Across the ballroom, Calista stood poised, but her fury was a living thing beneath her painted smile.
She had spent years crafting this image—delicate, devoted, perfectly positioned beside the prince. And now?
One dance had undone it all.
Not just a dance. A performance.
Lucien stepping off his dais.
Aveline taking his hand like she never fell.
And the court? Eating it up like sugar-laced poison.
Her fan snapped in her grip, splintered and useless.
"They think she's relevant again," Calista murmured, mostly to herself.
Beside her, Viscount Renard cleared his throat uneasily. "You could still hold the prince's favor, my lady. One moment doesn't erase the years—"
"Silence," she said coolly, brushing past him.
She would not grovel. She would move.
Because if Aveline thought she could reclaim power, Calista would make her regret ever stepping back into the light.
Meanwhile, from a quiet alcove above the ballroom, Caden watched the fallout unfold with all the amusement of a man watching wolves tear at each other from behind glass.
He took a slow sip of wine, leaning against the cold stone.
"She stirs the court like wind in dry grass," he mused aloud.
"Who?" came a voice behind him.
He didn't turn.
"Who else?" he said. "The girl who should've stayed dead."
Aveline stepped through a side corridor draped in shadow, her heels soft against the velvet runner. The further she moved from the ballroom, the quieter the palace became—until all that remained was the faint thrum of music behind stone and silk-draped walls.
She didn't look back.
She didn't need to.
"Following me again?" she asked without turning.
Caden emerged from the shadows like smoke slipping through a keyhole, all calm amusement and untouchable grace.
"I don't follow," he said. "I observe. There's a difference."
She gave him a look—half smile, half challenge. "And what did you observe this time?"
"That you stole the entire room with one dance," he said smoothly, crossing his arms. "Bold. Dangerous. Deliciously reckless."
Aveline leaned against the wall, letting the cool stone ground her. "It was strategy."
"It was a declaration."
He stepped closer now, enough that his voice dropped to something low and almost personal.
"They see you now, Aveline. Not as a scandal. Not as a story. As a threat."
She didn't flinch. "Good."
Caden tilted his head, studying her.
"And what happens when the prince starts meaning it?" he asked, voice deceptively light.
Aveline's eyes narrowed. "He won't."
"But what if he does?"
Silence.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air felt tighter here, cloaked in things unsaid.
Then she looked away. "It doesn't matter. I won't make the same mistake twice."
Caden smiled, slow and razor-edged.
"No," he said. "This time, you'll make new ones."
Aveline crossed her arms, gaze sharp beneath the flickering torchlight.
"Enough riddles, Caden. You wanted to ally with me—now speak plainly. What do you want?"
Caden let the silence stretch a heartbeat longer, then stepped forward until there was barely a breath between them.
"Power," he said simply. "But not the kind they squabble over at court. I want leverage. Secrets. Influence so deep it doesn't need a throne."
"And you think I can help you get that?"
"I know you can," he replied. "You have the name, the history… and now, the attention."
She studied him for a moment, every instinct in her body whispering caution. But there was something in his eyes—not desperation. Not arrogance.
Clarity.
"And what do I get in return?" she asked, voice low. "Why shouldn't I use you the way you're trying to use me?"
Caden gave a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Because unlike them, I won't stab you in the back. I'll do it to your face—with warning—and you'd do the same for me."
Aveline's lips curved. "Honest betrayal. How charming."
"Honesty is rare here," he murmured. "And alliances, rarer still."
She turned, slowly walking a few steps down the corridor. Her gown whispered over stone, trailing like dusk behind her.
"I want access to the court records," she said at last. "The sealed ones. From the year I was exiled."
Caden's expression shifted—curiosity, calculation, then approval.
"I can get them," he said. "But they'll come at a price."
"Everything does."
They locked eyes.
For a moment, the shadows seemed to lean in closer.
"Then we have an accord," Caden said.
He held out his hand.
Aveline looked at it, then placed hers into his—firm, unflinching.
"Let's burn their lies to the ground," she whispered.