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SIXTEEN

EVRYN

E vryn hadn’t slept.

Her body had curled up by the cold hearth, her eyes shut tight, but rest never came. Not really. Not after that.

The kiss still lingered on her lips like smoke—hot, stolen, reckless. She hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t planned it. But she hadn’t pulled away either.

And Lucien… he’d touched her like he hated that he needed it. Like wanting her was a war he was already losing.

And then he’d stepped back. Like he regretted it. Like she was a mistake.

Evryn didn’t know what made her more raw, the kiss itself or the silence after.

She sat up slowly in the pale morning light, pulling her coat tighter around herself. The fire had burned to ash and frost had kissed the edges of the stone floor. The summit circle was quiet, the wind softer than the night before.

Lucien stood across the clearing, arms crossed, his back to her. Watching the horizon. Always watching. Always calculating.

Evryn ran a hand through her tangled curls and pushed herself to her feet, the ache in her chest more stubborn than the bruises along her ribs from the last fight.

She walked over. She didn’t speak.

Neither did he for a beat.

Lucien broke the silence with, “I can show you.”

Evryn blinked. “Show me what?”

He turned, just enough for her to see the glint in his silver eyes.

“Your shadows.”

Lucien led her to the edge of the summit where the stone formed a smooth basin, half-swallowed by moss and old war carvings. It smelled faintly of iron and wet smoke.

“Shadowmancy isn’t something you force ,” he said, his voice quieter now. More teacher than killer. “It’s not muscle. It’s instinct. Breath. Fear.”

Evryn arched a brow. “Great. Fear’s my specialty.”

Lucien’s mouth quirked—not quite a smile, but the edge of one. “It listens to the parts of you you try to bury.”

She stepped into the basin. “And what if I don’t know what those are?”

“You do,” he said. “You just don’t want to.”

Evryn closed her eyes.

She felt it, just like in the alley weeks ago, the pulse beneath her skin, the flicker just outside her vision. It was like trying to cup smoke in her hands.

But then she let go. And something moved.

Shadows slipped from the edges of her boots, slow at first, like startled deer in the underbrush. Then faster. Bolder.

They curled around her arms, her legs, reaching— testing.

Lucien stepped forward slowly, cautious but impressed.

“They’re responding to you.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t need to.”

She looked at him, panic creeping in. “What if I lose control?”

His voice dropped low. “Then I’ll catch you.”

She didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect how much she wanted to believe it.

The shadows surged then—tall, rising behind her like wings unfurling.

She gasped. “Lucien?—”

He moved fast, stepping in close, his hands catching hers.

“Breathe. Look at me.”

She did.

And the darkness settled. Not disappeared. Just… calmed.

Because of him.

Because he wasn’t afraid of her.

It had taken a lot out of her, reaching into herself like that, so the training had been short, but well worth it.

They sat later by the fire again, both drained but oddly settled. Evryn nursed a cracked mug of dried berry tea Lucien had found hidden in the back cellars.

Lucien tossed a stone toward the flames, watching it skip once before landing near the edge of the coals.

“You remind me of someone,” he said after a while.

Evryn tilted her head. “Who?”

“My brother’s wife. Before she died.”

Evryn’s expression softened. “What was she like?”

“Braver than me,” he said. “Smarter too. She used to tell Cassian I was the Queen’s leash dog and that someday I’d snap the chain.”

Evryn smiled faintly. “Sounds like she had good instincts.”

“She died for them.”

Silence stretched between them again, gentler this time.

Evryn looked at him through the firelight, at the way the orange glow played off the edge of his sharp cheekbones, the faint scar by his jaw.

“I used to think Eamon was the only one who could understand what I was,” she said.

Lucien looked up, meeting her gaze.

“And now?”

Evryn hesitated, then whispered, “Now I’m not sure if that terrifies me or makes me want to stay.”

Lucien’s throat bobbed with a swallow.

He didn’t answer because he didn’t have to.

Because this time, they both stayed.