The courtyard was quiet when Evelyn found him.
Alexander stood near the edge of the western balcony, overlooking the training fields, his coat draped over one shoulder. The sunlight cut clean lines across his face, casting half of it in gold and the other in cool shadow.
She didn't announce herself.
She didn't need to.
"You look like you're waiting for something," Evelyn said softly.
He turned. "I was."
There was something different in his expression today—more stillness than storm. Less armor.
She joined him at the railing. For a long time, they didn't speak. The breeze tugged gently at her hair.
"I confronted Isabella," she said at last.
"I know," he said. "I heard."
She smiled faintly. "You always hear everything, don't you?"
His gaze slid toward her. "Not everything. Not what you're feeling. Not why your hands are trembling even now."
She stilled.
"I'm not scared of her anymore," Evelyn said.
"I know."
"It's what comes next that's harder."
He watched her carefully. "You don't have to do it alone."
She glanced up at him. "You say that like I can trust you."
He didn't flinch. "You already do."
There was no smugness in the words—just truth.
She looked at him then. Really looked.
The way his eyes softened just for her. The way he stood slightly too close. The way he noticed the smallest things about her without trying.
And the way her heart betrayed her every time he did.
"I shouldn't," she murmured.
"I know," he said again. This time, his voice was lower. Rougher.
For a moment, neither of them breathed.
Then Alexander did something he rarely did.
He reached out.
Fingers brushed hers—light, tentative, but enough to make the air catch fire between them.
But just as quickly, a sound broke the moment.
Footsteps. Voices. The illusion of privacy shattered.
He stepped back. She let him.
But something had changed.
Not spoken aloud.
Not acted upon.
But almost.