The palace gardens stretched endlessly, a labyrinth of manicured hedges, vibrant blooms, and bubbling fountains that seemed to sing in harmony with the gentle rustling of leaves. By all appearances, it was a perfect place for peace and quiet—an escape from the pressures of court life. Isla, however, had learned by now that appearances in this world were about as reliable as a faulty compass.
She strolled along the winding paths, Clara at her side, the two of them accompanied by the faint hum of bees darting between blossoms. The morning sun was warm but not oppressive, and the air carried the faint perfume of roses and lavender. It would have been idyllic if Isla wasn't constantly battling the urge to look over her shoulder.
"Lady Evangeline, you've been so quiet today," Clara observed, tilting her head to study her. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"I'm fine," Isla replied quickly, though her tone made it sound more like she was trying to convince herself. "Just… thinking."
Clara giggled, her auburn curls bouncing as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Thinking about Prince Louis, perhaps? He did look rather dashing during the ride the other day, didn't he?"
Isla nearly tripped over her own feet. "What? No! Absolutely not."
Clara's laughter rang out like wind chimes in the breeze. "Oh, don't be shy! It's perfectly natural to think about one's betrothed. And I must say, the way he glanced at you during the ride… well, I wouldn't say it was romantic, but it wasn't *entirely* indifferent either."
Isla groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Clara, please. I assure you, Prince Louis has no interest in me beyond what's required by duty. And frankly, the feeling is mutual."
Clara gasped, clutching her parasol as though Isla had just confessed to committing treason. "Oh, Lady Evangeline, you mustn't say such things! What if someone overheard? People might think you're trying to… to call off the engagement!"
"Well, wouldn't that be convenient," Isla muttered under her breath.
Clara's eyes widened, and Isla realized too late that she'd spoken aloud. "You don't mean that, do you?" Clara whispered, her voice hushed with a mix of horror and intrigue. "Surely you're not serious?"
"Of course not," Isla lied smoothly, forcing a reassuring smile. "Don't mind me, Clara. I'm just teasing."
Clara hesitated, her brow furrowing, but before she could press further, a voice interrupted them.
"Lady Evangeline."
Isla stiffened, her heart dropping into her stomach. She turned slowly, already knowing who she would see. Sure enough, Duke Adrian Blackthorn stood a short distance away, his dark coat blending with the shadows of the nearby hedge. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his intense gaze made Isla feel as though he were peeling back the layers of her soul one by one.
"Your Grace," she said, her tone carefully measured. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Adrian inclined his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint, almost mocking smile. "I was merely enjoying the gardens when I spotted you. I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Not at all," Clara chirped, completely oblivious to the tension that seemed to ripple in the air. "We were just discussing the upcoming festival. Isn't it exciting, Your Grace?"
"Thrilling," Adrian said dryly, his eyes never leaving Isla. "Though I imagine Lady Evangeline has more pressing matters on her mind."
Isla's pulse quickened. Was that a subtle jab, or was she just being paranoid? "I assure you, Your Grace, I'm quite focused on the festival," she said smoothly. "After all, it's such an important event."
"Indeed," Adrian murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he found her response amusing. "I look forward to seeing how you… navigate it."
Clara, ever the optimist, took Adrian's vague comment as a compliment. "Oh, I'm sure Lady Evangeline will be the belle of the masquerade! Don't you think so Your Grace?"
Adrian's gaze flicked briefly to Clara before returning to Isla. "Undoubtedly," he said, his voice low. "She never fails to make an impression."
Isla wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a warning—and frankly, she wasn't eager to find out. "If you'll excuse us, Your Grace," she said, forcing a polite smile, "Clara and I were just about to visit the rose garden."
"Of course." Adrian said, stepping aside with a slight bow. But as Isla and Clara walked away, Isla couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes lingering on her back.
---
The rose garden was as stunning as ever, the blooms a riot of colors ranging from pale blush to deep crimson. Clara was quick to launch into a commentary about the symbolism of each shade, but Isla barely heard her. Her encounter with Adrian had left her on edge, and her gaze darted around the garden, searching for any sign of eavesdroppers or unwanted company.
"Lady Evangeline" Clara said suddenly, breaking through Isla's thoughts. "Are you certain you're all right? You've been so distracted lately."
"I'm fine" Isla said automatically, though even she didn't believe the words. "Really, Clara. There's nothing to worry about."
Clara frowned, clearly unconvinced but before she could press further, the sound of approaching footsteps caught their attention. Isla turned, her heart sinking as she recognized the figure striding toward them.
Prince Louis.
He looked as perfectly composed as ever, his expression calm but distant. Isla couldn't read him any more than she could read Adrian, and it was starting to drive her mad. He stopped a few paces away, his blue eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her feel like she was being measured, weighed, and perhaps found wanting.
"Lady Evangeline" he said, his voice as cool and formal as ever. "May I have a word?"
Clara glanced between them, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Oh! Of course. I'll just… admire the roses over there." She scurried off, leaving Isla alone with the prince.
"Your Highness," Isla said, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "How can I be of service?"
Louis hesitated as though searching for the right words. "I've been meaning to speak with you," he said finally. "About our engagement."
Isla's breath caught. This was it. The moment she'd been dreading—and, if she were honest, secretly hoping for.
"Yes?" she said, keeping her voice steady despite the sudden hammering of her heart.
Louis's gaze softened slightly, and for the first time, he looked less like a prince and more like a man carrying the weight of too many expectations. "I've come to a decision," he said quietly. "And I believe it's best for both of us if.…"
"Lady Evangeline!"
The sudden shout made both of them turn. Clara was rushing toward them, her face pale and her expression frantic. "You need to come quickly," she gasped, clutching Isla's arm. "It's Duke Blackthorn,he's asking for you. And he says it's urgent."
Isla blinked, her mind reeling. "Urgent? What could he possibly"
"There's no time to explain," Clara said, tugging on her arm. "Please, you must hurry!"
Isla hesitated, glancing back at Louis. His expression was unreadable again, his jaw tight as though he were holding back whatever he'd been about to say.
"We'll finish this conversation later." he said curtly, stepping aside to let her pass.
Isla nodded, her stomach churning as she followed Clara out of the rose garden. Her thoughts raced as they hurried along the winding paths, her pulse quickening with every step. What could Adrian possibly want? And why now of all times?
When they rounded the corner and the scene came into view, Isla froze.
There, in the middle of the garden courtyard, stood Adrian Blackthorn. His coat was slightly disheveled, his usually calm demeanor replaced with something sharper—something almost feral. And at his feet, sprawled on the cobblestones, was a man Isla didn't recognize. The man's face was pale, his eyes wide with fear, and his hands trembled as he clutched a torn piece of parchment.
Adrian looked up, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.
"Lady Evangeline" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We need to talk."