This, this was where things began to grow interesting.
Eveline slipped away from ballroom, her heart still racing from the lingering weight of Alaric's gaze.
An unfamiliar warmth stirred low in her chest. Annoying and unnecessary. "Why does he feel familiar?" She thought to herself, her hand touching her racing heart, trying to calm it down.
The palace corridors stretched endlessly, lined with towering arches and polished floors that reflected torchlight like molten gold. These halls were quieter than the ballroom, but far more dangerous. Secrets thrived here. Promises were broken without witnesses.
Her thoughts darkened despite herself. Her sister's death, the royal family's silence, justice buried beneath crowns and ceremony.
Madam Rubin's voice surfaced, crisp and merciless. "Power is never given, it is taken. And patience, patience sharpens the blade."
Eveline clenched her fists, then forced them to relax. Not here. Emotion was a weakness and this is the worst place to reveal them.
A servant hurried past, balancing a silver tray heavy with sparkling wine. Her elbow brushed his sleeve, barely a touch. He startled, murmured an apology, and moved on. She didn't think k too much about it.
"You shouldn't be in this corridor." The voice was calm. Eveline lifted her gaze, a man stood ahead, half-shadowed by torchlight, his posture relaxed but alert. His eyes, dark, watchful, tracked her movements subtly.
"I know," she said smoothly. "I got lost."
"That happens," he replied, stepping closer. "Even to people who know exactly what they're doing." He extended his hand. "Tristan." She paused for a bit, trying to recognize him before placing her hand in his. "Eveline." "We share an acquaintance," he continued. "Madam Rubin."
Eveline's lips curved faintly. "She's not my friend. She's a strategist." Tristan let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. "That sounds like her." His tone lowered. "She asked me to watch you." "I don't need supervision." "No," he agreed easily. "But you may need warning. Royals are far more unpredictable than they pretend." His gaze slid briefly down the corridor. "We should return. Some things are better unseen."
"And you?" Eveline asked softly. "Which part do you play?"
Tristan smiled, not warmly, not cruelly. "Whichever keeps me standing." He offered his arm. After a brief pause, Eveline accepted.
As they walked back toward the ballroom, voices drifted toward them, a group of young courtiers discussing, their voices low, discussing the evening dances
"I heard she's here," one whispered. "The brothel queen." "Walking among nobles like she belongs," another scoffed. "Bold." Eveline heard every word.
She didn't turn. Instead, she let out a soft laugh. The kind of laugh that made men reckless. That made them underestimate her. "Whispers travel quickly," a voice said mildly.
Lucien stepped from behind a marble pillar, The crowned prince wore his title like an afterthought, his expression amused, his eyes sharp enough to cut silk. The air shifted the moment he appeared.
Tristan stiffened.
"Your Highness," he said evenly.
Lucien's gaze lingered on Eveline. "So the rumors weren't exaggerated," he murmured. "You are fascinating." "And it's rare," Tristan said coolly, his arm firm at Eveline's waist, "to see the Crowned Prince take such interest in someone you claim holds no importance."
Lucien smiled. "I never said she wasn't important." His eyes flicked to Eveline. "Court has been dull. You're a welcome disturbance."
Before Eveline could reply, another presence joined them.
The second prince approached, quieter, darker, his expression unreadable. He did not smile. His eyes swept the scene once, lingering on Eveline just long enough to remember her. "Lucien," he said calmly. "The Queen is watching."
That changed everything.
At the edge of the ballroom, elevated and composed, the Queen sat upon her throne-like seat, her gaze fixed unmistakably on Eveline.
Lucien chuckled softly. "Of course she is." He inclined his head slightly toward Eveline. "Enjoy the evening. I have a feeling this won't be the last time we speak."
With that, the princes departed, one amused, one silent. Tristan exhaled slowly, forcing Eveline to look at him "Do you know you've done?"
Eveline smiled faintly. "Nothing." She let out a shrug feeling unbothered by anyone's presence.