Page 7

SEVEN

LUCIEN

H e watched her from the tree line.

She stood alone in the ruins of the train station, just past where the Threshold spat her out.

The fog clung to her boots. Her shoulders curled slightly, not in weakness—but in weariness.

She looked like a blade dulled by too many cuts, still sharp enough to bleed someone if they tried to touch her.

Lucien didn’t move.

She was waiting. For Thalia, no doubt. The rebel queen with silver hair and a voice made of fire and honey. She’d left only moments before, murmuring soft promises— stay here, I’ll be back soon , like the forest wouldn’t try to swallow her up before she returned.

Lucien didn’t trust soft voices. Especially ones that came dressed like saviors.

Thalia didn’t want to save Evryn. She wanted to use her.

He knew the way Thalia operated. She spun loyalty like silk—wrapped you in it, warm and tight—until you didn’t realize you were choking.

Lucien moved. One step. Then two.

Evryn heard him before he reached her. Her head snapped toward the sound, fingers twitching at her side where a blade might be hidden. She didn't speak. Not yet.

She didn’t have to. Her eyes said everything.

Who the hell are you?

And why does it feel like I already know you?

Lucien stepped from the fog, slowly. No shadow tricks. No glamours. Just him. Bare. Steady.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said.

She didn’t relax.

Smart girl.

“No one ever is,” she replied, voice rough but steady.

He stopped a few feet away. Far enough not to threaten. Close enough to be heard.

“You’re waiting for her to come back,” he said. “Thalia.”

Evryn’s brows pulled together. “How do you know her name?”

Lucien tilted his head. “Because I’ve known her a long time. Long enough to know she doesn't do anything without a reason.”

“She said she’d help me.”

“She said a lot of things.”

Evryn’s eyes narrowed. “You think I should just trust you instead?”

“No,” he said. “I think you should trust yourself. ”

The wind picked up then, catching the hem of her coat. Her curls whipped into her face. She didn’t flinch. Just stared at him.

Measured. Mistrusting. But not afraid.

That quiet courage again. The kind that didn’t brag.

“You’re the one I saw before,” she said softly. “In the market.”

Lucien nodded once. “You saw me when you shouldn’t have.”

“Because of the Sight?”

“Because of who you are.”

That made her hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the blood running through your veins hasn’t walked the world in centuries,” he said. “I mean there are Houses that would kill to control you—or kill just to stop you. Thalia’s one of them. She just hides it better.”

Evryn looked down then. Her hands curled at her sides. Her voice was quieter now.

“She told me she’d help me find Eamon.”

She didn’t know. Of course she didn’t. And he couldn’t say it.

Not yet.

“She might try,” he said carefully. “But it won’t be for you. It’ll be for her cause. Her rebellion. She’ll make you into a flag before you understand what it costs.”

Evryn’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “And you won’t?”

Lucien stepped closer. The space between them thinned like paper.

“I don’t need you to be anything.”

She blinked, searching his face. For what, he didn’t know.

A lie? A weakness? Something she could believe in?

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Why are you helping me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Because the truth didn’t fit into clean sentences. Because he didn’t know how to explain it.

How her eyes haunted his dreams. How every assassin’s instinct screamed kill her, but his soul—what tattered pieces remained— refused. And that’s why he stood here now trying to save her instead of end her. So, he settled with the only truth he knew for certain.

“Because you’re not ready for the war Thalia’s dragging you into,” he said. “And I’ve seen what happens to people used as pawns in her game.”

Evryn looked toward the trees where Thalia had disappeared. Then back at him.

There was a flicker in her gaze—uncertainty, yes. But also something stronger. Something solid. Trust? Not quite. But something like it.

“I don’t know you,” she said. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Lucien.”

She blinked again. “Lucien… what?”

“Umbraclaw.”

She stiffened.

He expected that.

“The Queen’s son,” she said.

He was surprised at her knowledge, but then again, she hadn’t lived this long by being kept in complete darkness.

“I didn’t say I liked her,” he replied.

A pause.

To his quiet astonishment, she laughed.

It was a small sound. Tired. Almost bitter. But it was real .

“I must be losing it,” she murmured. “Following someprince through a haunted forest.”

“You haven’t said yes yet.”

She looked at him, the weight of her choice dancing in her eyes. Then she nodded once. Tight. Final.

“I want answers. If you lie to me…”

“I won’t.”

Evryn looked toward the dark, where Thalia had gone. Then she stepped forward, past the shattered stones, toward him.

“I’m not yours,” she said.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change. But something inside him did.

“I know.” He turned.

And she followed.