The coin gleamed in her hand, warm from the Captain's palm but cold in every other way. Edeana stared at it, unmoving, the weight of it settling in her chest more than her fingers.
A single gold sovereign.
The inn's murmur fell into silence behind her, though she barely noticed. Her eyes remained on the coin, her mind struggling to reconcile the absurdity of what it implied.
It couldn't be… He didn't think—
She blinked, breath catching. No. He did.
She didn't know whether to feel insulted or simply stunned that the Captain of the Royal Guard had, in a single gesture, dismissed her as a prostitute—one paid and discarded before the sun could rise too high. Her heart thudded with quiet fury. She opened her mouth to respond—
But before a single word could escape, Devlin stepped forward.
His voice was composed, but carried a clarity that sliced through the stillness. "Let this be the first and only time you—or anyone—dares to show such blatant disrespect toward my wife," he said, his gaze fixed on Knightley. "Especially since she is to be the Queen of Eldenhart one day."
The Captain paled.
"You will do well to remember that in the future," Devlin continued, coolly. "We are in a most delicate position right now; this slight will be forgiven by me. But I suggest you do everything in your power for the remainder of your days to gain her forgiveness."
Knightley stood frozen, his mouth slightly ajar. For a moment, the man who had faced down rebel pikes and border skirmishes seemed entirely undone.
He spluttered. Then straightened, eyes wide with dawning horror. "Sire… I—Of course. Your Highness." He turned to Edeana, bowed stiffly, and murmured, "Forgive me, Your Highness. My actions were… nothing but a momentary lapse in judgement."
Edeana said nothing—not because she hadn't the words, but because she wasn't sure what expression would emerge—gratitude, resentment, triumph, or all three. She merely inclined her head, composed and silent, and allowed herself to be led from the inn.
The sun had risen fully now, casting a soft gold over the rooftops. As they crossed the muddy courtyard toward the stables, the weight of onlookers' gazes pressed on her back. The rumors, it seemed, were already spreading.
Once her mare was saddled and she'd mounted, she turned her eyes toward Devlin. He was speaking quietly with a scout by the treeline, his expression unreadable.
But she knew.
He had meant every word.
He hadn't defended her to prove a point or protect appearances. He had done so because he believed in her place at his side. And in that moment, something settled in her—a quiet awe, yes—but also the first hint of certainty.
They rode hard through the hills, their pace careful but steady. The route Captain Knightley had chosen weaved through narrow woodland paths and quiet river crossings, avoiding the main roads. By mid-afternoon, the ache in her legs had returned but Edeana refused to let her discomfort be known lest she be viewed as weak. As dusk drew its long shadows across the earth, the hustle of merchants and beautifully crafted buildings of Wendlyn came into view.
Wendlyn was larger than most towns in Eldenhart—more than just a fortified market clinging to the edge of the old trade road. Over the years, it had grown into a vital artery of commerce, becoming a key supplier to the capital's ever-hungry heart. Now, it offered something even more essential for the journey ahead: a carriage.
Devlin drew his horse alongside Edeana's as they neared the town's outer gate. "We will not be staying the night," he said quietly. "I understand you must be tired but I'd like not to delay our arrival to the palace any longer."
Edeana nodded, though her weariness pulled at her limbs like a weight. She wasn't about to argue—after all, the urgency was clear, and the capital awaited them. Yet, as the sky deepened into twilight, a thought gnawed at her.
"Devlin," she said, her voice low enough to keep it between them, "don't you think it's more dangerous to travel at night, especially with so many of us riding together?" Her gaze flicked toward the cluster of royal guards, their armour glinting in the dimming light as they rode in tight formation behind them. "All these soldiers, all of us traveling together… we'll be an easy target. We'll stand out in the darkness, even more so than we would in the daylight."
He allowed himself a faint, knowing smile. "Ah, my dear, that is precisely why your most brilliant husband has devised a plan that is nothing short of ingenious."
