The next morning, Evelyn's arms screamed for mercy. She woke up and tried to lift them. They didn't move. She groaned. "Oh, wonderful. I've become a statue. Someone please bury me with tea and pastries."
But there was no time for pity. The Duke had ordered another morning practice.
She dragged herself to the training yard. The sunrise painted the sky soft gold, birds sang cheerfully, and Evelyn hated all of them equally. The Duke was already there, standing tall and calm with a sword in his hand.
"Good morning, Guard Ash," he said without turning.
"Good morning, Your Grace," she answered. "Or… it will be once I learn how to move again."
He glanced at her, eyes cool but amused. "You are improving. You no longer trip every third step."
"Progress," she said proudly.
He stepped closer. "Now show me your stance."
She lifted her sword. He adjusted her elbow, her shoulders, her wrists, every touch precise and brief but enough to make her forget how to breathe.
"You're holding it too tightly," he said. "Your movements must flow, not fight."
"I'm flowing," she said through gritted teeth. "Mostly with pain."
He chuckled quietly, which only made her try harder.
They practiced for an hour. Evelyn almost fell twice but caught herself both times. By the end, she was covered in sweat and satisfaction.
The Duke handed her a towel. "Better," he said simply.
That one word made her grin like an idiot. "Really? You think so?"
His lips curved slightly. "You are loud, clumsy, and undisciplined. But yes. Better."
She decided to take that as the highest compliment of her life.
Mrs. Hargreaves, the head butler, arrived just then, holding a tray of tea like a commander holding a sword.
"Your Grace," she said, "the Duchess of Hawthorne's tea gathering is this afternoon. I suggest you bring your new guard for proper etiquette training."
Evelyn choked. "Tea party? As in… nobles, lace, and gossip?"
The butler gave her a hard look. "Yes. Try not to stab the conversation."
"I'll do my best."
By noon, Evelyn had changed into a fresh uniform, cleaned her boots, and checked her fake mustache five times. It still itched like betrayal.
She followed the Duke to the carriage. He looked effortlessly elegant, of course. Even the horses seemed to respect him.
Inside the carriage, he read some reports while she tried to sit like a respectable man instead of a nervous mess.
"Are tea parties usually dangerous?" she asked after five minutes of silence.
He didn't look up. "Only if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person."
"Good," she said cheerfully. "I say the wrong thing to everyone. It'll be consistent."
His mouth twitched like he was hiding a smile.
The Duchess's mansion was enormous and filled with flowers that smelled too expensive. The ballroom sparkled with sunlight and the sound of polite laughter.
Evelyn followed one step behind the Duke. Her job was simple, it's to watch, stay quiet, and don't faint.
The Duchess greeted them with the warmest smile money could buy. "Your Grace, what a pleasure! And your new guard, how charming."
Evelyn bowed awkwardly. "An honor, ma'am. I am… guarding."
The Duchess blinked. "How reassuring."
The room filled with nobles dressed in pastel silks, all sipping tea and pretending not to gossip. Evelyn stood near the wall, pretending to look serious while secretly scanning the dessert table.
A waiter walked by with a tray of macarons. She wanted one so badly her soul almost left her body.
Just as she reached for one, someone tapped her shoulder.
It was Lady Seraphina Greer, the court inventor and the only noblewoman who didn't act like she'd been dipped in sugar. She wore spectacles, had ink on her fingers, and always looked halfway between brilliance and disaster.
"Evelyn," Seraphina whispered. "How's the new job?"
"Mostly pain and confusion. How's science?"
"Exploding things. So, wonderful."
Seraphina slipped her a small brass whistle. "In case you get into trouble. Two short blows for the Duke, three for me. And don't use it near horses."
"Why not?"
"They panic. You'll understand if you ever see it."
Evelyn tucked it into her belt. "Noted. I'll avoid horse chaos today."
The Duchess clapped her hands and announced, "Let us all enjoy the garden! The roses are in perfect bloom."
Everyone moved outside in elegant waves. Evelyn followed the Duke, scanning the crowd for danger. The sunlight glowed on the petals, and the scent of flowers mixed with expensive perfume.
She turned too quickly, caught her boot on a chair, and nearly sent it flying. She grabbed it just in time. The nearest noble gasped.
Evelyn smiled awkwardly. "Chair secured, ma'am. No casualties."
The Duke gave her a single raised eyebrow from across the garden. She pretended to be very busy guarding a bush.
While the nobles admired roses, Evelyn noticed two men standing apart, whispering. Their clothes marked them as ministry officials. She pretended to fix her sleeve and listened.
"Tonight, north gate," one said quietly. "The shipment must leave before the Duke returns."
Her stomach tightened. She looked toward the Duke. He was talking politely to the Duchess, but she could tell from the faint shift in his eyes that he had noticed her noticing something.
He didn't move or speak. Just one slow blink. A signal.
She gave the slightest nod.
A servant passed nearby with a tray of teacups. Evelyn stepped aside to make room but her boot slipped on the stone. The tray tilted. Cups flew. Time froze.
She lunged and caught the tray with both hands. Tea sloshed but not a drop spilled.
The servant stared at her like she had performed a miracle. The Duke's gaze flicked toward her, steady and proud.
Evelyn smiled faintly. "Teamwork."
The servant nodded in awe.
The party ended with gifts of flowers. Each guest chose a bloom from the garden. Evelyn stayed in the back, figuring she had already done enough damage to nature for one day.
The Duke chose a white camellia. The Duchess smiled when he handed it to her, but Evelyn noticed something subtle. His eyes weren't on the Duchess. They were somewhere else. Just for a second.
The carriage ride back was quiet. The Duke stared out the window, thoughtful. Evelyn sat across from him, pretending to count trees.
Finally, she cleared her throat. "If one were to, purely by accident, hear people discussing secret shipments at the north gate tonight… what should one do?"
He looked at her slowly. "One should tell their commanding officer."
"And if one wanted to help instead?"
He held her gaze for a long moment. "Then one should wear a cloak, move quietly, and never face danger alone."
Her heart fluttered. "Does that mean I'm allowed to go?"
"I didn't say that," he replied. "But if you do, I will already be there."
Back at the mansion, Evelyn's nerves buzzed like fireflies. She excused herself early and went straight to her room.
She unfolded the scrap of paper she had taken from the garden path earlier. Scribbled numbers. A time. A strange mark shaped like a hawk. The word "harbor."
Her heart pounded. Something was happening tonight.
She packed her cloak, sword, and whistle. Then she looked in the mirror. The fake mustache looked slightly crooked but determined.
"You're about to do something stupid again," she told her reflection.
Her reflection stared back with the same mix of fear and excitement.
"Good," she said softly. "At least you're consistent."
Midnight came quietly.
Evelyn slipped through the dark halls of the mansion, her boots soft against the floor. The moon hung low outside, casting silver over everything.
Before stepping into the night, she whispered one last promise to herself.
"No falling. No bleeding. And no fainting if the Duke catches me."
Then she opened the door and disappeared into the moonlight, ready for whatever waited at the north gate.