Page 25 of The Panther's Price

The silence stretched, brittle as old glass.

He broke it first. “You fought like someone born in the Veil.”

Her gaze lifted slowly to meet his. “I wasn’t.”

“I know.”

Lucien crouched by one of the broken crates, rummaging until he found a sealed bottle of bloodroot tonic. He tossed it to her gently.

She caught it without flinching.

“What did you see?” he asked, low.

“During the fight?”

“No. After. The way the shadows reacted… that doesn’t happen for most Sighted.”

She hesitated.

“I don’t know what it was,” she said honestly. “They looked at me like I was... familiar. Like I reminded them of something they forgot.”

Lucien nodded slowly, letting her words settle.

That was exactly the problem.

He stood and crossed the room, leaning against a stone pillar near her, arms folded. The fractured light from a broken window caught on the silver in his eyes, making him look too sharp. Too focused.

“Evryn,” he said. “What do you actuallyknowabout your parents?”

Her breath caught, almost imperceptibly.

She didn’t answer at first. Just gripped the tonic tighter.

“I was told they died in a fire,” she said. “When I was two. Eamon never told me more.”

“And you never asked?”

“I asked,” she said, voice tight. “He wouldn’t answer. Said it was better not to know.”

Lucien exhaled slowly. Shadows pulsed faintly behind him.

He dropped into a crouch in front of her, meeting her eye level.

“You bear a mark on your shoulder,” he said. “Left side. Just beneath the collar.”

Evryn froze.

He saw it, her whole body reacting, like someone had pulled a memory from under her skin.

“How do you know that?” she whispered.

“I’ve seen it before,” Lucien said. “But not in this century.”

Her throat worked on a swallow.

“What is it?”

He held her gaze.

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