Aveline walked through the marble corridors of the duchy like a woman reborn.
No longer the simpering fiancée of the crown prince. No longer a pawn on a bloodstained board.
The whispers still followed her, curling behind curtains and around corners like smoke.
"She actually did it—turned the prince down."
"Maybe she's cursed. I heard her mother went mad."
"Do you think the crown will retaliate?"
She let them talk.
Let them wonder.
It was better than being predictable.
⸻
In the drawing room, a letter awaited her.
The seal was royal, but not from the palace.
She cracked it open with care, scanning the words.
Lady Aveline,
If you're truly done playing the villainess…
Then it's time we spoke.
—Caden Everhart, Royal Mage of the Third Circle
Aveline raised a brow.
So the court mage had taken an interest. He was no puppet like the nobles. A man with power—and secrets.
This could be dangerous. Or exactly what she needed.
"Interesting," she murmured. "The game begins."
The greenhouse was an odd place for a meeting. Overgrown vines curled along the glass ceiling, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and something sharper—like burning paper and old ink.
Aveline stepped inside, silk skirts trailing behind her, every movement deliberate. She wore no jewelry, no crown, only confidence.
A man stood near the fountain at the center, back turned, fingers lightly tracing the surface of the water. He didn't turn at her approach.
"I expected more dramatic lighting," she said. "A little thunder, perhaps?"
Caden Everhart glanced over his shoulder, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His robes were dark blue, embroidered with silver sigils that shimmered when he moved.
"You don't need theatrics, Lady Aveline," he said. "You bring your own storm."
She arched a brow. "Flattery from a mage? How uncharacteristic."
"I didn't summon you here to flatter you." He faced her fully now, eyes sharp and intelligent. "I came to ask why the villainess threw away her crown."
Aveline crossed her arms. "And what makes you think I'll answer?"
"Because I know you weren't always the villain."
A beat passed in silence.
Then she asked quietly, "What do you know?"
"Enough to see the script changing," Caden said. "And I'm curious who's holding the quill now."
Aveline tilted her head, watching him with the poise of someone raised to sit beside thrones but born to walk battlefields.
"Curiosity is a dangerous trait in the imperial court," she said softly. "Especially for a man who trades in secrets."
Caden's lips curled slightly. "Danger keeps me sharp."
"How convenient. Then I'm sure you won't mind a little test."
She stepped closer, voice low but firm. "Tell me, Mage Everhart… what was I accused of before my execution?"
He didn't hesitate. "Treason. Conspiring to assassinate the crown prince using forbidden magic."
She studied him, eyes narrowing. "And do you believe it?"
His gaze didn't waver. "I believe what the court wanted to believe. But I also believe stories like yours don't end at the gallows without good reason."
Aveline let the silence stretch between them before saying, "Then you're either smarter than you look… or more dangerous."
Caden stepped toward her, his tone dropping just enough to unsettle.
"Perhaps both."
A flicker of interest passed through her eyes, but she didn't let it settle. She turned away, trailing her fingers along the marble fountain.
"Very well," she said. "You wanted to know who holds the quill now?"
She looked back at him, her expression cool, unreadable.
"I do. And I don't plan on writing another tragedy."
Caden watched her in silence for a moment, then reached into his coat and withdrew a sealed scroll.
"I came to you because you're not the only one walking on borrowed time."
Aveline didn't take the scroll immediately. "Explain."
"There are factions in the court that never wanted you to marry the prince. But they didn't want you executed either. Not yet. Your death created a ripple… and someone's trying to finish what they started."
He held out the scroll.
"This is a list of names. Nobles. Spies. Magic-binders. People who benefit from keeping the truth buried."
Aveline took it slowly, her fingers brushing his. "And you want to unbury it with me?"
"I want what you want," he said. "Control over my own fate. And a chance to tear down the ones who play gods behind palace doors."
She studied him. His eyes were steady. His voice clear. If he was lying, he was better than most.
But she didn't believe in trust. Only usefulness.
"Fine," she said at last. "We'll work together. But let's be clear—if you betray me, I'll destroy you."
Caden smiled faintly. "I'd expect nothing less."
They stood in the quiet for a breath longer, an accord signed not in ink, but understanding.
Two outcasts. One alliance.
And the story was only just beginning.