CHAPTER 5 “Summoned”

Her hand hovered inches from the door.

Just as Evelyne's fingers brushed the handle

"P-Princess!"

A trembling voice broke the silence.

She turned, finding a pale-faced servant bowing low, eyes fixed on the floor.

"The King… has summoned you to his study."

Evelyne's eyes narrowed. "Now?"

"Y-Yes, Your Highness. Immediately."

She didn't question it.

Only turned and followed, her heels clicking against the cold marble, the air around her heavy with tension.

And then she heard it.

Drip.

She paused.

A sound like thick droplets hitting the stone floor. Then a whisper. Faint. Her name.

"…Evelyne…"

She glanced over her shoulder.

No one.

Her pace quickened, but so did the sound. The corridor around her stretched long and shadowed, as if the walls themselves were listening.

Drip. Drip.

Evelyne…

When she reached the tall doors of the King's study, the servant quickly stepped ahead and knocked.

"The Princess has arrived," he announced.

A voice, sharp and impatient, replied: "Let her in."

The door groaned open. Evelyne stepped inside alone.

Her father stood near the hearth, swirling wine in a gold-rimmed goblet, his back turned. Flames crackled behind him, but the chill in the room was colder than death.

He turned at the sound of her approach, lips curling in something that might've been a smile if it wasn't so hollow.

"My daughter," he said flatly.

Evelyne didn't answer.

The King took a slow sip, then set the goblet down with a sharp clink.

"I tire of hearing your name whispered like a curse. Do you know what they call you now? Widowmaker. Lady Death. The Scarlet Thorn."

She said nothing.

He walked toward her with heavy steps.

"Your cursed blood has brought shame to this court. But… perhaps it can still be of use."

He stopped inches from her face.

"You will marry the Duke of the North."

"I assume I have no say," she said coolly.

"Of course not," he snapped. "

You'll leave at dawn. I've already sent word. The North can have you. You should feel lucky—he hasn't rescinded his offer despite your… reputation."

He walked back to his desk, picking up a sealed letter.

"Duke Vale will receive you. Whether you walk, ride, or are dragged there makes no difference to me." He waved his hand dismissively.

"I've done my duty. I gave you dresses, tutors, and a title. But affection? You were never owed that. You were meant to be married off. And now you will be."

The fire cracked louder as silence pressed between them.

"Then I will stop pretending you were ever my father."

The words hung in the air, sharp as a dagger.

The King's hand lashed across her face before she could even take another breath. The force sent her crashing to the floor, her head spinning. Her cheek stung, her vision blurred.

"How dare he mock me," the King roared, pacing. "

That arrogant northern whelp—Severin! This is all your fault!"

He pointed at her like she was filth.

"My wife died because of you. My sons… all gone because of you. And still you breathe."

Evelyne remained on the floor, stunned.

Her father lifted a goblet of wine, then hurled its contents into her face. Red streaked down her pale skin like blood.

That was the first time in years Evelyne cried. Not from pain but because her last thread of hope for a father finally snapped.

"You blame me for your grief, for your failures," she said, her voice trembling.

"I was a child, and you turned me into a curse. You broke me before I could even grow. My mother took her life because she grew tired of you"

The king sneered, stepping close.

"Once you're in the North, I will use you. Use your curse, your name, to strengthen my kingdom. You're nothing but a pawn for the true heir. That's your only purpose."

He spat the words like venom.

"Everyone who's ever loved you died. Maybe they should have known better."

The fire in Evelyne's eyes finally rose. Slowly, she stood, drenched in wine and fury, heart beating like war drums.

"I am not your tool. I am not your sacrifice. I am not yours."

Without waiting for a dismissal, she turned and walked away, every step echoing through the palace like a tolling bell.

The guards did not meet her eyes.

The servants bowed not out of respect, but fear.

She left the palace halls behind and found her way to the old sycamore tree, the one she and Luke used to climb before the weight of the crown crushed their childhood.

The sun was fading, painting the sky in hues of bruised purple and gold.

She stood beneath the tree, silent, broken, angry.

Then footsteps.

A gentle tap on the head.

"I'm here," Luke said softly.

She didn't have to look to know it was him.

For the rest of the evening, they sat beneath the tree, leaning on one another like they used to.

They laughed.

They remembered the days before the world told them who they had to be.

But above them, a single raven circled.

They sat beneath the old sycamore tree, just like they used to, before crowns and curses, before titles and tragedies.

The moon cast silver halos around the leaves, and for once, the silence was soft, not heavy.

"It still smells like pine," Luke said, running his hand over the bark. "

You remember when we tried to carve our names in this?"

"You panicked halfway and said the tree was bleeding," Evelyne laughed, and it wasn't forced this time. "

We ended up crying over tree sap."

Luke chuckled.

"I was seven! I thought we cursed it."

"Maybe we did," she murmured.

The laughter died down, replaced with something quieter. Something more fragile.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, not saying anything for a while. She felt safe beside him, and she hated that safety had become rare.

"I will stand by your side, Princess," Luke said eventually, voice low.

"No matter what happens. I am your loyal guard. And your friend."

Evelyne closed her eyes. "My father says I ruin everything. That everyone I love dies."

Luke tilted his head.

"Do you love me, then?"

Her eyes flew open.

Luke grinned. "Just trying to see if I need to write my will tonight."

"Don't joke about that," she snapped, but he could hear the worry underneath.

"I'm serious, Evelyne. If there is a curse it won't touch me. I'm too damn stubborn."

She didn't know what to say. So, she reached into her sleeve and handed him a small, folded cloth.

"Here., I made this." Luke opened it and burst out laughing.

It was a handkerchief stitched terribly, with a lopsided sun, and his name beside a bird that may or may not have been a pigeon.

"Don't laugh, jerk!" she huffed, cheeks burning.

"It's the thought that counts."

Luke held it to his chest dramatically.

"I'll treasure it forever. I, Luke of House Valryn, swear on this wonky piece of cloth and my very questionable honor… to protect you with my life."

"Dramatic Luke," Evelyne muttered, smiling for the first time all day.

He stood and offered her his hand.

"Come on, your highness. Let me walk you back."

As he escorted her to her chambers, she felt something tighten in her chest.

Luke won't die; she told herself again.

He can't. She paused at her door and whispered,

"Thank you."

He tapped her head gently.

"Always." Then he turned and left.

From her balcony, she watched the stars fade. A raven landed on the railing, staring into her like it knew everything she feared.

She closed her eyes.

And braced herself for dawn.

A whisper dragged her from sleep.

"Evelyne…"

She sat up.

"Evelyne…"

The voice wasn't in her ears it was in her bones.

She stepped into the hallway, barefoot, in her nightgown, drawn like a thread on a needle.

No guards. No maids. Just the sound of her name echoing through the empty corridors.

Down the staircase.

Through the cold garden.

Toward the old sycamore.

She didn't know why her feet took her there, until she saw it.

Her breath left her.

The wind moved gently.

The branches creaked.

And there he was.

Luke.

Hung from the highest limb, a rope around his neck, his body limp and swaying like a broken promise.

In his hand

The handkerchief.

Her gift.

stained.

With blood.

Luke's heart was wrapped inside it.

Evelyne didn't scream. Didn't collapse. Didn't cry.

She stepped closer, hand shaking as she reached out.

"Luke....?"