The town square was still bustling as night fell, lanterns casting warm pools of light over cobbled stones. Market stalls were shuttering for the night, and tavern music drifted faintly from the northern quarter. At an unassuming carriage house near the far gate, Knightley negotiated the purchase of three traveling coaches under a false name.
Edeana stood beside Devlin, watching the exchange, though her thoughts were far from the business at hand. The day's events continued to churn in her mind, particularly the look of surprise and horror on Knightley's face when Devlin had spoken of her future as Queen. She had held her silence during the entire confrontation—not out of lack of words, but because she hadn't known what to say.
The Captain had assumed so much about her, so easily. He had looked at her and seen a woman, yes, but one who was easily dismissed—a fleeting, disposable thing. But that assumption would be a small thorn compared to what she might face in the capital. She could already hear the whispers, the judgment in the eyes of the courtiers, the politicians, the nobles. They would all look at her the same way Knightley had, only with more subtlety and perhaps more venom.
And yet… as much as the thought unsettled her, she knew she couldn't let it control her. She would not be defined by others' assumptions. If not for her sake, then for Devlin's.
She glanced sideways at her husband. His expression remained unreadable, but she could sense the tension in him, too. They were walking into a world where nothing could be taken for granted, where her very presence beside him could raise as many questions as answers.
"You're unusually quiet," he remarked, casting a sidelong glance at her, his voice low. "Might I tempt you to share a few of your thoughts with me?"
She met his gaze, her expression thoughtful. "I'm merely thinking about what is to come next. About how the aristocracy will see me."
Devlin's lips quirked faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let them think what they will. The people in the capital will not have the chance to assume anything—not with me at your side."
Edeana frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "And how will you stop them from assuming just like Captain Knightley did this morning?"
He was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words. "You may not have noticed, but I left the capital unmarried—despite my position. I was very much an eligible bachelor. Not a rake, no, but not a saint either. I had a mistress for a time, until recently, but I've ended that chapter of my life. The thing is, Edeana," he said, pausing to let the words settle between them, "I'm used to people's assumptions. I've lived my whole life with them. But the capital is a place where reputation is everything. And they won't have the chance to make assumptions about you—not when we return and introduce you as my wife."
She stared at him, her mind racing. He had never mentioned his past in this way—had never been so open. The fact that he'd kept a mistress, and that this had somehow become common knowledge, was a bitter pill to swallow. But then, she supposed, this was the cost of being seen, of being part of a world where people observed every move. She hadn't known much about him, rather, she hadn't known much beyond Leighton.
"And Knightley?" she asked carefully, her voice steady.
He met her gaze without hesitation. "He's trained to handle matters discreetly. One does not simply become the Captain of the Royal Guard without acquiring certain skills."
Edeana nodded, absorbing his words. She didn't know how she felt about it—his past, the mistress, the implications—but she understood now why his defense of her in the inn had been so absolute. The Captain had made a misstep, and Devlin had been swift to correct it, protecting her feelings while declaring her status in the same breath.
Her thoughts returned to their current predicament. "What happens now?" she asked. "I mean… we're not even sure how much danger we're in. The assassin, the rumors, the secrecy—what comes next?"
Devlin was quiet for a moment, his eyes distant. "The assassin is still a concern. The danger is real, but it's not immediate. Right now, our best option is to keep moving, stick to the plan until we reach the palace. We'll be careful. We'll make sure we're not followed, and we'll take it one day at a time."
Edeana let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "And when we arrive at the palace? What then?"
He turned his gaze back to her, his expression softening. "Do not fret, we'll face the capital, the court, and anything they have to throw at us. But we do it together. You and I."
His words settled in her chest, anchoring her in a way that only his presence seemed capable of. It was a curious thing, considering they had been nothing more than strangers only days ago.
As they slipped into the warmth of the tavern for their evening meal, Edeana couldn't help but reflect. She should have been more mindful when she wished to amount to something more than just the bastard's child of the Duke of North Ulbria and Kensingham.