Page 63 of The Panther's Price

Evryn’s jaw flexed, her posture straightening with something colder than defiance. “I’m not looking for it.”

Lucien swore softly under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. His shadows curled around his boots, agitated.

“She’s dangerous, Evryn. Not just because of what she can do—but because of what sheknows. She’ll find every crack in your armor and smile while she breaks it wider.”

There was a long pause.

Evryn tilted her head. Her voice was like steel wrapped in velvet.

“Then it’s a good thing I stopped wearing armor.”

They left that evening.

The roads toward Umbraclaw Keep were narrow veins of stone and memory, cutting through ashwood forests and ridgelines carved with sigils older than any House. Lucien hadn’t walked this path in years.

Not since the last time he bled for her throne.

The wind grew colder the closer they got.

The trees more silent.

Evryn rode beside him on foot, her presence a calm shadow in the corner of his vision. She didn’t ask questions. But he knew she had them.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said eventually.

Lucien kept his gaze on the horizon. “Just remembering.”

“Good or bad?”

He hesitated. “Both. Mostly bad.”

She didn’t press.

That was something he’d come to crave about her. She didn’t demand pieces of him. She waited. And somehow, that made him want to give them more.

They stopped at the edge of a clearing near the final hill before the castle.

The sky above Umbraclaw Keep was always darker than it should’ve been. Not just weather—magic. The throne here bled shadow into the air, into the trees, intoyou.

The castle stood tall and cruel against the skyline. Blackstone towers. Curved archways. Balconies made for archers, not guests. And at the very top—a glass-steepled chamber where the Queen often sat, watching.

Waiting.

Lucien stared up at it, gut twisting.

Evryn stepped beside him.

“I won’t let her win,” she said softly.

Lucien turned to her, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

“She’s been winning for a long time,” he murmured.

“Then let’s change the game.”

A bitter smile tugged at his lips.

She reached for his hand. Laced her fingers through his making Lucien not just feel like a weapon walking into a war, but a man standing beside the only person who might actuallysurviveit.

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