Lucien didn't follow right away.
He stood under the blossoms, staring at the path Evelyne had vanished down. The same path he once walked beside her, before betrayal and blood rewrote their fate.
Meanwhile, Evelyne found herself at her old quarters. It hadn't changed.
Same cold walls. Same bitter silence.
She stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her. And for a moment, she just stood there—allowing herself to feel the ache she'd locked away.
A knock broke her thoughts.
"Evelyne," Lucien's voice came through the door. "Please… just one minute."
She didn't answer.
But she didn't tell him to leave either.
The door opened slowly. Lucien entered, eyes never leaving her. "You're angry. You have every right to be."
"No," she said. "Anger is for those who still care. I've simply… accepted what you are."
"That's not fair."
She looked at him, expression unreadable. "Neither was my execution."
Silence stretched between them.
"I never stopped thinking about you," he admitted. "I grieved. Every day. I tried—"
"You tried when it was safe," she cut in. "When the fires were gone and all that was left was ashes."
Lucien stepped forward, his voice low. "I came to the palace because I heard of your return. Not as a noble. Not as the Duke's heir. As the man who couldn't save you before."
She met his eyes. And for a flicker of a second—just a flicker—her resolve wavered.
But then she turned away. "If you truly want to do something for me… then don't stand in my way again."
---
Later that night, Evelyne stood on her balcony. The stars were dim, hidden behind clouds. Rain was coming.
And with it… a new chapter of her life.
In the distance, she saw a shadow atop the western tower.
Watching.
Waiting.
The masked one?
Her grip tightened on the railing.
The past wasn't done with her yet.
---
To be continued...