Duke Roland Evermere's POV:
Even on the night of the masquerade, when music still drifted faintly through distant corridors and laughter lingered in the great halls, there were corners of the palace that belonged to silence.
Duke Roland Evermere stood alone in one of them.
The garden terrace behind the eastern wing lay nearly deserted, the last of the dancers still gathered inside the ballroom. Beyond the stone balustrade stretched the royal gardens, quiet beneath the silver glow of the moon.
Roland rested both hands on the cold stone railing.
He had not planned to step outside.
Yet after speaking with Elowen, after seeing the quiet tension behind her calm eyes, he had needed air. Needed distance from the bright lights and the endless politics swirling inside the palace walls.
His daughter had always been perceptive.
Too perceptive.
Even as a child, she had seen things other children ignored. Understood matters that most nobles never noticed.
It had always worried him.
And tonight, seeing her here—standing in the middle of a palace that held more secrets than safety—had stirred a familiar unease deep in his chest.
The garden remained still.
For a long moment, he thought he was alone.
Then a voice spoke behind him.
"You should not have brought her here."
Roland's entire body stiffened.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned.
A figure stood in the shadows near the garden archway.
The face was hidden beneath a hood, the dark fabric swallowing what little moonlight reached the terrace. Only the outline of a tall figure was visible.
Roland's breath caught.
Nineteen years.
He had not heard that voice in nineteen years.
"You," he said quietly.
The figure did not step forward.
The distance between them remained untouched, as if an invisible boundary existed neither dared to cross.
"What are you doing here?" Roland asked, his voice low but steady.
The hooded figure tilted their head slightly.
"I might ask you the same."
Roland's jaw tightened.
"This is the royal palace."
"And she is inside it."
The words came sharp and quiet.
Roland knew immediately who the figure meant.
"Why is she here?" the figure asked.
Roland exhaled slowly.
"She was eligible."
The words sounded hollow even to his own ears.
"The Queen summoned every noble daughter of age."
"And you sent her."
Roland looked away briefly toward the dark garden paths.
"I had no choice."
The hooded figure gave a quiet laugh.
It was not a pleasant sound.
"There is always a choice, Roland."
He turned back sharply.
"She is my daughter."
"And because she is your daughter, she should never have been brought here."
Roland's patience frayed.
"You disappeared nineteen years ago," he said coldly. "You forfeited the right to question my decisions."
The hooded figure did not react.
Instead, the voice softened slightly.
"You do not understand what you have done."
Roland felt a chill crawl slowly down his spine.
"She is not supposed to be here."
The words echoed across the quiet terrace.
Roland's hands tightened against the stone railing.
"She will be safe."
"No."
The hooded figure stepped forward just enough for the moonlight to catch the edge of their cloak.
"You remember what happened nineteen years ago."
The memory struck him instantly.
Rain.
Lightning.
A storm so violent it had shaken the old Evermere estate from foundation to roof.
Roland swallowed hard.
"I remember."
"Then you know why she cannot remain here."
Roland's voice lowered dangerously.
"You are speaking in riddles."
The figure moved closer, though the hood still concealed the face completely.
"It is not safe for her."
The words carried a weight that made Roland's chest tighten.
"She must leave the palace."
Roland stared at the figure.
"That is not possible."
"It must be."
"Do you think I can simply remove her from the Selection?"
"Yes."
The certainty in the voice unsettled him.
"If she stays," the hooded figure continued quietly, "the wrong people will begin asking the wrong questions."
Roland's mind raced.
"What people?"
No answer came.
Instead, the figure stepped back toward the shadows.
"You need to take her away from here."
"Wait."
Roland stepped forward.
"For nineteen years, you vanish without explanation. Now you appear in the middle of the royal palace and expect me to simply obey?"
Silence stretched between them.
Then the voice came softer than before.
"You promised."
The words struck deeper than Roland expected.
His chest tightened.
"That promise was made under circumstances you refused to explain."
"And yet you kept it."
Roland did not respond.
The figure paused, as if considering something.
Then the voice came again, quiet and urgent.
"She was never meant to come to the capital."
Roland's heart pounded harder now.
"You still haven't told me why."
The hooded head tilted slightly.
"If you do not already understand…"
The voice trailed off.
"…then you are more blind than I feared."
Anger flared through Roland.
"You will not come here after nineteen years and speak to me like this."
The figure ignored him completely.
"Get her out of the palace."
"Tell me why."
The silence returned.
Long enough that Roland thought the figure might answer.
But instead—
The hooded figure stepped backward into the darkness.
"Wait," Roland said sharply.
But the shadows had already swallowed the shape.
Gone.
Roland rushed forward across the terrace.
The garden path beyond lay empty.
No sound.
No movement.
As if the mysterious visitor had never been there at all.
Roland stood still for several moments, listening to the wind stirring softly through the trees.
Nineteen years.
And yet the voice had not changed.
His thoughts drifted unwillingly to the ballroom inside.
To Elowen.
And to Selene.
Both his daughters are now entangled in the politics of the royal court.
Selene had always sought attention.
Power.
Recognition.
But Elowen…
Roland closed his eyes briefly.
Elowen had never wanted any of this.
Which made the warning even more troubling.
How was he supposed to protect her from something he did not fully understand?
Slowly, another memory rose from the depths of his mind.
A stormy night.
Nineteen years ago.
Rain had battered the roof of Evermere Hall like a thousand thrown stones.
Lightning split the sky again and again, turning the dark countryside into blinding flashes of white.
Roland had paced the corridor outside the bedchamber for hours.
The midwives had barred the door.
Inside, his wife had been fighting through a long and difficult labor.
The storm outside had grown so violent that servants whispered it was an omen.
Roland had not believed in such things.
Until the moment the door finally opened.
A midwife stepped into the corridor, pale but smiling.
"My lord," she said softly.
"You have a daughter."
Roland had rushed inside.
His wife lay exhausted against the pillows, her face pale but peaceful.
And in her arms…
A tiny child wrapped in a white cloth.
Elowen.
The first time Roland had held her, lightning had flashed through the tall windows behind him.
The thunder that followed had shaken the entire house.
Even now, he remembered how strangely quiet the room had felt after that.
How the midwives had exchanged uneasy glances.
How the wind outside had suddenly died.
Roland opened his eyes again on the dark terrace.
The mysterious figure's words echoed in his mind.
She was never meant to come to the capital.
His jaw tightened.
Too many secrets had been buried nineteen years ago.
Secrets he had never been given the full truth about.
But one thing was certain.
If the warning was real—
Then the palace might be the most dangerous place his daughter could be.
And Roland Evermere had no idea how he was supposed to save her.
Her letter. Maybe... He will be able to do something.