The morning after the grand revelation, the city buzzed with hushed whispers and animated gossip. Every noble house, from the lowest viscount to the highest duke, had heard the tale of how Evelyne Thorne, the fallen noble of Orvienne, had outwitted an entire ballroom of aristocrats and uncovered the murderer of Lord Hawke. The scandal was the subject of every conversation over breakfast, and the news had even begun trickling down to the common folk. But for Evelyne, the matter was not yet finished.

She needed to see the prince.

Securing an audience with a royal was no simple feat. The palace, a grand structure of marble and gold, was protected by layers of security and strict protocol. As she approached the towering gates of the imperial palace, she was met with a pair of royal guards clad in gleaming silver armor, their hands resting on their sheathed swords.

“Halt,” one of them commanded, his voice sharp. “State your name and business.”

Evelyne lifted her chin, adopting the air of confidence required to navigate the aristocratic world. “Lady Evelyne Thorne, Duchess of Orvienne,” she stated firmly. “I request an audience with His Highness, Prince Alaric Varellion.”

The guards exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. It was no secret that she was of noble blood, but her family’s fall from grace had left her standing in a precarious position. Still, her recent accomplishment—solving a crime that even the empire’s finest detectives had struggled with—had undoubtedly increased her standing in the eyes of the court.

“Wait here,” one guard finally said before disappearing through the towering iron gates.

Evelyne stood in the morning sun, her hands clasped before her, as the minutes stretched on. She had expected resistance. After all, she was not an esteemed official nor a high-ranking noble with influence at court. But she had something valuable—knowledge and wit—and she doubted Alaric would deny her request.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard returned. “His Highness has granted you an audience.”

She exhaled, hiding her relief, and followed the guard through the palace grounds. The path was lined with marble statues and fountains, their intricate designs a testament to the empire’s wealth. The palace itself was a masterpiece of architecture, its golden domes glinting under the sun, banners of the royal house fluttering in the breeze.

As she entered the main hall, she was led through opulent corridors lined with crimson carpets and chandeliers that cast a golden glow. Finally, the doors to the prince’s private study were pushed open, and she stepped inside.

Prince Alaric Varellion stood near the tall windows, his gaze fixed on the city beyond. Sunlight caught in his silver hair, turning it almost white, and his golden eyes flicked toward her as she entered. A knowing smirk played on his lips.

“You certainly do not waste time, Lady Thorne,” he said, motioning for her to take a seat.

Evelyne did not sit. Instead, she met his gaze head-on. “I came to collect my reward.”

His smirk widened, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Ah, yes. The terms of our wager.”

She had not forgotten. Before she had solved the case, she had made a bet with him—that if she succeeded in revealing the killer, she would be entitled to a reward of her choosing. And now, she had come to claim it.

Alaric crossed his arms. “Tell me, what is it that you desire? Gold? A noble title restored? A favor from the crown?”

Evelyne took a step forward. “A mine.”

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. “A mine?”

“A gold mine. Or a diamond mine. Whichever is available.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of a clock ticking. Then, the prince let out a chuckle, shaking his head in bemusement.

“You are ambitious,” he mused. “I expected something grand, but not quite so… practical.”

“I am pragmatic,” she corrected. “Wealth grants independence. With a mine, I would have resources to rebuild my family’s standing. And more importantly, it would grant me leverage in a world where power is everything.”

Alaric studied her for a long moment, his golden eyes sharp, assessing. Then, with a sigh, he gestured for a nearby attendant. “Fetch the records for the crown-owned mines.”

Evelyne remained composed, though a thrill ran through her. She had expected more resistance, but Alaric was not a man who went back on his word.

Minutes later, a ledger was placed before the prince, and he flipped through its pages before settling on one. He tapped a finger against the parchment. “The empire holds claim to several mines, but there is one that might suit your interests—an old gold mine on the outskirts of Orvienne. It was once prosperous but has been abandoned for some time due to instability in the region.”

Evelyne took in the information, considering it carefully. Even if the mine was no longer in peak condition, she could restore its operations. It was exactly what she needed.

“I will take it,” she said firmly.

Alaric smirked. “Then it is yours.”

A contract was drawn, the royal seal pressed into the parchment. With that single act, Evelyne Thorne had secured her first true foothold in reclaiming her family's lost prestige.

Word of her reward spread like wildfire.

The nobles whispered in disbelief, some in admiration, others in envy. A fallen duchess, securing a gold mine through sheer intellect? It was unheard of. Some sneered, believing she had aligned herself with the prince for favor, while others feared what she might become with newfound wealth.

But it was not just the nobility who took notice.

The common folk, upon hearing the news, found themselves rallying behind Evelyne. A noblewoman who had dared to stand against injustice, who had proven her intelligence and cunning in a society that often dismissed women? To them, she was more than a detective—she was a symbol of defiance against corruption. The markets, the taverns, the bustling streets—they all echoed with her name. Street performers recounted the tale of how she had unveiled a murderer among the elite, embellishing details for dramatic effect.

And amidst it all, Evelyne Thorne stood at the precipice of something greater.

For while the murder of Lord Hawke had been solved, the question remained—who had orchestrated the events that led to his death? And more importantly… what other secrets lurked beneath the surface of the empire’s glittering façade?

As she walked away from the palace, contract in hand, she could not shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.