"How unfortunate," Rachel murmured, her gaze sweeping over the carriages, taking in the minor damage with mild amusement. "Though, I suppose these things do happen. Are you both unharmed?"
"Yes, Your Highness," I replied smoothly. "A minor collision, nothing more."
Her violet eyes shifted to Evelyn with a glimmer of interest. "Lady Evelyn, isn't it? I've heard much about you, though it seems we've yet to be properly introduced."
Evelyn lowered herself in a graceful bow. "You honor me with your attention, Your Highness."
Rachel offered a polite smile, though there was a glint of calculation behind it. "Not at all. From what I understand, you've already accomplished much in the realm of magic. Even at a glance, I can sense it."
"You flatter me," Evelyn replied with quiet humility.
"I was on my way to the Royal Gardens," Rachel continued, almost offhandedly. "Perhaps you'd both care to join me? The jasmine is in bloom, and it's quite enchanting this time of year."
It was clear this was more command than invitation, and with a glance at Evelyn, we fell into step behind her. We walked through the ornate garden gates, the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet mingling with the faint scent of flowers on the breeze.
"So, Lady Evelyn," Rachel began, her voice light but probing, "how are you finding life in the capital? I imagine it's quite different from the quiet of the countryside."
Evelyn chose her words carefully. "It's... certainly more lively, Your Highness."
"Quite. Though, I suspect the real adjustment is not the city itself but the company you now keep." Rachel's gaze flicked to me briefly before returning to Evelyn. "Your engagement to Lord Silvaria—such an arrangement must have brought its own… changes."
A subtle tension lingered in the air, her words holding an unspoken curiosity, a sense of inquiry masked by courtly pleasantries.
"Lord Silvaria has been very kind," Evelyn replied softly.
"Kind," Rachel repeated, as though she were savoring the taste of the word. She paused by a flowering jasmine bush, trailing her fingers lightly over a pale petal. "An interesting choice of words. Most speak of matches in terms of advantage or alliance. But kindness…" She turned, and for a heartbeat, her gaze sharpened, taking us both in with unnerving intensity.
Rachel's eyes settled on me. "Your fiancée touches her left sleeve whenever you say her name."
"Does she?" I glanced at Evelyn, surprised, not having noticed such a habit.
"Three times in the last two minutes," Rachel went on, her tone deceptively light. "But only when you say it with that particular tone—the softer one, pitched a touch lower." She tilted her head, studying us with the quiet scrutiny of someone unraveling an intricate tapestry. "You're shielding her, that much is clear, but there's also something else there. A trace of fear… perhaps of her?"
A small smile played on her lips, and I felt a chill creep down my spine. Rachel was peeling back layers I hadn't even fully acknowledged.
"Fascinating. You lean in slightly when you speak to her, but your right foot is always angled toward the nearest exit. Your very stance hovers between stepping closer and retreating."
I felt my pulse quicken. These subtle tells, these patterns—she'd detected them in minutes, piecing together things I barely understood myself.
"Your relationship," she continued, her voice as soft as the jasmine-scented breeze, "it's like watching someone reach for a shadow while standing in full sunlight. Beautiful, perhaps, in its own way. But elusive… impossible to hold in both hands." Her gaze held mine for a breath longer than was comfortable. "I wonder which of you is the shadow?"
Her observation struck like an arrow, piercing through layers I hadn't yet managed to untangle. A truth, or maybe just a question, that left me momentarily silent, uncertain how to respond to her uncanny insight.
But Rachel only smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. "Don't worry," she said, her gaze drifting toward the distant blooms, "some shadows are worth chasing… even if we never fully understand why."
We returned to our carriage, setting off once more toward the estate. I settled in beside Evelyn, her presence steady and quiet as the city of Thalendris slipped away behind us.
'Genius,' I mused, glancing out the window but still feeling the echoes of Crown Princess Rachel's words.
She had unraveled my relationship with Evelyn so effortlessly, as if she could pluck truths from the air like ripened fruit. The way she had pieced together what even I barely admitted—it was unsettling. Could she read minds? No, it was something more unnerving than that—a talent for peeling back façades, for exposing the parts of a person they kept hidden, even from themselves.
I leaned back, staring up at the carriage ceiling. 'So this is the Jewel of the Killion Empire,' I thought. This young princess was the true heart of the Evereux family's regained strength, their rising influence—one that even a mediocre emperor couldn't dull. Her power wasn't just in magic, though that was formidable enough; it was her mind, her ability to see through facades with an intellect as sharp as any blade.
Rachel had seen through my carefully constructed distance with Evelyn, unraveling what lay beneath: not love, but something more fragile and painful—a duty I clung to, haunted by the specters of my past life. I didn't love Evelyn; I acted the part to save her, as if somehow that could redeem me, erase the guilt of the life I couldn't save before.
I closed my eyes, and the memories rose unbidden, as clear and cruel as ever. Her voice lingered like smoke, her smile, her final words, slipping through my mind like fading echoes. I had doubted her, dismissed her fears—and that doubt had cost her everything.
'Hero...' The word brushed against my thoughts, soft but accusing, as vivid as the sight of her face as blood trickled from her lips, her last breath stolen by my failure to protect her. She'd trusted me, and I hadn't believed her.
I turned to Evelyn, forcing the memory back. But for a moment, her face seemed to blur, overlapped with that other face, that smile I could never forget, a reminder of the worst mistake of my life.
I wouldn't let it happen again. I couldn't.
Because in this world, I wasn't a hero bound to ideals. I was just a man with a selfish determination.
Yet, being outsmarted by a child left a bitter taste in my mouth. Rachel was not even fourteen, and I had lived a whole other life before this one—a life honed by trials that forged me into someone who prided himself on insight and resilience. To be so neatly outmaneuvered by someone so young felt like a blow to my pride.
A quiet smile curled at my lips despite myself. 'Looks like Thalendris will be more interesting than I thought.'