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EIGHTEEN

EVRYN

T he shadows didn’t feel right.

Evryn had learned, in the short few weeks since falling into the Veil’s cracked-open heart, how to read them—not with her eyes, but with something under her skin. A second heartbeat. A hum.

Right now, that hum was shrieking.

Lucien stood across from her in the basin, circling slowly, his silver gaze narrowed in focus as they worked through another round of shadow training.

He was trying not to look at her too long.

Ever since the night of the kiss. Ever since the dream he wouldn’t talk about but couldn’t hide from his expression.

She pretended not to notice.

Pretended it didn’t cut her a little more each time he stepped away before something real could surface.

But her shadows noticed.

They coiled tighter around her legs, flickering with tension.

Lucien raised a hand. “Good. But don’t tighten your shoulders like that?—”

A sound tore through the basin.

A whistle, fast and sharp—then a crack.

Lucien moved fast, yanking her down behind a toppled pillar just as a bolt of darksteel shattered the stone where she’d stood.

Evryn hit the ground hard, shoulder slamming into packed earth.

Lucien was already drawing blades, his voice a harsh whisper. “Stay down?—”

Figures dropped from the cliff’s edge, five, no six, maybe more. Veil rebels, no House insignia. Burned-black leather, masks covering mouths, eyes wild with zeal.

“Hunters,” Lucien hissed.

Evryn knew that they were here for her.

Lucien struck the first before he touched the ground, shadow lashing out like a whip across the attacker’s throat.

Evryn scrambled to her feet, adrenaline cutting through confusion. “How did they find us?!”

Lucien parried a second blow, growling, “We’ve stayed too long.”

Another bolt whistled by her ear. Evryn ducked, instinct flaring.

Her shadows pulsed out in a wall, but they weren’t fast enough to stop the third hunter crashing into Lucien from behind.

Lucien staggered, caught off guard.

The blade in the hunter’s hand gleamed red.

Evryn’s vision tunneled. She didn’t think. Didn’t breathe. Just reached. Her shadows screamed.

A burst of light exploded from her chest—not flame, not shadow, but something older. Silver and black , lined with veins of deep gold. It ripped through the air, straight into the hunter pinning Lucien.

He was thrown back like a rag doll, landing yards away—unmoving.

Silence.

Every shadow stilled.

Lucien knelt where he’d been, breathing hard, staring at her with something between awe and terror.

Evryn’s knees buckled.

He was there in two strides, arms catching her before she hit the ground.

“I’ve got you,” he said, voice low and rough.

She couldn’t stop shaking. Her hands trembled so hard she couldn’t unclench her fists. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

“Evryn,” he said, gripping her face, forcing her to look at him. “Breathe. With me.”

She tried and failed. Tried again.

“Count it,” he whispered. “Four in. Four out.”

She matched him. One breath. Then another.

Her body finally listened.

“What the hell was that?” she gasped.

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were scanning the brush, tracking movements, reading danger as the other shadows dissipated.

He pulled her tighter.

“I don’t know. But if anyone else saw it, we need to move. Now.”

They didn’t stop until the sky had deepened into twilight, and the summit was two ridges behind them.

Lucien didn’t speak much as they climbed, shadows flaring around him like smoke with teeth. Evryn followed without complaint, her legs screaming but her head too full of what had just happened to slow down.

They finally ducked beneath a twisted arc of thick vines and brush, into an overgrown grove buried beneath the ridge line. It was small, concealed, silent but for the rustle of leaves and a trickle of water nearby.

Lucien knelt, scanning the perimeter with sharp, practiced glances.

He pulled a scroll from his coat, a second shadow-crow already forming near his shoulder.

“What’s that?” Evryn asked, throat still raw.

“I’m sending word to Seraphine and Calder,” he said. “They need to know we were found.”

Evryn dropped onto a patch of moss, groaning. “Do I want to know how they’re going to react?”

“They’ll be furious.” He didn’t sugarcoat it. “But they won’t be going there again.”

Lucien handed the crow the message. It vanished into the trees with a soft whisper.

He finally turned to her. And for a moment, he just looked. No training. No orders. Just breathing the same breath.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Evryn blinked. “For what?”

“For saving my life.”

She snorted. “You’d have done the same.”

“I wouldn’t have done it like that. ”

Evryn’s smile faded. “What was that?”

Lucien sat beside her. “An inheritance. A buried one. You shouldn’t be able to call that kind of force. Not without years of training, anchors, focus. But it responded to your need.”

Evryn curled her knees to her chest, staring at her hands.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just... didn’t want to lose you.”

Lucien froze. After a moment, he reached out slowly. His fingers brushed hers, hesitant at first. Then steadier.

Evryn looked at their hands.

“Are you going to tell me to be careful with it?”

Lucien’s voice was low. “No. I’m going to tell you that you’re terrifying in the best way.”

She laughed, barely. Then leaned against him, forehead resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

For once, she let herself believe she wasn’t alone in this war.