The banquet hall glittered.
Golden chandeliers hung like stars from vaulted ceilings, casting soft light over polished marble and shimmering gowns. The Academy had spared no expense for the Spring Honor Banquet—a night of celebration, diplomacy, and carefully veiled rivalries.
Evelyn stood near the back entrance, her hands clasped in front of her pale blue gown. The fabric hugged her waist before spilling into soft waves, delicate embroidery catching the candlelight. She looked… calm. Beautiful. Unbothered.
But beneath her stillness, her mind was anything but quiet.
Across the hall, Isabella twirled in the center of the floor, laughing beside a young noble from a neighboring region. Her smile was radiant, her dress a striking red that shimmered like blood and rubies.
She hadn't seen Evelyn yet. Good.
Caelan approached her with two glasses of chilled fruit wine, offering one without a word.
"You clean up well," he said with a small smile.
Evelyn glanced at him, then let her eyes scan the room. "It's strange."
"What is?"
"How people dance at the edge of a knife and call it celebration."
He tilted his head. "Are you talking about Isabella or yourself?"
She didn't answer.
Just then, the doors opened again, and a hush swept through the room.
Alexander wasn't supposed to be here.
And yet there he stood.
Dressed in black formalwear that framed his tall form with severe, regal lines, his arrival sent whispers rippling through the crowd like wind through grass.
Evelyn's heart skipped.
He hadn't announced his return. He wasn't even looking for her.
He simply stood at the edge of the banquet, gaze unreadable as he scanned the room. But the moment his eyes found her—
Everything else faded.
Isabella turned. Saw him. Saw Evelyn. And froze.
Her grip on her wineglass tightened just enough to crack it.
Alexander didn't move toward either of them.
Instead, he made his way toward the Headmaster, speaking quietly. Formal. Controlled. But his gaze kept drifting back to Evelyn, and hers to him.
Caelan sighed beside her. "So much for giving you space."
Evelyn didn't reply. She couldn't. Because the moment Isabella began walking toward her, her entire body shifted—no longer unsure.
Ready.
Isabella's heels clicked softly as she came to a stop just two steps away. Her smile was sharp and too sweet.
"Well. I wasn't expecting you to show up dressed like you actually belong here."
Evelyn didn't flinch. "And yet here I am."
"Didn't think you'd come after what happened," Isabella continued. "Must be easier when someone's always stepping in to clean up your mess."
Evelyn tilted her head. "You're right. But then again, I always preferred cleaning my messes myself. Shall we start with yours?"
That made Isabella blink.
Just once.
Evelyn stepped forward, voice quieter but edged in steel. "You think I don't know what you've been doing? Leaving messages. Ripping pieces of my life apart just to prove I don't belong. But you've made one mistake, Isabella."
"And what's that?" Isabella asked, voice still sugary.
"I'm not scared of you anymore."
Before Isabella could answer, the Headmaster raised a hand at the front of the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen—may I have your attention."
The moment shattered.
Everyone turned. Including Alexander.
But Evelyn and Isabella didn't look away from each other.
Not yet.
Not now.
Something had changed—and the next move wasn't Isabella's to make.