Evelyn woke to the sound of knocking. Loud, impatient knocking that felt like it came directly from inside her skull.
She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. "No visitors, please. I am retired from life."
The knocking continued.
She sat up slowly, her hair sticking out in several directions, her back aching like she had wrestled a horse. Which, to be fair, she had almost done last night. She looked around the small room, squinting at the thin slice of morning light sneaking through the curtains.
"Guard Ash," came Mrs. Hargreaves's voice from the other side of the door. "His Grace requests your presence in the dining hall."
Evelyn froze. "Right now?"
"Five minutes ago."
She panicked. "Tell him I died."
"Get dressed."
There was no escape.
She stumbled out of bed, splashed cold water on her face, and tried to look alive. Her uniform hung crookedly on her shoulders. Her fake mustache refused to stay straight. She looked at her reflection and whispered, "You are a professional. You can do this. Just do not fall asleep in front of him."
The dining hall was bright and far too elegant for someone running on one hour of sleep. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, gleaming off polished silverware. The table was long enough to host a small army, yet only one person sat at it.
The Duke.
He was already eating breakfast calmly, as if he had not spent the night chasing smugglers through the woods. His coat was pressed, his hair perfectly in place, his entire existence an insult to people who needed sleep.
Evelyn approached, trying to look composed.
"Good morning, Your Grace," she said, forcing a cheerful voice.
He glanced at her. "Good morning, Guard Ash."
She sat a few seats away and almost yawned but caught herself at the last moment, which resulted in a strange squeaking sound instead.
The Duke raised an eyebrow. "Are you in pain?"
"Only emotionally," she said quietly.
He poured himself tea. "You performed well last night."
She blinked. "I did?"
"You did not die. That qualifies as well."
"I am honored," she said.
He handed her a cup of tea. "Drink this before you fall over."
Evelyn accepted it gratefully and took a sip. It was warm, lightly sweet, and strong enough to make her soul return to her body.
"Do you always wake up this early?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Every day?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because the sun rises."
She stared at him. "That is not a good reason."
He almost smiled. "It is the only one that matters."
Evelyn decided that arguing with him this early in the morning was dangerous to her health. She focused on eating the toast Mrs. Hargreaves had placed in front of her. It was delicious, but she was too tired to appreciate it properly.
Halfway through breakfast, Captain Wren, one of the Duke's officers, entered the hall carrying a folder of reports. He saluted sharply. "Your Grace, the captured smugglers confessed. They were hired by Lord Harven to move weapons across the border."
The Duke nodded. "And the other names?"
"They mentioned a merchant company based in the capital. We are still confirming it."
"Good," the Duke said. "Continue quietly. I do not want rumors spreading until I speak with the council."
Captain Wren bowed and left.
Evelyn listened, pretending to look very interested in her toast. When the Duke turned back to his tea, she leaned forward slightly. "So Lord Harven is guilty after all."
"Yes," he said. "He will be removed soon."
She frowned. "Removed sounds scary."
"It should," he said calmly.
She swallowed. "Remind me never to make you angry."
He looked at her with faint amusement. "That depends on your behavior."
She grinned nervously. "I will be very good then."
After breakfast, the Duke rose from his seat. "You will train with me again at noon."
Evelyn groaned quietly. "May I request an hour of recovery?"
"You may request it," he said. "You will not receive it."
"Cruelty is your art form," she muttered.
He looked over his shoulder. "Did you say something?"
"Just admiration, Your Grace."
He gave a short nod. "Meet me in the courtyard at noon."
When he left, Evelyn slumped in her chair and let her head fall onto the table. "I am going to die beautifully," she mumbled into her toast.
Mrs. Hargreaves passed by and patted her shoulder. "Do not die in my dining hall. I just cleaned the floor."
By noon, Evelyn stood in the training courtyard again. The sun was bright, the air smelled of cut grass, and she already regretted every decision that had led her to this point. The Duke stood at the center, sword in hand, his expression unreadable.
"You are late," he said.
"I was early in spirit," she replied.
He handed her a practice sword. "Show me what you learned."
She groaned softly and lifted the weapon. They began slow drills, circling each other across the stone floor. Her arms still ached from the night before, and her movements were clumsy.
The Duke corrected her position patiently, moving her feet into place with the tip of his sword. "Too far forward. You leave your center open."
"Easy for you to say. Your center is made of stone."
"Focus," he said.
She tried. Really, she did. But every time he stepped close, her mind became an empty page. The rhythm of their steps, the sound of metal, and the sight of him moving so effortlessly made it impossible to think about anything else.
He noticed her distraction. "You are unfocused again."
"I am focusing on not fainting," she said honestly.
"Then perhaps you should rest."
She straightened. "No. I can handle it."
He studied her for a moment and then nodded. "Very well. Again."
They sparred until her arms felt like melting wax. When he finally called for a break, she collapsed onto a bench and gulped water like a desert traveler.
He sat beside her, calm as ever. Not a hair out of place. Not even a single drop of sweat.
"How do you not even breathe hard?" she asked.
"Practice," he said.
"That is unfair."
"Life often is."
She rolled her eyes. "You are not helping."
He glanced at her, his expression softer now. "You did well."
Her head turned so fast she nearly spilled her water. "What?"
"You lasted longer than yesterday."
"That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me," she said dramatically.
He gave her a small, reluctant smile. "You are absurd."
"Thank you," she said brightly. "It is my greatest strength."
A bell rang from the tower, signaling the arrival of visitors. The Duke stood and adjusted his gloves. "I must attend to the council meeting this afternoon."
Evelyn stood too, still catching her breath. "Do you need me to come with you?"
"Not today. Rest. You earned it."
Her mouth dropped open. "Truly?"
He nodded once. "Do not waste the opportunity."
She grinned. "I will sleep like a champion."
He walked away, his long coat catching the breeze. She watched him go, still smiling. The warmth in her chest felt strange and steady, like something new had begun to grow there.
When he disappeared into the corridor, she leaned back on the bench and whispered, "You are in serious trouble, Evelyn."
The afternoon sun warmed her face, and despite her exhaustion, she laughed softly to herself. She had survived another day, another sparring match, another round of the Duke's impossible calm.
And if she was honest, she was starting to look forward to every impossible moment.