Two days had passed since their return from the cave. The castle moved through its morning rhythm, but for Eva, nothing felt ordinary. She navigated the halls with careful attention, noting lingering glances and half-heard murmurs — whispers of her bruises, and the man they all feared enough to not put it past him.
No one dared speak directly, yet the undercurrent of speculation was clear: Lucarion's reputation lent weight to the most dangerous assumptions. Eva catalogued everything, her mind working in quiet assessment. She would not hide. She would not appear vulnerable.
By the third day, she felt ready. The tension that had surrounded her settled like armor, and she knew it was time to break the silence with Lucarion. She made her way to his study, steadying her nerves with each step.
The door was ajar. Lucarion sat as always — composed, controlled, observing. He looked up as she entered, his amethyst eyes rimmed with gold catching the light.
"You've been quiet since our return," he said, voice smooth.
"I've been observing," Eva replied, closing the door behind her. "The court talks. I've heard enough whispers. It would serve us to be seen — to entertain, show ourselves."
He straightened, the shadow of authority in every line of his frame. "I see you've come to terms with your fate. That's good."
Her chest tightened. Fate. She accepted it now — not willingly, perhaps, but with purpose. "Then tell me," she said, holding his gaze, "when is the wedding? And the customs — what is expected of me?"
He rose, moving closer, shadowing her with his presence. "We will make a public announcement soon. An engagement celebration will follow — a ball, the court will be invited. And then the ceremony, in due time."
She nodded slowly. "Before that… we should begin appearances. Entertain guests. I do not know who to invite, or how these matters are handled — you must provide the guests."
Lucarion inclined his head. "Very well. Then it will be arranged. You will be seen, and the court will witness exactly whose side you are on."
Eva gave a small nod, inclining her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you," she said softly, then turned toward the door.
Lucarion's voice followed her, calm and even. "Lucy was found."
A pang of concern flared, but she masked it quickly. "Good. I should pay her a visit," she said, tone controlled.
He inclined his head once, acknowledging her words without another comment. His scrutiny lingered faintly as she left.
The castle moved quietly in the late afternoon as Eva prepared for the evening. The dinner would be intimate—seven guests. The steward waited in the library, ledger open.
"Who will be attending?" she asked, voice calm.
"Kael, your Lord Commander. Selene and Darian, your sister and brother. Lord Valen and Lady Isolde, their companions. And Lord and Lady Therin, friends of your lord," he replied.
Eva nodded. "Arrange the table with care — Kael nearest Lucarion, siblings opposite, companions beside them, Therins where they may observe yet remain engaged. Candles, soft music, dishes of quality, not ostentation."
The steward bowed, already taking notes. Eva thought briefly of her gown, hair pinned elegantly, subtle jewelry catching firelight without ostentation.
The dining chamber welcomed them with warmth — low firelight, gleaming silver, the murmur of strings from the alcove. Eva entered on Lucarion's arm, every step deliberate. Conversation paused as faces turned toward her: weighing, measuring.
Lucarion made introductions. "My sister, Selene. My brother, Darian. Lord Valen. Lady Isolde. Lord and Lady Therin. And my second in command Kael — though you know him already."
Eva inclined her head, expression measured. Isolde's gaze lingered longest, sharp as glass beneath a polite smile, while Selene offered a curtsy that felt too smooth to be genuine. Darian and Valen's charm was immediate, quick grins and gleaming eyes, while the Therins gave her nods weighted with quiet authority. Kael nodded offering a polite smile.
The first courses came. Wine was poured. Conversation began with safe threads — travel, weather, the recent festival in the lower wards. Eva listened, answering when spoken to, her tone poised, betraying nothing.
It was Darian who shifted the current, leaning forward with a grin. "I hear," he said, raising his glass toward her, "that our lady used to command an army. A general in her homeland." His eyes glittered with curiosity, perhaps a touch too bold.
"I've always admired a woman who can wield a sword," Lord Valen interjected, grin mischievous.
"Oh, from foreign general to future consort — what a leap," Isolde drawled, wine glass in hand. "Bravo."
Selene's hand rested lightly on her friend's arm, smile falsely contrite. "Don't be cruel, Isolde. She meant no offense, my lady."
Eva's lips curved slightly, expression cool. "A sword, yes," she said lightly. "But if you want the truth — my heart belongs to the battle-axe. Precision in a sword, finality in an axe."
"How violent," Isolde whispered. Selene nudged her with an elbow.
Lord Therin leaned forward, thoughtful. "And do you plan to keep at your training, Lady Eva? It would be a shame for such skill to fade unused."
Eva met his gaze, steady, ignoring the sidelong glances from Isolde and Selene. "No. I am not permitted to wield weapons here. But I do give counsel when His Grace requests it." She paused slightly, measured. "And we practice fencing."
Across the table, Darian's grin widened, delight in the image clear. Before he could press further, Lucarion's voice, even and measured, cut through the air.
"Those new supply routes, Kael," he said, shifting his gaze to his second in command though the remark carried to all. "Drawn with her advice. Her counsel stands where most would falter."
Kael inclined his head, faint acknowledgment, while Lord Valen chuckled low. "Impressive. I should like to spar with you myself one day, Lady Eva. To see if the stories are true."
Eva tilted her head, unshaken. "Careful what you wish for, my lord. I do not spar to flatter egos."
Laughter and sidelong glances layered across the table, alliances unspoken. Eva sat steady, hands relaxed on her glass, letting words ripple past.
As the final course was cleared, a gentle murmur of approval spread. Lucarion rose. "Shall we continue in the music room? The evening is young, and the company deserves more than conversation."
Eva followed, keeping pace. Guests murmured polite assent, and the small procession wound through candle-lit corridors, footsteps soft on polished stone. A harp's faint strains drifted ahead — a welcome prelude.
The room was warm, inviting. A grand piano caught the firelight at the far end. Darian leaned toward Selene. "Play us something, won't you, sister?" Selene glanced at Isolde, who nodded. The air shifted — expectation mingling with observation. Eva found herself slightly apart.
Lady Therin stepped closer as Selene's fingers coaxed a low melody, Isolde's voice rising to meet it.
"My lady," she said, tone smooth but weighted, "you've borne yourself with admirable composure tonight. Few could step into such a table without faltering."
Eva inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the words without presumption.
Lady Therin's eyes lingered, keen beneath soft warmth. "Lucarion does not give his trust lightly. He listens to you — I saw it even before he named your counsel. That alone will draw envy sharper than blades." She sipped her wine, gaze steady. "Tell me… will you keep that trust? His favor must be guarded, even at cost."
"You're a good friend, Lady Therin," Eva said, inclining her head with composure. "I am charged to serve His Grace faithfully, and I intend to honor the role entrusted to me. I have no other course here, no ties beyond those he allows. I shall fulfill my duty — and, as a woman of faith, obey the will that placed me by his side."
Lady Therin's gaze flicked toward Lucarion, catching the sharp intensity of his stare — he had not looked away all evening. She returned her attention to Eva, voice quiet, edged with gentle curiosity. "Duty and faith are admirable. But he watches you so closely tonight… would I be mistaken to think your pairing might include some measure of affection?"
Eva pressed her lips into a faint smile, not needing to meet his gaze to imagine its sharpness. "Do not mistake scrutiny for care, my lady. Hard, cold scrutiny," she said, lifting her glass to her lips.
Lady Therin's eyes softened, a small, knowing smile brushing her lips. "You may call me Erin," she murmured, touching Eva's shoulder lightly in quiet support.