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TWENTY

EVRYN

E vryn woke warm.

It was a strange thing to notice first—not the ache in her muscles from training or the ever-present weight of danger humming in the world around her. Just warmth. The kind that wasn’t from a fire or a cloak, but from being held. From knowing, if only for a moment, that someone saw her. Chose her.

Lucien’s scent still lingered on the air, cypress and smoke and something darker, like steel right before it sings in the forge.

But when she stretched a hand out beside her on the mossy ground beneath the arching moonleaf tree, there was nothing but cold.

Her eyes opened fully.

He was gone.

The remnants of last night still ghosted her skin—his hands, his mouth, his voice in the dark—but the emptiness beside her sharpened fast into suspicion.

This wasn’t like when he kept watch. This felt different.

She sat up, breath steadying, eyes narrowing as she reached for the power humming low in her chest. Her Sight. It had grown stronger in the past days, more precise. Eamon had once told her it would bloom under pressure, under pain. He hadn’t been wrong.

She inhaled slow, let herself fall inward, and when her eyes reopened, the world shimmered.

Footprints, energy trails, not physical—shimmered faintly across the garden floor. A pulse of motion, heading east, cloaked in familiar shadows.

Lucien.

And not alone.

She followed the thread.

The veil around the perimeter was thin here, Lucien had probably believed she wouldn’t sense him leaving through it. But she had trained under his hand now. She knew how he walked when he was lying.

The wind shifted. Voices, hushed, filtered through the trees. Evryn crouched behind a curtain of silverfern, pushing her Sight just far enough to catch every word.

Thalia’s voice, smooth as ever, like silk hiding thorns.

“You’re wasting time, Lucien. She’s clouding your judgment.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Lucien muttered.

Thalia asked, her tone feather-light and cutting.

“Do you? Because as far as I can see, you’re playing the Queen’s orders fast and loose.

Selyne won’t be patient forever. In fact, I think the only reason she has given you this time is because of your obedience and loyalty to her tasks in the past. But this–”

Lucien’s reply came like a crack of cold thunder. “I still serve the Queen if that’s what you’re asking. My loyalty has never shifted so don’t think you can use your words against me.”

The word echoed like a punch to the ribs.

Thalia’s next words dripped like honey laced with poison.

“And what happens when the girl finds out? When she realizes you’ve been keeping her alive only until you decide it’s time to finish out your mother’s orders, being her perfect executioner and all?

Because if that’s not the case, you may as well hand her over to me.

You know I don’t plan to have her head on a silver platter as your mother does. The girl is no threat to me.”

Lucien didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it.

Evryn’s fingers curled into fists against the dirt. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might tear through her ribs.

Thalia’s voice again, lower this time. “You’re not the first assassin to get too close to a mark. But you will be the last, if you don’t remember what side you’re on. We all know your mother is paranoid enough to make sure of it.”

Evryn didn’t stay to hear more.

She stumbled back through the trees, shadows blurring with her vision. Her skin felt too tight. Her pulse a war drum in her ears.

Last night had meant something to her.

Everything .

And to him?

A lie. A delay tactic. An obligation.

Her thoughts spiraled as she returned to the garden, her breath hitching in silent fury. He still worked for the Queen. The woman who wanted her dead. The woman who wanted nothing more than to see her bloodline cease to exist.

And Lucien, who had kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him human— hadn’t even tried to deny it.

He returned not long after, the veil brushing shut behind him like it didn’t want to carry the weight of what had been said.

Evryn was waiting.

Lucien paused when he saw her. His face unreadable, but his shoulders already tensed—like he’d known .

“Where were you?” she asked. Her voice was sharp, but quiet.

Lucien hesitated. “Scouting.”

“Try again.”

He swallowed. “Evryn?—”

“I heard you,” she snapped. “You and Thalia. Every word.”

Lucien went still. The air between them cracked wide open.

“You still serve the Queen,” she said, stepping forward. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t—” he began, but the look in her eyes cut him off.

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean to. You’ve been lying since the day we met. Since the Borderlands. Since the market. All of it.”

Lucien stepped closer, hands raised, voice softer now. “I was trying to protect you.”

“You were following orders!”

“I was ,” he said, sharp now. “But things changed.”

She laughed, harsh and broken. “Because we slept together?”

“No. Because I saw who you are.”

“Then why couldn’t you tell me the truth?!”

Lucien’s voice dropped, raw. “Because I knew you’d run. And because I didn’t want to lose you before I figured out how to fix the damn mess I was born into.”

Evryn stared at him. Her hands trembled, not with fear—but with rage. With heartbreak. She shook her head, slowly.

“I can’t believe I let myself get distracted. I should’ve been looking for Eamon. He’s the only one I can trust.”

“Evryn—”

She turned, shadows already curling at her heels.

“Don’t follow me.”

And before he could try again, before the apology he hadn’t yet found could leave his lips, she vanished into the trees.

Gone like the first time they met. Gone like a blade he hadn’t seen coming.

And Lucien stood alone in the garden that bloomed for her.