Chapter 3: A Dangerous Invitation

Two days passed, and the city of Velaris remained blanketed in snow and whispers. Rumors crept through the palace halls like frost under a locked door. Evelynn's name was everywhere—spoken behind fans, murmured in council chambers, and scrawled in coded letters sent by raven at midnight.

It wasn't just the court that was watching.

It was the Crown.

Evelynn stood in the study of Thorn Manor, her fingers trailing over the spines of ancient books as Sera read the message aloud. The parchment was sealed with the royal crest—gold wax, unmistakable.

"Her Royal Majesty, Empress Celestine, invites Lady Evelynn Thorn to a private audience at the Winter Palace," Sera read. Her voice was steady, but Evelynn could feel the weight of the words. "Today. Noon."

So. The Empress wanted to see the girl who had been executed and reborn.

Evelynn turned from the bookshelf, her face unreadable. "Prepare my carriage. And the wine-red gown."

"The one with the daggers sewn in?"

A faint smile curved Evelynn's lips. "The very one."

---

The ride to the Winter Palace was slow, the snow making even the strongest wheels sink. As the city passed by her window, Evelynn watched people shuffle past—nobles in furs, beggars huddled at corners, guards with eyes like stone. The capital was alive with anticipation, a beast holding its breath.

She leaned back against the velvet seat, letting her mind calculate. The Empress's invitation was no simple tea party—it was a summons, a test, and possibly a trap. But Evelynn wasn't afraid of traps. She'd been born in one.

At the gates, her carriage was inspected thrice, each guard more tense than the last. Rumors of assassinations had made the palace paranoid. Good. That meant fear had returned.

The Winter Palace loomed like a monument to power—its tall spires stabbing into the gray sky, walls lined with stone-carved wolves and stained glass depictions of fallen kings. Evelynn was led through a labyrinth of hallways, each step echoing with her sharp heels.

The solarium was brighter than expected. A glass-walled chamber with living vines blooming against the ice, warmed by a sunstone furnace. It was beauty draped in artifice.

And in the center sat the Empress.

Celestine was not young, nor was she frail. Her age was a weapon—every wrinkle a battlefield, every quiet glance a sword. She wore no crown today, just a simple circlet of black iron, and a gown the color of bruised lilacs.

"Lady Thorn," she said, her voice smooth and soft, like the quiet before an avalanche. "You've returned from the grave."

"Not quite," Evelynn replied, offering a respectful bow. "But I appreciate the poetry."

The Empress gestured to the chair across from her. Tea was already poured. No guards in sight, though Evelynn could feel the presence of at least three in the shadows.

"You disappeared when it suited you," Celestine said, lifting her cup. "Now, you reappear when it suits me."

"Some things never change," Evelynn murmured.

The Empress smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Tell me, Evelynn. Why come back now, after all these years?"

Evelynn held her gaze. "Because now is when they least expect me."

"And what do you expect? Revenge? Redemption?"

"Neither. Justice. And something far rarer—balance."

There was silence. Then Celestine laughed, setting her cup down with a soft clink.

"You're still clever. That's dangerous."

"I'm done pretending to be harmless."

The Empress leaned in. "And if you were to seek more than just justice?"

Evelynn said nothing, but her eyes flickered with meaning.

Celestine studied her, then stood, walking slowly toward the frost-kissed windows.

"This court is a nest of vipers," she said quietly. "Some of them wear crowns. Some wear smiles. If you want to survive here, you'll need more than sharp words."

"I'm not here to survive," Evelynn said, rising to her feet. "I'm here to take back what was stolen."

The Empress turned. "Then prove yourself. Come to the Midwinter Tribunal. Be my advisor for the evening. Show me you haven't lost your teeth."

Evelynn bowed again. "I'll be there."

---

By the time she returned to Thorn Manor, the sun had begun to set, casting gold and crimson over the snow.

Kael, as usual, had made himself at home in her absence. He was stretched out across her favorite couch, reading one of her old journals with a smirk.

"Invading my privacy again?" she asked.

"Just refreshing my memory," he said, snapping the book shut. "So? Was she wearing her 'I'm-going-to-outlive-everyone' face?"

"She invited me to the Tribunal."

Kael's brows lifted. "Well, damn. That's bold."

"It's a test," Evelynn said. "She wants to see who I am now."

"And what did you show her?"

"Enough. Not everything."

Kael stood, tossing the journal aside. "The Tribunal is crawling with nobles who'd sell their souls for a whisper of power. You know that, right?"

"Good. I'm in the market for souls."

He grinned. "That's the Evelynn I remember."

She moved to the window, watching snow fall again, coating the streets in quiet malice.

"It's not enough to survive this time," she murmured. "I need to be the one writing the rules."

Behind her, Kael's voice was soft but certain. "Then it's time to sharpen the pen."

Evelynn's reflection stared back at her in the window. Calm. Poised. Dangerous.

The villainess wasn't just back.

She was setting the stage.

And the empire was about to witness her second act.