Chapter 6 – Scars and Secrets
The moment the library doors closed behind us, Evelyn's composure shattered.
Not with tears; she was past tears.
She walked so quickly her heels struck the marble like thrown daggers, black lace skirts snapping with every step. I followed at the regulation three paces until we reached the unused music room on the third floor (no windows facing the courtyard, no ears behind the walls).
She slammed the door herself, turned the key, and only then let her shoulders sag.
For ten heartbeats she simply breathed, palms braced against the piano lid, head bowed so the black curls hid her face.
I waited.
When she finally spoke, her voice was raw.
"You should not have done that."
I closed the distance until I stood just behind her. "Which part? Catching the ink or mentioning your father?"
"Both." She spun around; crimson eyes glittering with unshed rage and something dangerously close to fear. "Do you know what you just forced into the open? Cedric will never forgive the accusation. He will move the trial forward. He will—"
"He was already going to destroy you," I cut in, calm and flat. "I simply made the battlefield smaller and the rules clearer."
Evelyn stared at me as though seeing me for the first time since the night I woke in this body.
"You are terrifying," she whispered.
I inclined my head. "Only to people who deserve it."
She laughed once (short, sharp, humourless) and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.
"I am tired, Rin. I am so tired of pretending I do not remember the sound his body made when it hit the stones."
The confession hung between us like smoke.
I took one more step. Close enough now that the ink on my apron brushed the black lace of her sleeve.
"Tell me all of it," I said quietly. "Not the version the court believes. The version you have carried alone for six years."
She looked up, startled. As though no one had ever asked for her truth before.
Then, slowly, she began to speak.
"It was the night of the winter solstice ball. Father had argued with the queen all evening; he carried letters proving she had poisoned Duke Valmont to secure Cedric's succession. He intended to present them to the council at dawn. Cedric begged him to wait. Father refused."
Her fingers found the edge of the piano again, knuckles white.
"They took me to the north tower to watch the fireworks. Cedric held my hand the entire time. When Father stepped out onto the balcony to speak to his steward, the wind… changed. It was not natural. I felt the magic twist, like a hand shoving from behind. Father stumbled. I screamed. Cedric's grip turned to iron. He whispered, 'It is for the kingdom, Evelyn. One life for peace.' Then he let me watch my father fall."
She swallowed hard.
"Afterward he told everyone I had been hysterical, that I imagined things. The storm covered the screams. The next morning they announced our engagement would proceed as planned. A grieving daughter needed guidance, he said. And I… I smiled. Because if I did not smile, they would have killed me too."
Silence rang louder than any shout.
I reached out (slowly, giving her time to refuse) and laid my hand over hers on the piano lid.
"I am sorry I was not there six years ago," I said. "I am here now."
Evelyn turned her hand beneath mine, lacing our fingers together as naturally as breathing.
"I used to dream," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "that someone would come. Not a prince. Not a hero from the stories. Just… someone who would stand between me and the entire world and say, 'Not her. Never her.' I thought it was a child's fantasy."
Her eyes searched mine, fierce and vulnerable all at once.
"Tell me I am not dreaming now."
I lifted her hand and pressed my lips to the inside of her wrist, right where her pulse beat frantic beneath thin skin.
"You are not dreaming, Evelyn."
Her given name, spoken for the first time.
She inhaled sharply, eyes widening.
I did not let go.
"From this moment forward," I continued, voice steady, "anyone who wants you will have to step over my corpse. And I do not plan on dying again anytime soon."
A tear slipped free at last, tracing a shining path down her cheek.
She did not wipe it away.
Instead she leaned forward until our foreheads touched, her breath mingling with mine.
"Then let them come," she whispered. "I am done kneeling."
I closed my eyes and felt the vow settle into my bones like steel.
"Good," I said against her skin. "Because I have spent my entire existence learning how to make people bleed for the ones I protect. And I have only just started with you."
She laughed (wet, shaky, real) and the sound cracked something open inside my chest that I knew would never close again.
We stayed like that (foreheads touching, fingers entwined, ink drying on my dress and murder drying on our hearts) until the afternoon bell rang somewhere far below.
When we finally stepped apart, the space between us felt different.
Charged.
Inevitable.
Evelyn smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her sleeve, then met my eyes with the first genuine smile I had ever seen from her.
"Come," she said. "We have a prince to ruin and a kingdom to remind who taught it fear."
I bowed (low, graceful, lethal).
"As my lady commands."
The war had moved from whispers to open declaration.
And for the first time in six years, Evelyn de Clermont was not fighting it alone.