Blades & Lies

By sunrise, Evelyn knew she had made a grave mistake.

She had expected her impulsive declaration to Lord Byron to remain a private embarrassment—a ridiculous moment that would be forgotten by the following day. Instead, it had spread like wildfire.

By the time she reached the training grounds that morning, the whispers had already begun.

Knights stole sideways glances at her. Some smirked, others raised eyebrows in curiosity. A few exchanged knowing looks, as if they had been waiting for this moment for years.

Evelyn tightened her grip around her practice sword. This was a disaster.

She tried to ignore it, focusing on the precise movements of her drills. The fluid arc of her blade, the sharp exhale of her breath, the satisfying clash of metal against metal as she parried her opponent's strike.

But no amount of training could drown out the voice that cut through the morning air.

"So, Lady Varcrest, how long have you and Sir Damien been sneaking around?"

Evelyn froze mid-strike.

Her sparring partner, a broad-shouldered knight named Garret, grinned at her like a man who had just stumbled upon the kingdom's greatest scandal. Around them, the rest of the knights paused their training, eager to hear her response.

Evelyn lowered her sword, exhaling sharply. This was ridiculous.

"We haven't been 'sneaking around' anywhere," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

Garret raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Because rumor has it, you've been desperately hiding your love affair with the infamous Shadow Knight."

Evelyn's eye twitched.

Someone in the group snorted. "Hiding? Lady Evelyn practically declared it in the marketplace."

She was going to kill Damien.

Before she could think of a retort, a new voice joined the conversation—one she recognized immediately.

"Well, well," drawled the very man responsible for her current misery. "It's good to know our relationship is the talk of the kingdom."

The knights whirled around as Damien Aldric strolled into the training grounds, his black coat fluttering behind him, his silver eyes gleaming with unholy amusement.

Evelyn barely restrained the urge to throw her sword at his head.

Instead, she crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?"

Damien placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. "Can't a devoted lover check on his dear fiancée?"

Silence.

Evelyn felt every knight within earshot stiffen.

Then—

"Fiancée?!" Garret choked on his own breath.

"Wait, wait, wait," another knight interjected, eyes wide with pure disbelief. "Since when were you two engaged?"

Evelyn turned to Damien so violently that he should have burst into flames.

"Fiancée?!" she hissed under her breath. "What the hell are you doing?"

Damien only smirked. "You didn't think I'd let you have all the fun, did you?"

Evelyn resisted the overwhelming urge to kick him in the shins.

Unfortunately, she couldn't even deny it outright—not when half the kingdom was already convinced they were romantically involved. If she backtracked now, it would raise even more suspicions.

Damien seemed to read her thoughts, because his smirk widened.

"Relax, love," he murmured. "I'm only playing my part."

His part?!

Before Evelyn could strangle him, a young squire came barreling into the training grounds, breathless and frantic.

"Lady Evelyn!" he called, waving a letter. "This just arrived from the royal palace!"

Evelyn snatched the envelope, already dreading what was inside. The royal seal glinted in the morning sunlight—a clear indication that this was not something she could ignore.

She broke the seal, unfolding the parchment with careful hands. As her eyes skimmed over the words, her stomach dropped.

"What is it?" Damien leaned over, reading over her shoulder.

Evelyn swallowed hard.

"We've been summoned to the palace banquet."

The words felt like a death sentence.

A Banquet of Nightmares

That evening, Evelyn stood before her worst nightmare—a ballroom filled with noble vipers, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and thinly veiled amusement.

She had attended royal banquets before, of course. As a knight, she was expected to make appearances at high-profile events. But never like this.

Never as one half of the kingdom's most talked-about couple.

She was beginning to regret not stabbing Damien when she had the chance.

Speaking of the source of all her problems—

"You look lovely tonight, love," Damien murmured beside her, offering his arm in an exaggeratedly charming manner.

Evelyn ignored him and focused on not committing murder in front of royalty.

"Just behave," she muttered. "And try not to make this worse."

Damien grinned. "No promises."

They had barely stepped into the ballroom before the whispers began.

"Is that Lady Evelyn? With Sir Damien?"

"Surely not—she hates him, doesn't she?"

"Well, they do look rather good together…"

Evelyn fought the urge to grit her teeth.

Then, as if the night couldn't get any worse, a voice cut through the noise.

"Ah, Lady Evelyn, Sir Damien—so good of you to join us."

Evelyn turned sharply, her muscles tensing as she found herself face-to-face with none other than Duke Renard Valwick.

The kingdom's most dangerous noble.

A man who thrived on manipulation, who collected secrets like a spider spinning a web.

And judging by the calculating glint in his eyes, he had already decided they were his next game.

"You must be quite serious about each other," the duke mused, swirling his wine glass lazily. "After all, it is not every day that the Crown takes an interest in a mere courtship."

Damien's grip on Evelyn's waist tightened slightly—a subtle warning.

Evelyn forced a smile. "Of course, Your Grace. Damien and I are quite… dedicated to each other."

Damien's breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Careful, love. He's testing you."

Evelyn already knew that.

Duke Valwick smiled knowingly. "How wonderful. In that case, I do hope you'll both be available to meet with the king himself."

Evelyn's blood ran cold.

The king?

Whatever she had just gotten herself into—it was far worse than she ever imagined.