Page 40 of The Panther's Price

Lucien arched a brow, but didn’t look directly at her. “You’re improving.”

“That’s not a denial.”

He said nothing.

She huffed and rolled her shoulders, shaking off a flicker of darkness that hadn’t listened to her command. “So are we going to talk about what’s got your jaw locked like a bear trap, or are you gonna keep pretending your shadows aren’t flicking like they’re in a mood?”

Lucien sighed and finally faced her. “You’re not like other Sighted.”

Evryn blinked. “Okay… that’s a pivot.”

“You’re not just shadow-sensitive. You don’treadthe Veil. Youmovewith it. You respond to it. It doesn’t treat you like an outsider.”

Evryn frowned. “Because of the mark?”

He shook his head. “Because of what it came from.”

She stepped closer, arms crossed. “You said before I had old blood. First Mark. What does that mean,really?”

Lucien’s gaze dropped to the ground. He didn’t want to say it. Not again. Not aloud.

But she deserved it.

“Your line predates the Court of Claws,” he said softly. “Before the blood was divided by beast or clan or House. You don’t just descend from royalty, Evryn. You descend from something the Housesfear.”

He continued. “Your shadowmancy doesn’t behave like mine. It doesn’t come when called. Itchooses.And it’s chosenyou.That means something.”

She looked at her hands.

“Then why does it feel like something that wants to consume me?”

Lucien stepped closer, carefully. “Because you’re afraid of it.”

She met his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Not when he was just as scared of whatshewas becoming. Not because he feared her power, but because he feared what that power would demand—and how far he’d go to keep her alive.

Even if it meant betraying everyone who had ever trusted him.

Again.

Later, as the light shifted and they shared bread and salt-slick fruit from Lucien’s satchel, she sat beside him on the broken steps, her shoulder just barely brushing his.

“You ever think about running?” she asked softly.

“From what?”

“From all of it. Your House. The throne. The war.”

Lucien stared at the mist curling along the treetops.

“Every damn day. What do you think I’m doing now?”

Evryn smiled, tired. “You don’t seem like the running type.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not fast enough to escape the things I’ve done.”

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