Evelyn didn't sleep.
Not after hearing them.
Alexander's voice—tight, controlled. Caelan's—cool and edged with something more than rivalry.
She'd stood there longer than she should have, frozen by the quiet weight of words not meant for her ears. And yet, none of them surprised her.
Except maybe the silence.
Especially Alexander's.
By the time dawn touched the edge of the sky, Evelyn had made her decision.
She found him by the training yard, already awake, sword in hand, breath curling in the chill.
"You don't sleep, do you?" she said.
He stopped mid-swing, turning toward her. "Evelyn."
There was no one else around.
"Did you mean it?" she asked, voice steady. "That I'm not yours to lose?"
His gaze darkened. "You heard."
She nodded once.
He lowered the blade. "I meant what I said. You're not an object to be won."
"I'm not," she agreed. "But I'm not blind either. You feel something. You just won't admit it."
The tension between them stretched, a taut string pulled to its limit.
"I'm trying to protect you," he said quietly.
"From what? The truth?"
"From me," he said. "From what it would mean to choose me."
She stepped closer. "You already left once. You're leaving again. Why bother protecting me if all you'll do is walk away?"
He flinched—barely—but she saw it.
"You think if you keep me at a distance, it'll hurt less?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
"I'm not asking you to claim me," she said. "I'm asking you not to lie to yourself."
His hands slowly curled around the hilt of the sword, knuckles white.
"Caelan is brave enough to tell me how he feels," she added softly. "Even if I don't know what I want yet... at least he's not hiding."
Alexander's eyes lifted to hers. The storm in them had always been quiet—but now it rumbled.
"I'm not him," he said.
"No," she said. "You're not."
And she turned and walked away.
Far above, hidden behind the library's balcony, Isabella watched it all.
A slow smile curved her lips.
Because it wasn't just Alexander losing control now.
It was Evelyn, too.