“You humiliated her,” Gaviel Stonebridge said coldly, setting down his utensils with a loud clink. “And you humiliated us.Do you have any idea how quickly word has spread? The entire court is talking about it.”
Alaric had nothing to say. What could he say? He had done this. He had let this happen. And for what? A moment of weakness? A mistake he couldn’t take back?
He should have told Evelyne the truth himself. He should never have let Callista get close to him. He had been a coward, drinking himself intonumbness to push back the guilt that had clawed at him all afternoon before the ball. And then Evelyne had asked, 'Have I done something to upset you?'
He had barely kept himself together. Guilt had torn through him, and the urge to tell her everything had been overwhelming. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d smiled, acted as if nothing was wrong, and played the part of the devoted fiancé—even though he knew she could see right through him.
And then Callista had found him.
He had been vulnerable, drowning in his own self-loathing, and she had seized the opportunity to drive the knife deeper. He barely remembered the conversation, only how his voice had sounded solostwhen he let the truth about the arrangement slip. And he’d realized his mistake too late. Callista had given him that wicked little smile that meant she had already won, and before he could stop her, she had kissed him.
And then Evelyne had been standing there.
He had felt the moment her heart shattered, had seen it in the way she took a single, staggering step back, her lips parting in silent horror. He’d wanted to chase after her, to drop to his knees andbegfor forgiveness. But the fury twisting across her face had rooted him in place, like he was trapped between the crushing weight of his shame and the hushed whispers of the onlookers already spreading the scandal.
Coward.
As he sat at the breakfast table, head bowed, he let his father’s words wash over him.
“You’ll be leaving for Velenshire tonight,” Gaviel said sharply. “When you return, you will fix this mess with Lady Duskwood.”
Alaric swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He knew what his father meant. He was expected to mend the broken engagement andpretend last night had never happened. But how could he? How could he face Evelyne after what he had done?
He nodded, though it felt like a weight around his neck. His father left without another word while his mother lingered. But after a quiet sigh, she followed, leaving him alone with his misery.
Alaric clenched his fists against the table and exhaled shakily. He had to fix this. Hewouldfix this. But deep down, he knew that some wounds never trulyhealed.
Chapter 18
The morning air was crisp, threaded with the scent of wet earth and rain left behind by the night’s storm. Puddles shimmered in the early light, and the sky hung low, still heavy with its passing rage. Evelyne stood beside the carriage, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched Aurelia bid farewell to their parents.
Aurelia’s husband, Leopold, had finally returned from his business travels, and it was time for her to leave. With everything that had happened the night before, Evelyne was reluctant to see her sister go.
Aurelia turned to her, the warmth in her eyes dimmed by concern. Without a word, she pulled Evelyne into a firm embrace, holding her as if she could shield her from the burden of everything left unspoken. Evelyne sank into her arms, but it did little to calm the turmoil within.
Everyone knew what happened between her and Alaric at the ball. Still, she avoided their curious looks, unwilling to relive it, especially after what had unfolded in the library with Cillian. Her mother had come to her room before she fell asleep, standing quietly in the doorway, waiting. But Evelyne’s anger had still burned too hot, disloyalty settling heavily in her chest. She couldn’t bear to look at her.
“I can’t talk to you right now,” she’d said, her voice tight with emotion.
Her mother hadn’t argued, hadn’t pled. She’d turned and walked away, closing the door softly behind her.
But Aurelia understood. Evelyne saw it in the sadness in her eyes, in the brief hesitation before she finally stepped back. For a moment, it seemed like she didn’t want to leave.
Her voice broke through the silence, a whisper against Evelyne’s ear. “You’re stronger than you think, sister. Don’t let them make you feel powerless.”
Evelyne’s throat tightened. She wanted to hold on to her, to say that all was not well, that she felt as though she stood at the edge of a vast, unknowable abyss. But the words never came. She only managed a nod.
Aurelia pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Evelyne’s arms. “I know you, Ev. Whatever it is, don’t carry it alone.”
The lump in Evelyne’s throat grew, but she forced a small smile. “I’ll miss you.”
Aurelia searched her face for a long moment, before finally stepping into the carriage. As the wheels began to turn, sending the vehicle rolling down the long, muddy path away from the manor, Evelyne remained frozen. The crisp breeze seeped into her skin, but it wasn’t the cold morning air that unsettled her.
Something felt wrong.
She turned toward the house, her thoughts tangled, the unease in her chest blooming into a heavier dread, an urgency that clawed at her. It wasn’t only Alaric’s lie that haunted her now.
Where was Cillian?
