Page 11 of The Panther's Price

But every so often, her fingers would brush the bone charm at her neck, and her heart would whisper,I know you’re there.

That night, she dreamed again.

This time, he stood beside her in a garden overrun with shadow-roses. The sky above bled ink and ash, and still, she reached for him.

And this time he didn’t vanish. He took her hand and it burned like the truth.

FIVE

LUCIEN

Lucien stood against the balcony’s edge where the ivy hadn’t yet strangled the stone. Aethermoor’s twilight light cast the palace in dusky violet, painting everything in hues of secrets. This was the only place in the Court that still felt remotely honest. Forgotten. Quiet. Hidden.

He felt him before he heard him.

Cassian moved like a whisper in silk, all loose limbs and barely-suppressed mockery. If Lucien was a knife, Cassian was poison in a wineglass—just as lethal, but prettier when it killed you.

“You’re getting slow, brother,” Cassian drawled from the shadows. “I’ve been watching you for a solid five minutes and not once did you try to gut me.”

Lucien didn’t look at him. “Maybe I’m losing my energy.”

“Or maybe the girl’s got you twisted up worse than a blood oath.”

Now he turned.

Cassian stood in the archway, leaning one shoulder against the stone, arms crossed over a velvet jacket that looked like it cost more than most commoners made in a year. His eyes werecat-slit and ice-pale, gleaming with the same cruel amusement he wore like cologne.

Lucien’s lip curled. “Did you come here to gloat or just to piss me off?”

“Neither.” Cassian clicked his tongue, sauntering forward with lazy elegance. “I came because Mother asked for an update. And I—being the dutiful second son—am here to deliver.”

Lucien said nothing.

Cassian exhaled a mock sigh. “So moody. All this brooding—anyone ever tell you it's exhausting to witness? You’re like a statue someone spilled sadness on.”

“What’s the intel, Cassian?”

His brother grinned, all sharp teeth and charm. “Fine. Straight to it, then.” He leaned in slightly. “The rebels are moving. Faster than we thought. Thalia’s gathering numbers in the Wyrdlands. She’s met with Grimhart emissaries. Rumor says she’s looking for a queen to crown.”

Lucien’s jaw tensed. “Evryn.”

Cassian tilted his head. “She fits the prophecy. Mostly. And the rebels like shiny symbols.”

“She’s more than a symbol,” Lucien muttered.

Cassian’s grin faltered. “What was that?”

Lucien turned away again, bracing his palms against the cool stone. “She’s not what the Queen thinks she is. She’s not just some stray with a bloodline. She canseeme, Cassian.”

A beat of silence. Then, laughter.

“Oh, she saw you? You mean the great shadowmancer, assassin of the Crown, feared blade of the Throne? Seen by a little Borderlands nobody?” Cassian chuckled. “Do go on. This is better than Court theater.”

Lucien’s voice was low. Flat. Deadly.

“I vanished into the Veil, cloaked in layered shadow, slowed my pulse. She looked straight at me.”

Cassian blinked. The laughter dimmed, but the smirk stayed. “So she’s Sighted.”

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