The following night was still and heavy, the palace wrapped in silence.
Evelyn sat at the edge of her bed, unable to sleep. Her thoughts circled the same question — Why would they lie about Father?
A soft knock broke her reverie.
It wasn't Edward. This knock was quicker, nervous.
"Miss Hartley," whispered a voice. "A message, from the lower archives."
The servant handed her a small wooden box wrapped in wax-sealed parchment, then vanished before she could speak.
Evelyn held her breath as she broke the seal. Inside lay a bundle of papers, yellowed with age and tied with a leather string. At the top was her father's handwriting.
Her eyes blurred.
> To my daughter, Evelyn —
If this reaches you, it means I have failed to return.
The truth I found cannot be buried by rank or crown.
There are those within the palace who would trade our nation's soul for power.
Trust no emblem, no title — only character.
The traitor wears honor as his mask.
Remember, courage is not the absence of fear — it is the will to act despite it.
I have seen the prince once — a boy of gentle heart.
Should fate bind you to his path, remind him that justice is never disloyalty.
— Father
Her hands trembled as she lowered the letter. Tears welled, but they didn't fall.
When Edward arrived minutes later, breathless and anxious, she simply handed him the papers.
He read in silence.
When he reached the final line, his voice caught. "He… mentioned me?"
Evelyn nodded. "He saved you — and he believed in you."
Edward closed his eyes, emotion flickering across his face. "Then we can't stop now."
He moved to the window, the moonlight silvering his hair. "This proves my mother isn't the enemy. Someone else forged the orders — someone in her council."
Evelyn joined him, the letter still clutched in her hand. "Then the mask my father spoke of… belongs to one of them."
Edward turned to her, eyes sharp. "Harrington."
"Or someone even higher," she whispered.
---
They spent the next hours poring over the letters. One page contained coordinates and a phrase written in code — "The bell tolls beneath stone."
Edward traced the line with his finger. "The cathedral vaults," he murmured. "There's an old war archive beneath the chapel — sealed after the bombings."
Evelyn met his gaze. "Then that's where we go next."
For a moment, neither moved. Their exhaustion made them honest — raw.
He reached for the letter still trembling in her hands, folding her fingers around it.
"Your father would be proud," he said softly.
Evelyn looked up at him. "And yours?"
He smiled faintly. "He might finally call me a man."
They stood there in silence, two hearts bound by loss and promise, while outside the rain began again — gentle, steady, and forgiving.