I found him in the garden, just before dawn — cloaked in black, kneeling by the fountain where he once promised he’d “change for me.”

He didn’t notice me at first, too focused on the map he was marking — palace guards, gate schedules… the Duke’s name circled in red.

“Ravel,” I said.

His shoulders stiffened. Slowly, he stood, eyes shadowed under the moonlight.

“You said you were done,” I whispered. “You swore the last blood would be the last.”

“I lied,” he said simply.

My throat tightened. “I loved you even when the empire hated you. I stayed through exile, curses, assassins…”

“I never asked you to.”

Silence.

Then he reached for his gloves.

“Go back inside, My Lady.”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t beg.

But somehow, the calm in his voice hurt more than any storm he could’ve thrown.