Bound by fire, Claimed by love

As Damian led her away from the corridor where Alistair had stood, Evelyn's thoughts churned. Lady Celeste and Duke Graves have much to discuss? What kind of relationship did they have? And why did Alistair speak as if he knew more about her family's downfall?

She wanted to ask Damian. The words lingered on the tip of her tongue.

How well do you know him?

What business does your mother have with him?

But she hesitated.

Because a part of her feared the answer.

Instead, she let the question die in her throat and allowed Damian to guide her outside, where the sun cast a golden glow over the gardens.

"Come with me," he said, his voice softer now, free of the coldness he had shown Alistair. "You need a distraction."

And so she let herself be distracted.

They walked hand in hand through the vast estate grounds, pausing by the greenhouse where delicate glass panes reflected the warm light of late afternoon.

At one point, Damian pulled her onto a stone bench beneath a blooming willow tree. "Stay still," he murmured, reaching up to tuck a small white flower behind her ear.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Is this a habit of yours?"

He smirked. "Only for you."

His fingertips brushed against her cheek, lingering just a moment too long. Evelyn felt her heartbeat quicken, and for a while, she allowed herself to drown in his presence—his warmth, his quiet laughter, the way he leaned in as if he never wanted to be apart from her.

For a few hours, she let herself forget about Alistair's words.

For a few hours, she let herself believe that everything was fine.

But as the sun dipped below the horizon and the evening breeze sent a chill through the air, Evelyn's unease returned.

She didn't know why.

She didn't know how.

But something deep in her chest whispered that this peace wouldn't last.

That something was coming.

And it would change everything.