detail. Opportunities like this would never return.
The trees outside blurred into a green haze as the carriage picked up speed. Leaves became ribbons of color, rushing past until, quite suddenly, the forest broke away. A bright expanse of meadow spread wide before her eyes, sunlight pouring over its perfect slopes.
And there, in the very heart of that green sea, rose the castle.
Eva's lips parted. Her chest went still.
The castle, it gleamed like something pulled from a storybook. The walls shimmering with the warm, rare hue of copper. Towers climbed against the sky, their roof tipped into sharp crowns. She could not measure the scale of the castle, not enough to admire it with such a short amount of time. But the building spread so wide it seemed to stretch into the horizon, swallowing acres as if land itself bent to its majesty.
Her pulse quickened, her lips unknowingly spread into a smile like a child as she had longed wish to see such sight.
The carriage only slowed when it reached the outer gate. A knight stepped forward, the sun flashing across the plates of his heavy armor. He was not merely a man, Eva realized with a chill, but a seraph as his white wings peeked from his back.
His scarred lips twisted faintly as his gaze pierced through the window, finding her instantly and frowned just as quickly.
Just as she felt like a thief about to be apprehended, a voice cut the tension.
"Carls," Jack called lightly from the driver's seat, "don't scare the girl."
The knight huffed but said nothing. With a gesture, he lifted his arm, and shadows stirred behind him. The other figures behind him moved in unison and she heard the wooden gates groaned open, heavy beams splitting to grant them passage.
As the carriage rumbled forward, Eva's eyes widened further. The grandeur only deepened.
Before the castle's grand entrance stood a colossal statue of a seraph carved in marble, wings arched wide as if to embrace the heavens themselves. Its hand reached skyward, fingers yearning to touch eternity. Beneath it, a fountain sang with crystalline water, sunlight scattering into a thousand diamonds.
Manicured bushes flanked the stone path ahead, clipped into perfect symmetry, leading the eye up to the massive staircase that climbed toward the main doors. Every surface gleamed as though freshly polished: the stone glistened, the water sparkled, even the windows caught and reflected her own astonished face back at her.
Eva pressed a hand to her chest, her breath shaky, unable to look away. Every second, the castle seemed to grow more alive, more magnificent— as though it wanted to swallow her whole.
Jack opened the door for her, though Eva barely noticed at first. Her gaze was still caught on the towering castle wall, so high she couldn't even glimpse the tip of the gate.
"You may walk out, Miss."
Startled, she obeyed, cheeks warm with the thought of being caught staring too intently.
As her feet touched the ground, Jack's focus shifted to a maid nearby. The woman's brown eyes lingered on Eva with cool disinterest. Out of courtesy, Eva offered a small smile—but the maid merely rolled her eyes aside, a glance sharp enough to size her up in an instant.
Eva wasn't offended, only unsettled by how boldly she had been weighed and dismissed.
"As the Lord had asked, Mira I need you to..." Jack murmured to the maid. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to something Eva couldn't catch. She turned her eyes toward the castle, pretending not to notice, waiting for him to finish.
"Miss Eva, please follow Mira here," Jack said at last, introducing the maid.
"Oh, but it's getting late—I should just drop this here—" Her words broke when Jack laughed lightly.
"Don't worry. I've been tasked to bring you back home. This is important to my master, so I hope you'll see his requests through."
Something about the way he spoke felt... wrong. Or perhaps she only imagined it.
"Follow me," Mira said, stepping forward.
Eva cast one last glance at Jack. He was still smiling, still watching, as she trailed after the maid. Unease clung to her, though she obeyed like a caged bird—never noticing how a pair of violet eyes narrowed to crescents at the sight of her stepping willingly inside.