A Bloodveiled Descent (The Solwyn Duology #1)

Chapter 1

The executioner arrived with the sunrise, disguised as Evelyne’s handmaid and brandishing curtains like a blade. Sunlight spilled into the room, catching dust in its wake and casting golden streaks across the embroidered tapestries and polished mahogany.

Evelyne groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. “Are you trying to kill me, Seraphine? A slower death would be preferable.”

“Trying to wake you, my lady,” Seraphine shot back. “The morning’s nearly spent, and you’ve ignored three very polite knocks. I was beginning to think you’d perished in your sleep, only to find you snoring like a grown man.”

Evelyne peeled one eye open and smirked. “You exaggerate.”

Seraphine crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Do I? I’ll drag you out by your toes if you don’t rise this instant.”

Evelyne sighed and tossed a pillow toward Seraphine, hoping to coax even a hint of a smile, but the handmaid didn’t so much as blink.

“My goodness, you’re particularly vicious today,” Evelyne muttered, pushing herself upright. “At least allow me a moment to adjust to the blinding assault on my senses.”

Seraphine exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “For heaven’s sake, look at you. That hair is a tragedy.”

Evelyne laughed softly and ruffled it further. “I thought I looked rather ravishing.”

Seraphine gave her a flat stare, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “You will be the end of me.”

“I certainly hope not,” Evelyne teased, reaching for the long silken robe at the foot of her bed.

Seraphine let out a low breath, but the affection in her gaze never wavered.

The older woman had been at Evelyne’s side for as long as she could remember: part handmaid, part guardian, and part second mother.

She was a little plump with age, her once-dark curls silvered, but her hazel eyes remained warm.

And her hands were a miracle when it came to taming Evelyne’s wild mane.

Unfortunately, last night had undone all of Seraphine’s hard work.

Evelyne ran her fingers through her tangled hair, grimacing as they caught in the mess of knots. She had been too exhausted to care after sneaking out for a midnight run through the gardens, collapsing into bed without bothering to untie it. Now, she’d have to face Seraphine’s inevitable dismay.

Suppressing a laugh, she swept toward the door, her robe trailing behind her. Whatever lecture awaited, she’d endure it with grace. Life would be unbearably dull without her family’s fussing, after all.

Evelyne descended the spiral staircase of Duskwood Manor, her bare feet silent against the burnished floorboards.

Daylight filtered through the tall, arched windows, bathing the sitting room below in soft gold.

The air smelled of fresh lilacs with a hint of bohea tea, a scent Evelyne never grew tired of.

The delicate notes of a piano drifted through the air as skilled fingers danced over the keys in a melody so fluid, so precise, that there could be no mistake—Aurelia was home.

Evelyne paused mid-step, one hand resting lightly on the banister as she let the music wash over her, a quiet moment of nostalgia before reality pulled her forward once more.

Her older sister had always reveled in the attention her music drew.

But Aurelia didn’t simply crave admiration for her talent—she thrived on it in every form.

She knew how to hold a room, whether through her music, her beauty, or her finely honed charm.

And men were utterly helpless in her presence.

Her long, graceful legs, poised figure, and full lips left men spellbound.

Golden curls, soft as spun silk, framed a flawless face, her fair skin radiant in the morning glow.

But it was her eyes—crystalline blue, like a summer sky—that truly ensnared anyone who dared meet her gaze.

Yet for all Aurelia’s brilliance, Evelyne could see past the cultivated facade.

There was a time when Aurelia’s laughter had filled the air, and she and Evelyne whispered of dreams and secret affections in the quiet of their shared chambers.

But now, though Aurelia still wore her allure like a well-fitted gown, something beneath it had dimmed.

The fire that once blazed in her eyes had waned, and Evelyne often wondered how much of her sister’s joy was real and how much was merely another role she had mastered for the world.

The melody swelled, filling the room with bittersweet notes that mirrored Evelyne’s thoughts.

Across from the piano, their mother sat on the light blue couch, absorbed in a novel.

Lady Celeste Duskwood hardly spoke while reading, always fully focused, but her presence was impossible to ignore.

She had a quiet strength that seemed to guide the whole household.

Evelyne smiled softly, letting the music wrap around her like a familiar comfort. But just as she settled into the moment, a loud thud broke the peace, followed by sudden silence.

