Chapter 114

Evelyn

The announcement came at midday.

I had been surprised when it arrived. Admittedly, I had thought my father would hold off on such an event, but I’d also heard him insisting to other council members that the people needed a break, a relief. And I couldn’t exactly argue with that.

It came delivered by heralds through the corridors of the palace in a crisp invitation sealed with the royal sigil my father had pressed into the wax. I had accepted it with a scoff, like I might have been able to reject it or not go. As the princess, my presence was practically a requirement.

I felt as though even dismissing the letter itself would be ill-advised. So I opened it all the same and read its contents: There was going to be a ball to celebrate the end of the war.

The word made me raise a brow. Celebrate? With Scott still lurking in the shadows, unpunished and dangerous, it seemed a little soon to be announcing that everything was over. There were still enemies to conquer.

Emma’s body was barely cold, and already the court wanted to drape themselves in finery and drink champagne as if nothing had happened. The hypocrisy was suffocating.

But I had no choice. Even if I disagreed with it, I was the princess, and princesses didn’t get the luxury of protesting formal events like this. Perhaps, in truth, these things were purely for the others, people who were not meant to worry about such matters in the first place. A ball was a good distraction to boost morale while me and the other council members continued to be plagued by these concerns.

It was my duty to stand at my father’s side, to smile before the court, and to be the gleaming face of victory, even when the truth was anything but victorious. And so I would. I would do what was expected of me to the best of my abilities, as I always did.

I was still mulling over my feelings about the upcoming ball when Chris found me in my office that evening. He had stuffed his hands in his pockets and donned a sheepish grin, but there was something guarded in his eyes.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said plainly, leaning against the edge of my office’s doorframe. “Or maybe you’ve just been avoiding everyone.”

He sounded so hopeful proposing this possibility.

“I’ve been busy,” I replied, though even to my own ears, the words sounded hollow. But it wasn’t a lie. The medical wing restructuring had occupied a lot of my time. And the rest of my hours were filled with thoughts I needed to tediously sort through.

Thoughts of Logan.

Chris studied me for a moment. Then, lowering his voice, he said, “I see you heard the news.” He was looking at the invitation I’d set aside.

I lifted the parchment and smiled tightly. “A celebration,” I said. “As if it is all over.”

“You deserve a night to acknowledge all that you’ve accomplished, at least,” he allowed.

“You’re being too generous,” I said. “This event will only remind me of everything I lost during the war.”

Chris was quiet for a moment before he asked, softly, “Where do things stand between you and Logan?”

Chris had always been straightforward, but I hadn’t expected such bluntness now. Still, I forced myself to answer honestly, if only because I was tired of half-truths.

“It’s complicated,” I admitted. “We… reconnected recently, and I can’t deny what I feel. But everything is tangled. Emma, Scott, the war… It’s not all just about us. It never has been. Maybe when things are less chaotic, we can see how things pan out.”

Chris’s expression shifted slightly, though whether it was disappointment or something else, I couldn’t quite tell. “I see.”

I knew what he was getting at, and all at once, I was reminded of Logan’s guarded reaction in the medical wing when Chris had walked in. He had been defensive and dismissive. I’d told him that Chris knew his place, but perhaps I had spoken too soon.

“Chris…” I began, but he cut me off with a small shake of his head.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I just wanted to ask. I wanted to test the waters and see… Well, see if you had a date to the ball.”

His cheeks colored at the proposition. He was so boyishly charming, I couldn’t help but feel my heart melt for him. But it was not in a way that signaled attraction. It was something akin to pity, instead. Because I couldn’t love him back. I could barely love anyone just then. And accepting his invitation might put the wrong ideas in his head.

He was giving me an out, a chance to align myself with someone safe, someone who wasn’t tangled in destiny and betrayal and wounds that never fully healed. But even still, I couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “But I think it would be best for everyone if I went to this alone. I need time, Chris. Just because Logan has been set on simmer doesn’t mean I’m ready to turn my attention toward someone else.”

His shoulders tensed a fraction, the only sign of his disappointment. He avoided meeting my eyes as he spoke again. “I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to go alone if you weren’t planning to go with Logan. Can’t blame a guy for trying, I suppose.” His grin was tight, sad. “Just… save me a dance, alright?”

If only I felt even a fraction of what I felt for Logan for this man. I knew that Chris would be able to treat me well, the way I deserved. And there was no complicated past with him that tied up my thoughts in knots.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t feel what I needed to with him, and going along with it all just for the sake of it would be denying myself the truth.

So I watched him leave. And dread pooled in my stomach at the thought of hurting his feelings, about seeing him at the dance, and knowing that he would have made the ideal date if only I had been open to it.

He left me alone in my office, the silence pressing in heavier than before. I stood, knowing that I couldn’t bear to be in that stifling room any longer. As I left, I tossed the invitation in the wastebasket by the door.

When I returned to the solitude of my chambers, I strode over to the opposite side of the room and thrust open the doors of my wardrobe. I stood before its vast array of options, surveying all that was available to me. Silks and satins spilled from the racks, shimmering under the lantern light. Dresses hung in every shade imaginable—crimson, midnight, silver, emerald, cerulean, gold—each one designed to command attention. My fingers trailed over the fabrics, pausing here and there as I considered not just what to wear, but what message to send.

This wasn’t just about attending a ball. All eyes would be on me after all that had occurred since the start of the war. I had become somewhat of a focal point for the war itself, unintentionally making myself into someone that the attendees would undoubtedly strain to pay attention to.

With my appearance, I would be reminding everyone in that hall who I was and all that I had accomplished, as Chris had suggested. And perhaps it would be a good opportunity to remind Logan, too.

But which gown would do it best? I stood there, staring into the endless choices, my heart restless and my thoughts loud until my focus landed on a silky red slip of a dress I had never had the opportunity to wear before. It was perfect.

Tomorrow night, I planned to step into that ballroom and own it. And everyone would get the message I intended to send with this little strip of fabric.