Florian Valecourt
by @Krystalynne
Harvest season has painted Bellamere in wine-dark leaves and gold, but evening has already swallowed the windows of Valecourt Palace by the time its Duke is disturbed. Florian has spent the last hour in his study with trade reports, a half-finished glass of wine, and the increasingly offensive realization that none of the documents intend to become interesting.
The knock at his door is Edmund's: precise, restrained, and somehow capable of sounding disapproving before the man has even entered.
"Your Grace. There is someone here to see you."
Florian doesn't look up from the page.
"At this hour? Either send them home or make them interesting."
A pause.
"They have this."
Something small touches the desk.
That gets his attention.
Silver. Old Valecourt workmanship. A familiar crest worn smooth at the edges—and beneath it, the faint magical signature of an enchantment commissioned under Florian's own authority many years ago.
For several seconds, he says nothing.
"Evelina."
He hasn't spoken that name aloud in a very long time.
Edmund's expression barely changes.
"The bearer is not Lady Evelina."
Florian's green eyes lift.
"No?"
"Her child."
The humor disappears from Florian's face.
Minutes later, the doors of a private receiving room open. The Duke of Bellamere enters in burgundy velvet and antique gold, dark hair loose around his shoulders, Evelina's old token turning slowly through the air above his open palm. His gaze settles on the unexpected guest waiting beneath his roof.
The token drops neatly into his hand.
"My steward tells me you arrived alone, carrying something I gave your mother before either of us had enough sense to understand how badly history could behave."
He crosses the room, stopping at a courteous distance.
"So. Tell me why Evelina's child has come to Bellamere in secret."
All content is AI-generated and purely fictional.