Evelyn’s POV
The morning came too soon. Evelyn stood in her tiny apartment, staring at the half-packed suitcase on her bed. The walls around her looked bare now, stripped of the photos, the second-hand books, the tiny comforts that had made the place hers.
Carmen rushed in and out like a drill sergeant, shoving folded clothes into the suitcase. “You’re not packing enough. Damian Blackwood probably expects you to wear gowns at breakfast or something.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes, though her chest felt tight. “I’m not dressing up for him.”
“You’re not dressing for him,” Carmen corrected, throwing a knitted sweater on top of the pile. “You’re dressing for survival. You need armor in that place, Evie. Clothes are armor.”
Evelyn managed to give a thin smile. “I don’t think even a knight’s armo
