Hiding My Twin Heirs from the Ruthless Prince

CHAPTER 35

POV: Evangeline

Dinner felt almost normal. For the first time in weeks, the palace seemed to exhale. Servants moved quietly around the hall, refilling goblets, placing warm dishes on the long oak table. The smell of roasted herbs drifted through the air, blending with soft laughter as our guests settled into their seats. Maximilian and Georgina sat across from me, their twin daughters between them, whispering excitedly about everything and nothing. Alexandro occupied the spot beside Marc and Adrian, who practically glowed under his attention.

Sebastian sat at the head of the table, posture straight, expression unreadable. His plate was untouched. He stared at it as if it were another duty he did not have the strength to face. Still, his presence alone seemed to anchor the hall, even if he barely spoke.

I lifted my goblet, hoping wine might ease the tension sitting like a stone beneath my ribs. “The meal is wonderful tonight,” I said, trying to jumpstart conversation.

“It truly is,” Georgina agreed warmly. “Your cooks always find ways to surprise me.”

Maximilian leaned in, grinning. “That’s because they know you eat like a soldier in disguise.”

“I do not,” she protested.

“You do,” he and I said together.

She gasped, hand to heart, then laughed—an honest, ringing sound that lightened my mood instantly.

Marc tugged at Alexandro’s sleeve. “Uncle Alex, did you see the practice yard? Adrian says he can beat me in a footrace now.”

Alexandro raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that so?”

Adrian straightened proudly. “I can! I’ve been practicing every morning.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “He trips at least twice.”

“That’s part of practicing,” Adrian argued.

Alexandro chuckled, resting a reassuring hand on each of their backs. “Then perhaps tomorrow we shall all see who truly runs the fastest.”

The boys lit up like lanterns. I felt something soften in me watching them. During Alexandro’s short time here, they hadn’t fought once—not even a muttered insult. They adored him, listened to him, tried to impress him. Being with him made them feel seen. Safe.

I glanced at Sebastian. He continued to stare at his untouched food, jaw tight, fingers tapping silently against the table.

“Will you eat?” I murmured gently.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied without looking at me.

“You need your strength.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The edge in his tone stung, but I nodded, letting the conversation around us fill the space he left empty.

Viviana leaned forward eagerly. “Queen Evangeline, do you think the garden spirits come out at night?”

Elena nodded with equal excitement. “Papa said he heard one last summer.”

Maximilian winced. “I said I heard something. Not necessarily a spirit.”

Georgina patted his arm. “You ran like it was a spirit.”

“I did not—”

“You absolutely did,” she insisted.

Everyone at the table laughed except Sebastian. He gave a small, polite smile that did not reach his eyes.

For a moment I let myself simply sit in the warmth—the conversations, the children’s joy, the comfort of having people I loved gathered around me. It felt like a rare gift. One I desperately wanted to protect.

Marc suddenly looked up at me. “Mama, may Uncle Alex stay forever?”

“He has his own duties,” I said gently. “But he will stay for some time.”

Alexandro smiled at me knowingly. “Long enough.”

Adrian leaned against him. “Good. Then Marc can’t annoy me when you’re here.”

Marc pushed his shoulder lightly. “I do not annoy—”

“Boys,” I warned.

They quieted immediately, but still smiled at each other.

“See?” Georgina whispered. “Harmony.”

“Yes,” I whispered back. “For now.”

And for a few breaths, everything was peaceful. The kind of peaceful that felt delicate, like spun glass—beautiful, but one wrong touch could shatter it.

Then—

CRASH.

The main doors exploded inward, slamming against the stone walls with a sound so violent the chandeliers trembled. Goblets tipped. Children gasped. Servants shrank back and dropped whatever they carried.

Every adult at the table was on their feet instantly.

Sebastian’s chair scraped sharply as he stood, drawing his sword with terrifying speed. The metal glinted under candlelight. “Who goes there?”

Alexandro positioned himself in front of Marc and Adrian, shielding them with his body while he unsheathed his blade. His expression changed instantly—soft brother gone, deadly warrior in his place.

Maximilian stepped in front of his daughters, sword raised. His grip was steady, voice iron when he warned, “State your name or bleed for your intrusion.”

Even the air seemed to freeze.

A man walked into the hall as if he owned it. Tall. Slim. Smug. He wore a dark coat embroidered with shimmering patterns I did not recognize. His hair was slicked back, revealing sharp cheekbones and colder eyes.

He paused only once—when those eyes found me. His lips curved faintly, though it was not a smile.

“No need for swords,” he drawled. “I come with no intention of harming anyone.”

Sebastian bristled. “You burst into a royal dinner armed with arrogance. That alone earns your death.”

“Oh, trust me,” the man replied, completely unfazed, “if death were coming tonight, it wouldn’t be mine.”

Maximilian stepped closer, blade raised. “Who are you?”

The intruder placed a hand over his heart in a mock greeting. “Lord Henry.”

Alexandro’s voice was low and dangerous. “I know no house by that name.”

“You wouldn’t,” Henry said lightly. “Most important things remain invisible until they wish to be seen.”

Sebastian moved forward, sword tip aimed at Henry’s throat. “Speak your purpose. Now.”

Henry didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed entertained. “If I tell you, Your Majesty, the moment will lose its dramatic flair.”

Georgina whispered behind me, “Evangeline… something feels wrong.”

I nodded, heart thudding. “Yes. I feel it too.”

Henry’s gaze swept across the room, lingering mockingly on the drawn weapons, the frightened children, the banquet now spoiled by his intrusion. “I assure you,” he said calmly, “panic is unnecessary. What is coming cannot be stopped, but your alarm will change nothing.”

The words crawled beneath my skin, cold and heavy.

Sebastian pressed the blade harder against Henry’s throat. “What is coming?”

Henry tilted his head with eerie amusement. “Why rush? Let the moment breathe. Because the next one…”

He stepped aside.

Someone else was standing in the doorway.

Small, tense, shadowed by the towering entrance. A boy.

My lungs stopped working.

The child stepped into the light. Dark hair. Pale cheeks. Eyes that once belonged to a woman who nearly destroyed us all. Eyes filled with something older now, something hollow and too knowing for his age.

I stumbled forward, gripping the table to steady myself. “No,” I whispered. “It can’t be.”

Sebastian jerked his gaze toward me, alarmed. “Evangeline?”

Georgina gasped. Maximilian froze. Alexandro tightened his grip on his sword. The children shrank back in fear.

The boy looked directly at me.

And I knew him instantly.

“William,” I breathed.

Cordelia’s son had returned.