Chapter 2: A Proposal of Necessity
Lady Evelina felt the oppressive weight of piety settle upon her the moment her carriage halted near the High Priest's private residence within the sprawling Holy Cathedral. The white marble façade was immaculate, reflecting the unforgiving afternoon sun—a harsh visual contrast to the deep emerald silk gown she wore.
An elderly attendant, whose face held the expression of perpetual, weary suspicion, led her through corridors defined by severe stone arches and cold silence. "His Eminence awaits," the man droned. "Mind your conduct, Lady Blackwood."
Evelina merely inclined her head, her sapphire eyes sharp. They think I am here to beg for clemency. They are wrong. I am here to seize my lifeline.
She was ushered into the Sanctuary. The chamber was expansive yet austere. Stone walls, tall arched windows filtering the light into dusty silver shafts, and a singular, massive obsidian altar defined the space. The air was unnaturally cold, carrying a faint, metallic scent.
And there he was.
High Priest Cassian Lyra.
He stood by one of the tall windows, his profile etched against the muted light. Even Evelina, armed with the foreknowledge of his secret, was momentarily staggered by his appearance. His hair was a startling shade of pale silver, catching the light like spun moonlight, a perfect complement to the cool austerity of the chamber. His robes—heavy, white, and intricately embroidered with gold—only emphasized his ethereal beauty.
He turned, and his gaze swept over her. His eyes were the color of pale, frozen gold—unnervingly bright and utterly devoid of human warmth. He assessed her, not as a woman, but as a tedious, minor complication.
"Lady Blackwood," his voice was a low, resonant baritone, a beautiful sound that held no inflection. "I was informed you desired an audience. State your petition quickly. My time is dedicated to the faith."
Evelina did not curtsy. She stood tall, meeting his gaze with a cool confidence she did not entirely feel. "I have no petition, Your Eminence. I have a proposal."
Cassian raised a perfect, silvery eyebrow, a tiny movement that conveyed supreme boredom. "I have no interest in political machinations, Lady. If this concerns the succession or your father's debts, I suggest you—"
"It concerns your survival," Evelina interrupted him sharply.
The effect was instantaneous and profound. Cassian froze. The icy neutrality in his gold eyes fractured for a split second, replaced by a flicker of raw, dangerous intensity. The air around them suddenly felt heavier, the unnatural cold deepening.
I hit the mark, Evelina noted internally. The pressure is working.
"You are stepping into territory you do not comprehend," Cassian warned, his voice now dangerously low.
"On the contrary, I comprehend it perfectly," Evelina stated, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. "You are to be married. The Crown demands a union to limit the Church's influence. I offer myself as the bride. The daughter of Duke Blackwood—a politically astute shield for you both."
Cassian turned fully to face her, his expression resetting to a flawless, untouchable shield. "You mistake a political necessity for a personal solution, Lady. I will not have my life complicated by a spoiled, reputationally flawed noblewoman."
"My flaws are irrelevant to your purpose, Your Eminence. My marriage to you saves your Church valuable time and resources. I gain protection from the Emperor's eventual wrath. It is a mutually beneficial contract of convenience."
Cassian was silent for a long moment, studying her. The silence stretched, becoming agonizingly tense.
Then, the chaotic ripple of forbidden power.
A pulse of sheer, formless darkness visibly radiated from his chest, vibrating the air. It was the Shadow Essence, chaotic and violent, just as she had read. Cassian inhaled sharply, his hand instinctively clamping against his side as a faint tremor ran through his powerful frame. His pale gold eyes narrowed in acute, concealed agony. The air instantly smelled acrid and metallic, like burnt ozone.
Evelina did not flinch. She did not gasp. The terror was swallowed by a triumphant, cold certainty. She moved instantly, closing the final steps between them.
She reached out and placed her palm firmly, deliberately, against the back of his hand, which was still pressed to his chest.
The moment her skin connected with his, the chaotic ripple of darkness vanished.
It did not dissipate; it simply ceased. The chilling tension in the air evaporated completely. Cassian's sharp gasp stuttered, and his whole body went utterly still, frozen in shock.
His icy gold eyes snapped down to her hand—then back to her face. They were no longer neutral; they were wide with a stark, terrifying realization.
Evelina withdrew her hand slowly, holding his gaze, her voice low and steady, a conspiratorial whisper against the profound silence.
"That, Your Eminence," she said, nodding slightly toward the spot where his hidden power had just flared and subsided, "is why I am the only bride you can afford to marry."