Page 13

THIRTEEN

LUCIEN

S he hadn’t spoken to him in hours.

Not since the truth slipped out of his mouth like a blade.

Lucien walked ahead on the narrow ridge trail, the mist curling low around their boots, boots crunching through brittle leaves and dead wards left behind by rebels who hadn’t survived the Queen’s last purge.

Evryn kept her distance.

Just out of reach.

Not far enough to be gone. But far enough to remind him he’d lost something—again.

And the worst part?

He felt it. The silence. The absence of her voice with endless questions.

The way her steps no longer unconsciously matched his, the way she didn’t look to him when the wind shifted or the shadows thickened. She hadn’t asked him anything. No snide comments. No biting humor. Just quiet.

And that silence gutted him more than her anger ever could’ve.

Because she still walked with him.

Which meant some part of her still wanted to believe he wouldn’t fail her again .

Lucien gritted his teeth, eyes flicking up toward the sky where the Veil shimmered faintly—always watching, always listening.

She knows.

The Queen always knew.

Lucien didn’t flinch when the wind delivered the familiar flicker of shadow that materialized beside him—a crow made of smoke and violet thread, its wings beating soundlessly until it dropped a parchment-wrapped scroll into his hand.

It vanished just as fast.

He didn’t stop walking.

Just unrolled the letter with the same practiced tension he always did when Cassian sent him something.

The script inside was neat, elegant, and unmistakably mocking in tone.

“She knows you haven’t carried out the order. Orders to follow. Delay if you must. But prepare. —C”

Lucien’s fingers curled around the parchment until it crackled.

He didn’t burn it.

Not yet.

He slid it into his coat, behind his blade.

His mind raced.

She knows I haven’t killed her.

He should’ve expected it. His mother was ruthless but not stupid. Every breath Evryn took was another insult to the throne. Another risk.

Another reason to send someone worse than him. And since Lucien was always the first and last resort, he could only imagine which mercenary she would choose next.

Behind him, Evryn’s voice cut through the air. “That thing. The crow. What was it?”

Lucien didn’t turn around. “Messenger.”

“That much I got,” she said. “From who?”

He finally looked over his shoulder. “Cassian.”

Evryn’s brow furrowed. “Your brother?”

Lucien nodded once. Neutral. Controlled.

“What did it say?”

He didn’t blink.

“Just that the Queen is moving resources near the border. Might get messy soon.”

Evryn stared at him for a moment too long, her jaw slightly tight.

“You sure that’s all it said?”

Lucien kept his voice even. “If it were worse, we wouldn’t be walking.”

She didn’t reply.

Didn’t press.

But something in her expression cooled again. Not out of fear. Not quite.

Like she could feel the shape of the truth beneath the surface and didn’t know whether to dig or let it lie.

Lucien turned back to the path, keeping his pace.

If she found out the Queen already knew...

She’d be gone by nightfall. Possibly back into Thalia’s lies.

And worse, she might think he was still playing his part.

That he was still leading her to her death.

So he stayed quiet.

His silence was his second betrayal.

They reached the edge of the Shatterroads near dusk.

The land opened into a wide, broken valley where trees grew like bone-pikes and old ruins jutted from the ground like teeth from a dying god’s mouth. Lucien knew the place. Had used it before.

There were still pockets of shifter enclaves hidden in these ridges—people who hadn’t bent the knee to any House. They were hostile. Suspicious. But they didn’t answer to Selyne or Thalia.

And right now, that made them the safest people he could find.

Evryn broke the silence first.

Her voice was calm, but clipped. “Where are you taking me?”

He slowed, glancing back.

“To a place where people won’t want you dead quite as badly.”

“Comforting.”

He almost smirked. Almost.

Lucien adjusted the strap of his pack. “They’re Veilborn. Unaligned to either side that wants you. Don’t deal with the Crown, don’t deal with Thalia. But they honor power and their own kind. And right now, you’ve got more of that than you know what to do with.”

She raised a brow. “So you think if I flash the Mark around they won’t slit my throat?”

He met her eyes. “No. I think if I do it, they’ll listen long enough to keep it in their pants.”

That earned him the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

Not a smile. But it wasn’t hate. Progress. Still, her expression turned cold again.

“And what then?” she asked. “When they realize who I am?”

Lucien paused.

When the Queen sends someone else.

“When that happens,” he said, “you’ll be ready.”

Evryn studied him like she wanted to read his blood through his skin.

“You keep saying I’ll be something.”

“I don’t know what you’ll be.”

“Then why do you keep protecting me?”

Lucien looked at her. The truth curled on his tongue.

Because you remind me what I used to be.

He didn’t say it.

Instead, he said, “Because I don’t want anyone else deciding it for you.”

They stared at each other.

For a moment, it felt like maybe there was still something unbroken between them.

She turned and didn't look back.