"Get down from the palanquin," the matchmaker chirped.
Evelynn pushed the curtain aside and stepped into cold light. She pulled the red veil away and threw it at the matchmaker's face.
"Keep your hands off me," Evelynn said. Her voice was steady. The matchmaker squealed and scrambled back, the veil hiding half her face.
"Madam, please—" the matchmaker begged, fingers fumbling through silk. "The Regent—"
"Where is he?" Evelynn asked, looking past the matchmaker into the courtyard.
"Your Grace," a guard said, stepping forward with stiffness. He kept his head lowered. "The Regent has left the ceremony. He will not attend."
A man in a black cloak moved through the columns, slow and unreadable. He passed with no bow. Evelynn saw the Regent's profile for a heartbeat: no sign of ceremony, no staff raised, only a cold, flat face that did not stop.
"You best stay in my house and behave," the Regent said as he walked by. His words were casual. They landed like a command.
Evelynn smiled without humor. "Is that a welcome?" she asked.
The Regent did not turn. He nodded once and walked on. Guards behind him folded their cloaks and tightened their ranks. The courtyard thrummed with obedient silence.
"Is that all?" the matchmaker whispered. Her cheeks were wet. "The vows, the—"
"Keep the veil," Evelynn said. She picked it up and let it fall back into the matchmaker's lap. Silk smothered the woman's mouth. Servants around them looked away.
"You
