She stirred in her sleep.
She could hear their cries.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she clutched the sheets, breath shallow, chest heaving. She didn't understand what was happening—why their voices haunted her dreams.
Then she jerked awake, gasping for air.
It had been a week since the letter arrived. A letter sealed with the king's crest.
She had deliberately waited. A whole week—just to make a point. To show she wasn't desperate to meet with royalty. And truth be told, she was cautious. Very cautious.
Even now, as she prepared for the day and sat inside the carriage, her mind stayed alert. Her eyes scanned everything, every flicker of movement along the road.
She was troubled.
Why did the king want to see her?
Her, of all people?
She was an outlaw. The king feared her—though he'd never admit it aloud.
His pride wouldn't allow it.
Teresa had offered to drive the carriage, while Lilian posed as her maidservant, both under the guise of protection in case of danger.
But Evangeline knew the truth. They were eager. Curious.
Eager to see a real castle.
And curious—no, excited—to catch a glimpse of the infamous prince who lived within its walls.
Beatrice used to talk about him like he was a celestial being who'd fallen straight from the heavens.
Evangeline smiled faintly, remembering the story.
Beatrice had once climbed a tree just to spy on him during his rare visit to the village… and nearly fallen out when he turned and looked her way.
He was that beautiful.
But Evangeline didn't find Caucasian men particularly attractive. She was no virgin, and she liked her men rough—dominant, primal.
Gentleness bored her.
And today, she wasn't feeling curious or romantic.
In fact, her hand never strayed far from the hilt of her blade, fingers ready to draw at the first sign of trouble.
---
Inside the palace, King Hansel paced like a caged lion, restless, agitated.
Lord Charles sat calmly, sipping tea.
"Has she no manners?" the king snapped. "Keeping me waiting for a whole week?"
"She's an outlaw," Charles drawled, raising an eyebrow.
"Nobody gives a hoot what she is!" the king snapped again.
"Actually, brother… everyone does. So relax. You're working yourself up for nothing," Charles replied, far too casually for Hansel's liking.
"It's my son, Charles!" the king exploded. "He's getting out of hand—bringing in all those blasted prostitutes into my palace!"
He ran a hand through his beard, fuming.
"And God! He's no gentleman, either. Sends them off like they're nothing but skunks."
"I'm sorry, brother," King Hansel muttered, finally lowering himself into a chair. "I'm just tired of this entire charade... and I despise that miserable slut of a mistress he keeps."
A soft knock followed by the creak of the door interrupted them. A guard stepped inside and bowed.
"My lord, Lady Belle Angélique has arrived."
King Hansel's face lit up with a smile. "Tell her we'll be with her shortly. Entertain her in the meantime."
The guard bowed again and exited.
"Shall we?" Lord Charles gestured, and both men stood to prepare for the meeting.
---
Evangeline wasn't very impressed by the palace.
It was grand, no doubt—lavish in every detail, with the latest in luxury and royal design—but it meant little to her.
To Lilian and Teresa, though, it was something out of a fairytale.
They gazed around in awe, whispering and giggling like children.
Evangeline's sharp eyes, however, trailed every passing guard, scanning for danger, for any slight movement that might hint at a threat.
Oh, to be young… and slightly naïve.
Two handsomely dressed men approached, both appearing to be in their fifties. They looked healthy, noble—and awfully alike, with just a hint of wrinkles softening their stern expressions.
Evangeline hesitated as they drew closer, clearly unsure which of them was the king… or perhaps the prince.
Maybe the prince is just an old man, she mused with a silent chuckle.
They gave polite bows, trying to gauge her status in return.
She didn't bow. Instead, she straightened her spine and said coolly,
"Your Highness, you requested to see me. Well—here I am."