That afternoon, the maids were in a frenzy.
Curtains were dusted twice. Silver polished until it gleamed. Even the head maid—usually stiff and calm—looked ready to collapse from nerves.
Clarisse peeked into my room, cheeks flushed. "M-My Lady… His Highness the Crown Prince is arriving shortly."
I froze.
Crown Prince Caelum.
My fiancé.
My executioner.
In the past, I would've leapt from my chair, racing to pick the perfect dress, fussing over ribbons, desperate to make him smile. I had clung to his title like a lifeline, like maybe—just maybe—he'd grow to care.
But he never did.
Not when I bowed.
Not when I cried.
Not even when I died.
"…Tell the servants I'll be ready soon," I said, voice calm.
Clarisse blinked in surprise, but nodded quickly and scurried away.
I turned to the mirror.
My ten-year-old self stared back.
Small, pale, with wide violet eyes and long black curls. I looked delicate. Harmless.
But inside, I carried memories stained in betrayal and regret.
I wore a simple navy gown—no jewels, no lace. Just dignity.
When I entered the drawing room, he was already there.
Caelum Arcturus.
Thirteen years old, but already taller than most boys. Pale blond hair, eyes like winter steel. He stood perfectly straight, posture flawless.
Cold.
Just as I remembered.
He turned to look at me—and hesitated.
That hesitation was new.
"Your Highness," I said, lowering into a graceful curtsy.
In the past, I would've said Caelum with bright eyes and longing.
Today, I didn't.
He studied me quietly. "…Lady Evelyne."
I straightened. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"
He blinked again—just slightly.
Was he… surprised?
"You collapsed last week. I was told it was a fever."
"It passed," I replied simply. "But thank you for the concern."
Another pause.
He sat down, motioning to the seat across from him. I joined, the silence between us like a chessboard waiting to be played.
"You seem… different."
So he noticed.
"Do I?" I smiled lightly. "Perhaps I've simply grown up."
He stared for a moment longer, then looked away. "I was told you cried often. Threw tantrums. Demanded dresses."
"I suppose that was true." I sipped tea. "I was foolish then."
He said nothing, but I saw his fingers twitch. Like the pieces weren't moving as expected.
Good.
Let him be confused.
Let him wonder who I really am now.
Because this time, I wouldn't cling to him.
This time, I would protect myself.
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