The crackle of the fire seemed mocking now, a reminder of the warmth they had almost allowed themselves to sink into, before Rowan's words ripped it away.
Lucien straightened, his features carved back into steel, but Liora could still see the flicker of what had just been there. Vulnerability. Longing. Trust. It left her heart aching, because now he wore the mask again.
"When did she arrive?" Lucien asked, his voice clipped.
"Not an hour ago," Rowan replied. "The dowager summoned her in private. I managed only a glimpse, she was… smiling."
Liora's stomach knotted. Evelyne's smile was never harmless. It meant poison in the wine, a dagger wrapped in silk.
Lucien's gaze darkened. "Of course. Evelyne wouldn't come unless she believed she could twist the knife further." He looked at Liora then, his eyes unreadable. "This was inevitable. But now she's closer than I'd hoped."
Liora swallowed hard. "She'll try to turn the queen dowager against us. Against me."
