The whispers were turning into something sharper.

Watching Brynda’s downfall was like watching a dying circus show. She frantically danced through society, trying to gain applause, as the jeers slowly grew.

Reports of her losing control became more frequent. I heard of her outbursts. How she snapped at servants. How she fought with Lorran more frequently, their voices rising behind closed doors where others could still overhear.

She suspected she was being targeted.

She just didn’t know by whom.

But what caught my attention more than Brynda’s unraveling was the fact that Lorran was looking for me.

Word reached me through my contacts—Lorran had been asking around the market, speaking to vendors, describing a woman he had met briefly but couldn’t forget.

He didn’t know my name. He didn’t know who I truly was. But something about me had lingered in his mind.

I shouldn’t have cared.

Yet I found myself wondering what he was searching for. Did he sense something he couldn’t explain? Did he recognize me without understanding why?

More than that, I wondered what I would do if he found me again.

The logical choice was to avoid him, to let him chase after a shadow that would never take form.

But something in me hesitated.

I had spent so long building toward his ruin. I had ensured the cracks in House Norville would deepen beyond repair.

Yet now, when he was closer than ever to the destruction I had planned, I felt a flicker of something unexpected.

I told myself it was just the remnants of old familiarity, that I was only feeling the weight of unfinished history.

It didn’t change what I had to do.

House Norville’s latest loss came not because of incompetence or simple bad luck.

It came because Voyox willed it so.

But still, I faltered just when I knew I could go in for the kill.

As I reached the precipice, knowing I could make the final blow that would ruin House Norville once and for all, I wondered: What would Evan do?

Surely, the notoriously cold, calculating archduke would crush them with that final blow.

The door creaked open.

Speak of the devil.

Evan slipped into my cottage, as always, like he lived here.

He didn’t speak right away. He simply poured himself a drink from the bottle on my table, settling into the chair across from me as if nothing had changed.

I watched him over the rim of my own glass, waiting.

"You’ve been busy," he finally said, swirling the wine lazily.

I set my drink down. "So have you, apparently. You always know exactly what I’ve done before I tell you."

He smirked slightly. "You’re predictable."

I clucked my tongue. "You’ve never called me that before."

"Because you weren’t," he said. "But now? You’ve set a path, and I see exactly where it leads."

I leaned back, watching him carefully. "And where do you think it leads?"

He paused for so long, I wondered if he would answer. Then, “Somewhere I don’t want you to go.”

My eyes widened. Surely he didn’t mean for me to stop?

“Evan…did you not save me for this very reason?”

“And what reason do you think it was?” His deep voice was so naturally sensual, it was hard for me to focus on my train of thought.

“I…thought you had issues with House Norville. I thought you wanted my help taking them down.”

He set his glass down and leaned forward, as if he needed to be closer to me. “That’s my girl. Always quick to understand.”

“So then…why change your mind?”

Evan stood. He took one step toward me. “Because—” he took another step closer. “I like you the way you are.”

He stood directly in front of me. “And I don’t want you to lose who you are.”

Goosebumps rose on my arms. Was I turning into something bad?

Would I be like those lunatics in the fairy tales, the ones who never knew how to stop their evil deeds?

Thoughts of me, whip in hand, throwing my head back in maniacal laughter, flitted through my mind.

Cold fear enveloped me, threatening to bury me with the truth—that I had changed. That I may be past the point of no return.

Strong, warm hands gently grabbed my arms.

“Cassandra, where are you?”

My frightened thoughts faded as Evan’s face came into focus.

“There she is,” his soothing voice whispered, as his hands rubbed my arms. “It’s okay.”

I stared into his eyes, feeling naked. How could this man always know how I was feeling? It was as if he carried a part of my soul with him.

Suddenly, the feel of his hands stroking my arms became my focus.

Blushing, I backed away, out of his grasp.

Evan raised an eyebrow, but backed away, creating much-needed space.

He sat down, picked up his wine glass, and downed the rest of its contents.

“Tell me,” he said, setting the glass down as I took a sip from mine. “How far did you go with Lord Norville?”

I nearly spat my wine out. “Pardon me?” I said, as I dabbed the wine from my lips.

“You heard me,” he said, sounding more nonchalant than he should. “How far?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious.”

I inhaled slowly, thinking it through. “I…guess it doesn’t matter if you know, since it’s the most boring answer you’ll get.” I cleared my throat. “We kissed. Many times.”

“Tongue?”

“No.”

“Groping?”

“No!”

“Touching private parts?”

“NO!”

“Gods,” Evan murmured. “When you said boring, you really meant it.”

My blush deepened. “Yes, I was a prude. So sue me.”

“Sue you?” Evan said. “I’m elated. Why would I admonish you for only kissing a man? It’s not only refreshing but…”

He reached across the table with his long arm and gently gripped my chin. His thumb gently stroked my lower lip.

“I quite like knowing that you’re as close to mine as anyone.”

A choking sound came from my throat. It was the closest I could come to a protest, since I found my tongue had somehow decided to take a vacation.

When I finally found my voice, all I could say was, “What makes you think I’m yours?”

He let go of my chin, then leaned back in his chair.

“Oh, Cassandra.” His low chuckle filled the space between us. “If you think otherwise, you’re quite delusional.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re lucky I like men with big egos.”

He was already halfway to the door. “Good. You’ll love what comes next.”

He winked—and vanished into the night like some smug, impossibly attractive ghost.

I groaned and finished my wine. If I were going to survive this man, I’d need something more substantial than courage.

Like a lobotomy.