The fragile partnership between Eva and Alaric was put to the test almost immediately. The court's gaze was ever-watchful, and rumors about their union swirled like an unrelenting storm. Every interaction, every glance they exchanged, was dissected and reassembled into fodder for palace intrigue.
The days following the council meeting were tense, with Eva struggling to navigate the labyrinthine world of court politics. She spent her mornings in etiquette lessons with the Queen's advisor, Lady Mariette, and her afternoons pouring over documents Alaric had insisted she read—histories of the kingdom, records of the council's dealings, and reports on the rising unrest in the borderlands.
Alaric, for his part, was a constant presence, though he kept a careful distance. He offered guidance when necessary but rarely lingered. His cool detachment frustrated Eva, though she couldn't deny it was also a relief. She was still learning how to play the role of Lady Evalina, and his scrutiny made her feel exposed.
It wasn't until a private dinner was arranged between them and King Gerald that Eva truly began to understand the stakes of their "united front."
The royal dining hall was a masterpiece of opulence, with its gilded walls, towering columns, and a long table set with enough silverware to overwhelm even the most seasoned noble. Eva arrived first, her nerves tightly wound. She smoothed her gown for the hundredth time, wishing she could disappear into the background.
When Alaric entered, his expression was unreadable, as always. He nodded briefly at her before taking his seat beside her.
"Relax," he murmured under his breath. "Father thrives on discomfort. Don't give him the satisfaction."
Before Eva could respond, the doors opened, and King Gerald swept into the room. His presence was commanding, his sharp eyes taking in everything with a single glance. He greeted them with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Ah, my son and his lovely bride," he said, his tone oozing false warmth. "It's good to see you both together. How are you finding married life?"
Eva hesitated, searching for the right response. "We're...adjusting, Your Majesty," she said carefully.
The King chuckled, a low, calculating sound. "Adjusting, indeed. Marriage is a challenge, is it not, Alaric?"
Alaric's jaw tightened, but his reply was smooth. "It is, Father. But Lady Evalina has proven herself to be adaptable."
"Adaptable," the King repeated, his gaze lingering on Eva. "That's an important quality in a queen-to-be. Tell me, Lady Evalina, do you think you have what it takes to lead this kingdom alongside my son?"
The question was a trap, and Eva knew it. She could feel Alaric tense beside her, though he said nothing.
"I think leadership is something that's earned, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart. "And I intend to prove myself worthy."
The King's smile widened, though it held no warmth. "An ambitious answer. I like that."
Throughout the meal, the King's questions grew more pointed, testing Eva's knowledge of the kingdom and her commitment to her new role. Each time, Eva did her best to hold her ground, though she could feel the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on her.
When the dinner finally ended, Eva felt as though she'd been through a battlefield. As the King bid them goodnight, she couldn't help but feel that she'd only narrowly escaped his claws.
Walking back to her chambers with Alaric, Eva couldn't hold back her frustration any longer.
"Is he always like that?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
Alaric glanced at her, his expression calm but guarded. "My father is a man who sees the world as a chessboard. Everyone is a piece to be moved, sacrificed, or conquered. Tonight, he was testing you, trying to see where you fit into his game."
"And did I pass?"
"For now," Alaric said, his tone clipped. "But don't let your guard down. He'll be watching you even more closely now."
Eva stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. "Is this what my life is going to be? A series of tests and traps, with no one I can trust?"
Alaric's gaze softened, just slightly. "Welcome to court."
Eva stared at him, her anger fading into something heavier. "Why do you stay, then? Why not walk away from all of this?"
He looked away, his expression unreadable. "Because walking away isn't an option. Not for me, and not for you."
As Eva lay awake that night, her mind raced with thoughts of the King and the precarious position she now found herself in. She realized that if she was going to survive in this world, she couldn't rely on Alaric alone.
The court was a battlefield, and she would need allies. But who could she trust?
Lady Mariette, with her sharp eyes and sharper tongue, seemed a likely candidate, though her loyalty to the Queen made her unpredictable. Lord Edrik was another possibility, though his motives were unclear.
And then there was Alaric himself—a reluctant ally, bound to her by circumstance rather than choice.
As the first rays of dawn crept through her window, Eva made a silent vow. She might be a pawn in this game for now, but she would find a way to change that.
The alliances she forged would be fragile, her enemies cunning. But if there was one thing Eva had learned in her previous life, it was how to survive.
Eva closed her eyes, allowing the exhaustion of the day to pull her into a restless sleep. Survival was a skill she had honed long before she stepped foot into the palace. Whether it was navigating the harsh realities of her former life or adapting to the treacherous world of court politics, she would endure.
But survival wasn't enough—not anymore.
If the court wanted to see her as a pawn, she would let them. She would play her part, biding her time, learning the rules of their game. And when the moment came, she would turn the board in her favor.
Her last thought before sleep overtook her was a whisper of resolve: She wouldn't just survive—she would rise.