The assassin was silent.
Tied in enchanted chains, locked in a warded cell below the palace, his mouth was sewn shut with magic thread. A precaution against curses… and confessions.
Evelyne stood before the bars, eyes cold.
"He won't speak," the warden said. "But his belongings—"
She raised a hand. "Show me."
A worn coin. A shard of green glass. And… a handkerchief embroidered with the crest of House Vernalyn.
Her mother's side.
The family that had disowned her the moment she was marked a villainess.
Evelyne clenched her jaw. "Prepare a carriage."
"Where to, Your Grace?"
She didn't answer. She didn't need to.
They already knew.
---
House Vernalyn
The estate was as she remembered—opulent, cold, and reeking of fake smiles.
Her aunt greeted her at the gates with a bitter smile. "How lovely. The disgrace returns."
Evelyne walked past her.
Straight into the drawing room, where her cousin sat sipping wine with several young nobles.
Among them was Lord Vincent Vernalyn—her older cousin.
"Poison is a coward's weapon," she said, tossing the handkerchief on the table.
Vincent stilled.
"I thought you were stronger than that."
The others glanced between them, confused.
Vincent chuckled, then stood.
"You think I sent someone to kill you?"
"I know you did."
He leaned close, whispering just loud enough: "I should've finished you years ago."
---
The Return
Evelyne left the estate with a warning echoing behind her.
"This won't end well, Evelyne," Vincent called. "You've made yourself a target again."
She didn't look back.
In the carriage, she clutched the necklace Elisse had given her long ago.
A simple trinket.
But a reminder of the girl she had once protected.
I can't die yet.
Not until she's safe.
---