Lady Evelyn Lancaster sat in the grand carriage as it rattled along the cobblestone road leading to Averleigh Palace, her gloved fingers tightening around the folded letter in her lap. The royal crest glimmered in the afternoon light — a reminder of the summons she could not ignore, no matter how much she wished she could.

Outside the window, the capital unfurled in all its gilded splendor. Tall spires, bustling markets, and noblemen on horseback filled the streets. The city's beauty did little to ease the knot twisting in Evelyn's stomach. She had been called to court — and she knew what that meant.

A marriage alliance.

She scowled, leaning her head against the window's cool glass.

Her father had warned her. "We cannot refuse the king's will, Evelyn. You are of noble birth, and the Lancaster name is not what it once was. This is an opportunity you must accept."

Evelyn had always prided herself on being independent, untouched by the gossip and ambition that ruled court life. But now, summoned to stand in glittering halls and parade herself like a prized horse at auction — she felt trapped.

The carriage came to a stop before the palace gates, towering and etched with royal sigils. Guards in crisp uniforms stood at attention, their eyes sharp, their spears gleaming.

As her footman opened the door and extended a hand to help her out, Evelyn gathered her skirts, inhaling slowly to steady herself. She was not here to play games, but she would not appear weak.

With her chin lifted, she descended from the carriage.

Inside the palace, sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting colored shadows along the marble floor. Servants bustled about, and nobles walked the halls with the grace of those born to power.

"Lady Evelyn Lancaster," the steward announced as she entered the grand receiving room.

Heads turned. Whispers followed.

Evelyn resisted the urge to smooth her dress. Instead, she walked forward, each step measured and calm, though her heart hammered beneath her bodice.

At the far end of the room stood Queen Eleanor, regal in emerald silk, and beside her — Prince Alexander.

Evelyn's gaze met his briefly, and she was struck by how coldly handsome he was — dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth set in a line that suggested he had no patience for pleasantries.

He regarded her with an expression that was impossible to read — but if she had to guess, mild irritation would be her bet.

Perfect, she thought dryly.

"Lady Evelyn," Queen Eleanor greeted her, voice smooth as glass. "We are pleased you accepted our invitation."

Evelyn curtsied gracefully. "Your Majesty. The honor is mine."

Queen Eleanor smiled, but there was a glimmer in her eyes — sharp, calculating. Evelyn had not come unnoticed.

The Queen's gaze flicked toward her son. "May I present my son, His Royal Highness, Prince Alexander."

Evelyn turned and inclined her head politely. "Your Highness."

Alexander gave a shallow nod. "Lady Evelyn."

Silence stretched between them.

Queen Eleanor broke it smoothly. "You must be weary from your journey. We have arranged for you to stay in the East Wing, overlooking the royal gardens. You will, of course, join us for dinner this evening."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Evelyn replied, her smile cool and polite.

As a lady-in-waiting moved to escort her, Evelyn gave the prince one last glance. His expression was unreadable, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that made her spine stiffen.

Evelyn turned gracefully and followed the lady-in-waiting out of the receiving room, her thoughts swirling.

The halls of Averleigh Palace were as grand as she remembered from her childhood visits — soaring ceilings, golden chandeliers, and towering windows that poured light onto polished marble floors. But now, as a woman rather than a child, she could feel the weight of expectation woven into every silk-draped corridor.

The lady-in-waiting, a sweet-looking young woman named Clara, offered her a gentle smile.

"You'll find the East Wing very peaceful, my lady," Clara said as they walked. "And the view of the gardens is lovely this time of year."

"I'm sure it is," Evelyn murmured, though her mind was elsewhere — focused on the encounter in the receiving room.

Prince Alexander.

The man had looked at her as though she were yet another problem to solve, another piece on his chessboard. She had expected cool politeness, but not such obvious disinterest.

Good, Evelyn thought grimly. If he doesn't want this alliance any more than I do, perhaps we can find a way to avoid it altogether.

Clara paused before a set of double doors carved with delicate roses. "Here is your room, my lady."

Evelyn stepped inside and was immediately surrounded by soft pastels and elegant furnishings — a room fit for a noblewoman, but far too fine for her tastes. Silk curtains, gilded mirrors, and a balcony overlooking the gardens greeted her.

Clara followed her in, setting her gloves and hat neatly on a chaise. "Dinner will be served at seven bells. If you need help dressing, just ring for me."

"Thank you, Clara."

When the girl had curtsied and left, Evelyn walked to the balcony and leaned on the stone rail, letting out a slow breath.

Below, the palace gardens stretched wide — fountains glittering in the sunlight, roses climbing trellises, and perfectly manicured hedges lining the paths. Nobles strolled arm-in-arm, their laughter drifting up to her.

She could already feel the weight of the court pressing down on her — the watchful eyes, the whispers, the expectations.

As she stood there, gathering her thoughts, a flash of movement caught her eye.

In one of the garden paths, a figure walked alone — tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with quiet purpose. Even from this distance, Evelyn recognized Prince Alexander.

His expression was stern, his jaw tight. He stopped for a moment beside a fountain, staring into the water as though deep in thought — or turmoil.

Evelyn frowned, watching him unnoticed.

What's your game, Prince? she wondered.

He didn't look like a man eager to meet a future bride — nor like someone playing the polite royal host. He looked… tired. Guarded.

Perhaps, she thought, they had more in common than she expected.

As the dinner bell echoed through the halls, Evelyn dressed carefully — choosing a gown of deep sapphire that set off her dark eyes and made her feel strong rather than delicate. If she had to play the part of a noble lady, she would do it on her terms.

When she arrived at the royal dining hall, it was already filled with nobles — the buzz of conversation, the clink of crystal and silver, and laughter echoing off marble walls.

She caught more than a few glances as she entered — curious, assessing.

Seated at the long table, Prince Alexander looked up as she approached. Their eyes met, and something unreadable passed between them — a silent challenge, perhaps.

Queen Eleanor gestured gracefully to an empty seat beside the prince. "Lady Evelyn, please join us."

With a polite smile, Evelyn curtsied and moved to take her seat.

Alexander said nothing as she sat down beside him.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, as the first course was served, Evelyn broke the silence, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

"It seems we are both here against our wishes, Your Highness."

Alexander's hand stilled on his goblet. He turned to look at her, eyes sharp. "You presume much, my lady."

She smiled sweetly, though her gaze was cool. "I only presume what is obvious."

A spark of something — irritation? Amusement? — flickered in his eyes.

"You are not what I expected," he murmured, lifting his glass to take a sip.

"Good," Evelyn replied smoothly, picking up her own. "I despise being predictable."

For the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of Alexander's lips.

As the nobles chattered around them and the queen watched from her place at the head of the table, Lady Evelyn and Prince Alexander sat side by side — two reluctant players in a game neither had asked to join, but neither willing to lose.

And so, the first move was made.