The halls of House Valmont were eerily quiet as Arin followed the servant through the dimly lit corridors. His footsteps barely made a sound against the polished marble floors, but he could hear the faint murmur of the night beyond the windows—the rustling of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl. This was the hour when secrets thrived, when the masks of nobility were set aside, if only for a fleeting moment.
He was being led to a private meeting with Lady Evelyne Valmont. It had been days since the official discussion of their engagement, but beyond pleasantries exchanged in public, they had not spoken in earnest. Now, under the cover of night, she had summoned him.
Arin's thoughts wandered as he approached the garden terrace where she waited. He had spent years buried in books—history, politics, strategy—preparing for the responsibilities of nobility. And yet, nothing in those texts had prepared him for Evelyne.
She was unlike the villainess the world painted her to be. There was a quiet resilience about her, a stubborn dignity in the way she carried herself despite the weight of her past. He knew that she was testing him, waiting to see if he would treat her like the others had—with either blind admiration or fear-tainted suspicion. He intended to do neither.
The servant stopped at the entrance to the terrace and bowed before stepping away. Arin hesitated for only a moment before stepping outside.
Evelyne stood at the balcony, her silhouette illuminated by the pale light of the moon. The wind played with the strands of her raven-black hair, sending them dancing like silk ribbons. She did not turn when he approached.
"You came," she murmured.
"Was there ever a question?" Arin countered, leaning against the railing beside her.
She let out a soft breath, one that might have been amusement or weariness. "Most would hesitate before seeking out the so-called villainess of Eldoria in the dead of night."
"And do you truly believe that title belongs to you?"
For the first time, she turned to face him fully. Her violet eyes—so sharp, so guarded—searched his face as if looking for something unseen. "It does not matter what I believe. The world has already decided my role."
Arin met her gaze steadily. "Then perhaps it is time to change the world's mind."
She scoffed, though there was no real malice in it. "Naïve words, Lord Devain. Even you cannot rewrite history."
"History is written by those who refuse to accept their fates as inevitable," he replied smoothly. "I do not see why you should be any different."
Evelyne studied him in silence. Then, finally, she sighed and looked away. "You speak as though you know me, but you do not. You see only the fragments of a story too twisted to unravel."
Arin was quiet for a moment. "Then unravel it for me."
She stilled. A long pause stretched between them, filled only by the whisper of the wind through the gardens.
"My mother died when I was young," Evelyne said at last, her voice softer than he had ever heard it. "It was sudden. Too sudden. And though no one dared to say it aloud, there were whispers. Whispers that I was cursed. That her misfortune had been passed down to me."
Arin listened without interruption.
"It only worsened as I grew older. Every misstep, every misfortune that befell House Valmont was blamed on me. A sickly merchant who failed to deliver his goods? It was because I had spoken to him. A nobleman who fell from grace? Clearly, he had ties to me."
She laughed then, a bitter sound. "You see, Lord Devain, I did not earn the title of villainess. It was given to me long before I had a chance to defy it."
Arin exhaled slowly. "And yet, you still stand."
Evelyne glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "What choice did I have?"
"Many would have surrendered. Accepted the fate forced upon them."
"I am not many."
"No," Arin agreed. "You are not."
Another pause. This time, it was Evelyne who broke it.
"Tell me, Lord Devain," she said, turning to fully face him. "Why did you agree to this engagement?"
Arin considered his answer carefully. He could not tell her the full truth—not yet. But he could offer her something close to it.
"Because I do not believe in damning someone for sins they did not commit."
Her expression flickered, a hint of surprise breaking through her mask.
"And because I believe, Lady Valmont," he continued, "that we are both more than the roles this world has written for us."
For a long moment, Evelyne said nothing. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod, she turned back to the garden.
"We shall see, Lord Devain," she murmured. "We shall see."
And as the moon watched over them, a silent pact was formed—one that would alter the course of fate itself.