The next morning began with the scent of freshly baked bread and the sound of Evelyn muttering to herself about sore arms. She had survived training, a chase, and a lecture, which she considered three miracles in one week.
The Duke had left early for the royal council meeting, and the house felt strangely quiet without his steady footsteps echoing through the halls. Evelyn tried to relax, but the silence made her uneasy. When things were quiet, trouble usually waited just around the corner, yawning and stretching.
She sat by the window, sipping tea, when Captain Wren appeared in the doorway. His serious face made her sit up straighter at once.
"His Grace instructed me to brief you," he said.
"Brief me on what?"
"The council meeting," he replied. "He expects interference."
Evelyn frowned. "Interference? You mean arguments?"
"Arguments would be polite," Wren said. "Certain lords will not be pleased with last night's arrests. His Grace wants eyes and ears at the ready when he returns. That means you."
"Me?" she asked, surprised. "I am a bodyguard, not a politician."
"Sometimes both require the same skill," he said. "You will accompany me to the royal hall this afternoon."
Evelyn blinked. "Wait. You mean I am going to the palace?"
"Yes."
She grinned. "This is the best terrible idea I have heard all week."
By noon, Evelyn was standing inside the grand marble halls of the capital palace. Every surface gleamed, and the air carried the faint scent of ink, old velvet, and the kind of perfume worn by people who never ran.
She walked behind Captain Wren, trying not to stare too openly at the chandeliers or the massive portraits on the walls. It was her first time seeing the council chamber, and she had to stop herself from gaping like a tourist.
Inside, the room was arranged in a perfect circle. Each lord sat at a curved table, papers stacked high in front of them. The Duke sat at the center, posture straight, calm and unreadable as always.
Evelyn found a place at the side, standing quietly like a guard should. Her hands were folded, but her eyes were busy.
Lord Harven was not present, which made sense since he was now under investigation. However, a few others whispered to each other in low, irritated tones. Evelyn caught snippets of their conversation "baseless claims," "too much power," "the Duke acts above his station."
She frowned.
When the meeting began, a man named Lord Taren stood and addressed the Duke directly. "Your Grace, while we commend your efforts to ensure the safety of our borders, some of us believe that you have exceeded your authority."
The Duke's calm voice carried clearly through the hall. "If arresting smugglers who traffic weapons to our enemies is considered exceeding authority, then I will do it again."
A ripple of murmurs filled the chamber. Evelyn grinned quietly.
Lord Taren narrowed his eyes. "You claim Lord Harven's guilt without royal approval. That is a dangerous precedent."
"Danger lies in ignoring treason," the Duke said evenly.
Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek to stop from cheering. She was not supposed to look entertained, but the Duke was magnificent when he was being infuriatingly composed.
The argument stretched on. Papers shuffled, tempers flared, and at one point, a particularly dramatic lord nearly knocked over his own inkwell. Evelyn stayed alert, scanning the room. Then she noticed something odd as a servant in gray livery standing by the back door. He was not holding a tray, not moving, not bowing. Just watching the Duke.
Her instincts prickled.
She moved quietly to the side and positioned herself near the back. The servant shifted his weight, and she saw a small glint beneath his sleeve. A metal piece. Possibly the hilt of a knife.
Her pulse jumped.
She waited until he stepped forward slightly, and then she moved.
With a firm motion, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. The knife clattered to the floor. Gasps filled the chamber.
"Assassin!" someone shouted.
Guards rushed in. Evelyn tightened her grip, kicking the blade away. The man struggled once before Captain Wren seized him and forced him to the ground.
The Duke had already risen, his expression calm but sharp. He walked toward the scene as chaos buzzed around them.
Evelyn looked up at him, still holding the man's arm. "I think he wanted to ruin your meeting."
The Duke bent slightly to inspect the attacker. "He wears the uniform of the palace staff," he said. "But his boots are from the merchant quarter. A disguise."
"Connected to Harven's group?" Captain Wren asked.
"Likely," the Duke said quietly.
Evelyn frowned. "That means someone in the palace is helping them."
"Or paying them," the Duke said. His gaze flicked to her. "You did well."
Her heart fluttered, though she tried to look modest. "I was just doing my job, Your Grace."
"Doing it loudly, apparently," he said with a faint smile.
After the council adjourned, the Duke and Evelyn walked through the palace gardens, away from the noise. The path was lined with trimmed hedges and white lilies that glowed in the afternoon light.
Evelyn stretched her sore hand. "You should consider hiring less dramatic enemies. They are exhausting."
"Unfortunately, we do not get to choose them," he replied.
She glanced at him. "Do you think someone in the council planned that attack?"
"Possibly," he said. "And now they know we are paying attention."
Evelyn sighed. "At this rate, I will start sleeping with my sword under the pillow."
"I would advise against that," he said, amused. "You might roll over and stab yourself."
She smiled. "A noble end for a clumsy guard."
He looked down at her, eyes softening. "Not clumsy. Just fearless in inconvenient moments."
That single sentence made her cheeks warm. She tried to hide it by adjusting her sleeve.
They walked in silence for a while, their steps in rhythm. The palace bell rang in the distance.
When they reached the gate, the Duke stopped. "Captain Wren will handle the interrogation. You will rest tonight. That is not a suggestion."
Evelyn saluted half-heartedly. "Yes, Your Grace. I promise not to chase anyone for at least twelve hours."
He gave her a faintly suspicious look. "Make it twenty-four."
She grinned. "You have no faith in me."
"I have experience," he said.
She laughed, and for a moment, his composure cracked into a quiet smile that made her heart skip a beat.
That evening, as the carriage rolled back toward the mansion, Evelyn leaned against the seat and looked out the window. The sun was setting behind the city rooftops, painting everything in shades of pink and gold.
She thought about the council, the attack, the Duke's calm voice cutting through the noise, and the way his hand had briefly touched her shoulder afterward, steady and reassuring.
It was strange how safety could feel like warmth instead of armor.
The city lights began to glow as night arrived. Evelyn smiled to herself. Trouble always seemed to follow her, yet for some reason, the Duke never told her to leave.
Maybe, she thought, he was starting to see her as more than a guard.
And maybe, she realized, she was starting to see him as something more than a Duke.