The next few days passed in a blur.
Evelina — now "Eva" — moved like a ghost through Vaeloria's grand palace.
Cleaning floors. Tending gardens. Carrying water.
No one noticed her.
Exactly how she wanted it.
Until everything changed.
---
One afternoon, as she scrubbed the stone steps leading to the royal council room, voices floated down to her.
Urgent. Angry.
"The crops are failing in the southern villages," said a man.
"We cannot afford another rebellion."
King Lucien's voice replied, calm but cold.
"Solutions, not complaints."
There was a sharp scrape — the sound of someone slamming a document onto a table.
"My King, we must impose heavier taxes on the merchants. Squeeze the gold out of them before winter."
A knot twisted in Evelina's stomach.
Higher taxes would starve the poor.
Her kingdom had suffered the same fate before her aunt's betrayal.
Without thinking, without planning, she moved.
She picked up a fallen parchment — a map of the southern lands — and stepped closer to the council chamber.
A soldier barked, "Servants are not allowed—!"
But King Lucien lifted a hand, silencing him.
Evelina knelt just outside the door and raised her voice, trembling but clear.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. But... taxing the merchants will only bring revolt faster. Instead, if Your Majesty lends a small amount of grain from the royal stores and offers it to the villages for work instead of gold, loyalty would deepen."
Silence crashed over the room.
Every nobleman turned, jaws slack.
King Lucien rose slowly from his throne, his cloak whispering against the marble.
He stepped toward her.
Every step like thunder.
"You believe you understand ruling?" he said, voice dangerously low.
Evelina kept her head bowed. Her heart thundered against her ribs.
She wanted to scream.
To run.
But she forced herself to answer.
"I believe... loyalty cannot be bought with gold, Your Majesty. Only earned with mercy."
A long, terrible pause.
Then — a deep sound.
A chuckle.
Low and dangerous.
King Lucien actually laughed.
When Evelina dared a glance upward, she caught something unexpected in his silver gaze.
Amusement.
And interest.
"Stand up," he ordered.
Trembling, Evelina obeyed.
He studied her for a long, unbearable moment.
Then he turned to the nobles.
"Send word to the southern villages," he commanded. "There will be grain. There will be work. And there will be no new taxes."
The councilmen sputtered protests, but Lucien silenced them with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Without another word, he strode out of the hall.
As he passed Evelina, he paused briefly and murmured low enough only she could hear—
"Very clever, Eva. Very dangerous, too."
Then he was gone.
Leaving her breathless.
Shaking.
And something inside Evelina stirred for the first time since she lost her home.
Hope.