“Have you forgotten what today is, sister?” Aurelia’s voice rang out. She turned on the bench, a single golden curl slipping over her shoulder as she surveyed Evelyne with a critical eye. “How can you still be lounging in your sleep robe? And your hair… Honestly!”

Evelyne sighed dramatically and made her way down the stairs. She crossed the sitting room and pulled Aurelia into a warm embrace, partly to quiet her. Aurelia huffed, but her arms wrapped around Evelyne in return.

“You do realize we’ve been waiting an entire hour for you, don’t you?” Aurelia added, though her voice softened slightly.

“I was tired. And what’s wrong with my attire? Surely this luxurious robe and my artfully tousled hair will help me charm a suitor, won’t they?” Evelyne smirked.

Aurelia sighed. “Mother, perhaps we should forgo breakfast and summon Seraphine straight away. She’s going to need extra time with this one.”

Lady Duskwood finally looked up from her book. “Let’s have tea first, shall we? No need to overwhelm your sister so early in the day.” Her eyes flicked toward Evelyne. “Although, Aurelia isn’t entirely wrong. Seraphine will certainly have her work cut out for her.”

Evelyne placed a hand over her heart, feigning shock. “So it’s a grand scheme, then? The two of you conspiring against me.”

“Of course,” Aurelia replied. “It’s what we are here for.”

With a quiet snort, Evelyne waved off the comment and made her way toward the dining room, rubbing her temples, bracing herself for what was coming. The morning had only just begun, and the battle for propriety was already underway.

The dining room was perpetually an impeccable display of wealth and refinement.

The oak table stretched across the room.

White linen draped its surface, and a golden centerpiece gleamed at its heart.

Crystal and fine china were set with meticulous care, reflecting her mother’s unyielding demand for perfection.

Evelyne entered the room slowly, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Her mother and Aurelia were already at the breakfast table, moving with practiced rhythm. Celeste kissed her husband’s forehead before taking her seat, her posture straight as a blade as she surveyed the neatly set table.

Evelyne stared at her mother, admiring the very image of elegance. Her burgundy gown proclaimed her rank, and every strand of silver-gray hair was neatly tucked beneath a lace cap.

“Mauri, please bring us some tea. The strongest brew you have,” Lady Duskwood instructed. The young house servant nodded briskly and slipped into the kitchen.

Evelyne moved toward her usual seat at the table, acutely aware of her mother’s assessing gaze brushing over her like a fine-toothed comb before returning to the flawless breakfast spread.

As she passed her younger brother, Evelyne lightly brushed his shoulder, drawing his eyes—golden like hers—from the book he was absorbed in.

Though Cillian had reached twenty, Evelyne felt a protective, almost maternal instinct toward him.

He had always been different, drawn more to books and quiet study than the loud company of others his age.

His sharp mind and dry sense of humor were treasures few ever saw, hidden behind his reserved nature.

Their father, Lord Aron, often pushed him toward duties expected of an heir, like hunting, fencing, and politics, but none of it seemed to interest him.

And Evelyne admired that about him. He was unshakably himself, never bothered by expectations that might weigh others down, and it only deepened her instinct to look out for him, even when she knew he didn’t truly need it.

A faint smile pulled at the corners of Cillian’s mouth. His tousled brown hair and slightly rumpled clothes spoke to his disregard for the strict decorum of the Duskwood household, though his kindness usually made it easy to overlook.

“Rough morning?” he murmured.

Evelyne nodded, a trace of a smile curving her lips. “I’ve yet to have tea. I’m not human without it,” she whispered back.

Cillian huffed a soft laugh and returned to his book.

Lady Duskwood’s voice cut through the hushed morning chatter. “Evelyne, as you know, the society luncheon is this afternoon.”

Evelyne inhaled slowly, bracing herself. “Yes, Mother.”

“You are twenty-two now, well past the age of debut, and must represent this family with the grace and dignity expected of a Duskwood,” her mother replied, voice tight. “Which means your posture, speech, and every gesture must reflect our standing.”

Aurelia leaned forward. “And don’t forget the blush pink on your lips. It’s subtle, yet inviting. And your smile should be warm but restrained. And your eyes—”

“Aurelia,” Evelyne interrupted, her patience thinning. “I believe I can manage, thank you.”

Her sister arched a perfectly shaped brow. “I’m only trying to help.”

Evelyne leaned back, crossing her arms. “Speaking of appearances, where is Leopold? Still preoccupied with his important work?”