Evelyn stared at the letter for a long time.
She did not touch it again.
There was something deeply unsettling about those three words.
Not because they proved someone knew.
Because they implied that someone expected her to remember.
Remember what?
The story?
Her previous life?
Something else?
She looked toward the door.
Locked.
She checked the windows.
Closed.
The room was empty.
No footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Evelyn picked up the letter again.
The paper was ordinary.
The handwriting wasn’t.
The letters were precise and narrow, written with dark ink.
She didn’t recognize them.
That should have made her feel better.
It didn’t.
She burned the letter.
She watched the paper curl into blackened edges before turning to ash.
Then she slept with the dagger she had found in the desk drawer beneath her pillow.
The next morning, she told Lucien nothing.
Not yet.
The journey to the capital began shortly after sunrise.
A carriage waited outside the mansion.
Two guards rode ahead.
Two followed behind.
Lucien stood beside the carriage.
He was dressed for travel, wearing a dark coat and gloves.
Evelyn climbed inside.
He followed.
The carriage started moving.
For the first hour, neither spoke.
Evelyn looked through the window.
The northern territory stretched beyond the road.
Fields.
Small villages.
Forests.
People working despite the cold.
It looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
She remembered the novel’s description of this region.
The land of rebels.
That phrase had appeared repeatedly.
But there were no rebels here.
There were farmers.
Children.
Merchants.
Families.
People trying to live.
She wondered how many of them would die if the war began.
Lucien noticed her expression.
“What are you thinking?”
“The war.”
He became still.
“You know about it.”
“Everyone knows there are tensions.”
“Not like you.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“You still think I’m hiding something.”
“I know you are.”
She smiled faintly.
“You don’t give up.”
“No.”
“That’s annoying.”
“I’ve been told.”
She laughed quietly.
Lucien looked surprised.
It was the first genuine laugh he had heard from her.
Something in his expression softened.
Evelyn looked away before she could think too much about it.
They stopped at noon.
A small village had prepared food for the duke.
Lucien refused to eat until the villagers were served.
Evelyn noticed.
Again.
He wasn’t performing.
Nobody important was watching.
There was no reason to pretend.
He simply did it.
She sat beside him.
An elderly woman approached.
“Your Grace.”
Lucien stood.
“How is your husband?”
The woman smiled.
“Better.”
“And your granddaughter?”
“She started walking.”
Lucien nodded.
“Good.”
The woman looked at Evelyn.
“And this must be the duchess.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Yes.”
The woman looked between them.
“You look good together.”
Evelyn nearly choked.
Lucien remained expressionless.
The elderly woman laughed.
“You should smile more, Your Grace.”
Lucien looked at Evelyn.
“Apparently.”
Evelyn laughed again.
The journey continued.
By evening, they reached a small military checkpoint.
A messenger approached Lucien.
“Your Grace.”
“What happened?”
“The eastern road has been closed.”
“Why?”
“Bandits.”
Lucien’s expression hardened.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at him.
Two attacks.
Two locations.
Both occurring earlier than they should.
Lucien gave orders.
The guards moved immediately.
Evelyn watched.
Everything was efficient.
No shouting.
No panic.
The soldiers knew exactly what to do.
This wasn’t the behavior of a reckless warlord.
It was the behavior of a commander.
That distinction mattered.
The capital appeared two days later.
It was enormous.
Evelyn had imagined it from the novel, but reality was different.
The imperial city rose beyond massive walls.
Towers pierced the sky.
Flags hung from buildings.
Crowds filled the streets.
The palace stood at the center like a mountain of white stone.
Evelyn stared.
“This is beautiful.”
Lucien looked at her.
“You’ve never been here?”
“No.”
“Your family rarely brought you?”
“I suppose not.”
He didn’t comment.
They entered the city.
Evelyn expected to feel excited.
Instead, she felt uneasy.
She knew what would happen here.
The reception.
Adrian.
Celestia.
The beginning of the story.
But there was another problem.
She remembered the letter.
You remember, don’t you?
Someone in this city knew.
The carriage stopped at the Valemont residence.
Evelyn stepped outside.
Servants greeted them.
Everything seemed normal.
Until a young man approached.
He wore the colors of the imperial court.
“Lady Valemont.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Yes?”
“I was sent by His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Her heart skipped.
“What does he want?”
The messenger smiled.
“He requests your presence at the palace tonight.”
Lucien stepped forward.
“No.”
The messenger looked at him.
“His Highness specifically requested Lady Valemont.”
“She will not attend.”
Evelyn looked at Lucien.
“You can’t decide that.”
“I just did.”
“Your Grace.”
Lucien turned toward her.
“The capital isn’t safe.”
“You said that already.”
“And I meant it.”
She crossed her arms.
“Then accompany me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust the Crown Prince.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“You don’t trust him?”
“No.”
“But he’s the future emperor.”
“That doesn’t make him trustworthy.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
The hero wasn’t even safe from his own reputation.
The messenger waited patiently.
Finally, Evelyn said:
“I’ll go.”
Lucien looked at her.
“I’ll accompany you.”
The messenger bowed.
“His Highness will be pleased.”
That evening, Evelyn entered the imperial palace.
The reception hall was magnificent.
Crystal chandeliers.
Golden columns.
Hundreds of nobles.
Music filled the air.
Evelyn recognized several characters from the novel.
Dukes.
Countesses.
Political figures.
People who would later die.
People who would betray one another.
People who would become heroes.
And there, at the center of it all, stood the Crown Prince.
Adrian Ardent.
He looked exactly as Evelyn remembered.
Golden hair.
Blue eyes.
Elegant features.
The perfect prince.
He smiled as she approached.
“Lady Valemont.”
Evelyn curtsied.
“Your Highness.”
Adrian’s gaze moved toward Lucien.
“Duke Valemont.”
“Your Highness.”
There was tension between them.
Not hatred.
Not yet.
But distrust.
Adrian looked back at Evelyn.
“I’ve heard interesting things about you.”
Evelyn’s stomach tightened.
“What kind of things?”
“That you’ve been asking questions.”
Lucien’s expression changed.
Evelyn felt the same cold sensation she had felt when she found the letter.
Everyone knew something.
But nobody was saying it directly.
Adrian extended his hand.
“May I have a word with you?”
Evelyn looked at Lucien.
He nodded reluctantly.
She followed the Crown Prince to a quieter balcony.
The city glittered below them.
Adrian leaned against the railing.
“I’ll be direct.”
“Please.”
“You don’t belong here.”
Evelyn frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t mean the palace.”
He looked at her.
“I mean this story.”
Evelyn froze.
Adrian smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Knowingly.
“You look like someone who has already seen the ending.”
Evelyn couldn’t move.
Then he said the words that made the world seem to stop.
“Tell me, Lady Valemont.”
His eyes sharpened.
“How many times have you lived this life?”