LUCIAN
The world had grown quieter in the days since the rumor began, but it was not a peaceful quiet. It was the kind that came before a storm, the kind that pressed down on the heart and left no room to breathe.
Lucian sat in the private room of the Ravenscroft estate, the papers on his desk spread before him in careful order. Every letter, every report from his informants, told the same story. The rumor of his supposed engagement to Lady Selina Marlowe had spread beyond the court, whispered in every hall and household from the palace to the port.
He read the latest message once more, though the words had already burned themselves into his mind.
The Grand Duke's men were the first to speak of it. They claim the arrangement is supported by the Crown Princess and approved in spirit by the King. The court believes reconciliation between the royal family and your name will ensure peace. The name Everleigh, they say, no longer holds its former grace.
Lucian's fingers tightened on the page. He knew whose hand guided those whispers.
Alistair Montclair had always fought his wars in silence. He did not need swords or soldiers. His weapon was suggestion. His victory was belief.
Lucian leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He could see Alistair even now, standing in the council chamber with that calm, perfect smile, his voice measured and reasonable as he spoke of alliances. He would not have needed to mention Evelina by name. The court would do the rest.
A knock sounded at the door. His shadow stepped inside, bowing quickly.
"My lord. A letter arrived from the Everleigh estate. It bears no seal."
Lucian held out his hand. The folded parchment was plain, the ink faintly smudged. He unfolded it slowly.
If you must marry her, if it is the only way to protect your family, I will understand. But I cannot be the story they are telling. You once promised to set things right. I only ask that you do so before they destroy everything we were.
— E.
He read it twice, then a third time, his chest tightening with each word. The paper trembled slightly in his grip.
"She believes it," he said quietly.
The shadow hesitated. "The rumor is everywhere, my lord. It would be difficult not to."
Lucian looked up. "Prepare my horse. I will leave at dusk."
"Where to?"
"The South Quarter. The tavern by the bridge. She will come."
The man bowed and left without question.
Lucian folded Evelina's letter and slipped it into his coat. His pulse was steady, though anger simmered beneath the calm. He could not fight Alistair's lies in public yet. The court would twist every defense into another accusation. But he could face her. He could give her the truth before it was stolen from them both.
As night fell, he left the estate by the old gate, the one that opened into the forest road. The rain had returned, soft and constant, turning the streets into mirrors of light.
The tavern stood at the edge of the river, half hidden by ivy and mist. It was an old place, forgotten by nobles and loved by no one but the weary. That was why he chose it.
He dismounted, leaving his horse in the alley, and stepped through the back door. The smell of smoke and damp wood filled the air. In the small upper room, a single candle burned on the table.
She was already there.
Evelina turned as he entered, her hood still drawn, her face pale in the flickering light. The sight of her broke something inside him.
"Lucian," she said softly.
He closed the door behind him and crossed the room in two steps. "I came as soon as I heard. You should not have come here alone."
"I had to," she said. "I needed to hear it from you."
He reached for her hands, cold from the rain. "Then hear it now. The rumors are false. Every word of them. My sister may believe she acts in my interest, but the marriage to Selina is nothing but a lie crafted by Montclair."
Her eyes widened. "You are certain?"
"I have proof," he said. "He set the story himself, using my sister's good intentions as his veil. He spreads it through the council, through his allies, through the very mouths that claim loyalty to the crown. He means to make me choose between silence and scandal. And you are the price of both."
Her lips trembled. "They say I am trying to stop it. That I have already ruined myself for you."
Lucian's expression hardened. "You have done nothing wrong. They twist what they cannot own. They use your name because it frightens them that I would love someone who is beyond their reach."
The word love fell between them like something fragile and alive. Evelina blinked, as if she were not sure she had heard it correctly.
"Love," she whispered.
"Yes." His voice softened. "I tried not to say it until I could protect you from what it would mean. But I cannot stay silent any longer. I love you, Evelina. You are the only truth left in a world that has forgotten how to tell it."
Her tears came suddenly, quiet but unstoppable. "They will destroy you for this."
"They will try," he said. "But I would rather be ruined beside you than live safely without you."
She shook her head. "You cannot say that."
"I can. And I do."
He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the tears that fell faster now. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes.
"Lucian," she said, her voice breaking. "I cannot bear this. Every word they speak, every letter they write, it feels like the walls are closing around me. I do not know how to breathe beneath it anymore."
He pulled her close, his hand at the back of her head. "Then breathe here," he whispered. "Let the world wait for one night."
She clung to him, her hands gripping the front of his coat. The warmth of his body steadied her, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her against the storm.
He held her until her sobs faded to quiet breaths. Then he lifted her chin gently, meeting her eyes.
"You once told me you did not want me to fight for you," he said softly. "But I cannot help it. You are the only thing worth fighting for."
Her tears shimmered in the candlelight. "And what will become of us?"
He smiled, though there was sadness in it. "Tomorrow will come, as it always does. But tonight, there is only this. Only us."
She hesitated, searching his face as if to be sure he meant it. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, her lips finding his.
The kiss was not desperate. It was quiet, full of everything they had both held back for too long. The candle flickered, the sound of rain soft against the windows, the scent of rain and smoke and wax weaving together around them.
When they broke apart, neither spoke. Words were too small for what lived between them.
Lucian rested his forehead against hers. "I will make this right," he whispered. "I swear it. Montclair will not win. And no one will speak your name with shame again."
Evelina closed her eyes. "I believe you."
Outside, the storm grew stronger, the wind rattling the shutters. But inside that small room, the world felt still.
Lucian drew her close again, his hand finding hers. The candle burned low, their shadows mingling on the wall.
He did not know what tomorrow would bring. Perhaps more lies, perhaps exile, perhaps war. But tonight, there was no court, no council, no factions waiting to devour them. There was only the quiet, the warmth between them, and the fragile hope that love might still survive beneath the weight of power.
The candle's flame wavered once, then steadied, casting a soft glow across their faces.
And for a few stolen hours, before the dawn could claim them, they found peace in each other's arms.