Page 30 of The Panther's Price

THIRTEEN

LUCIEN

She hadn’t spoken to him in hours.

Not since the truth slipped out of his mouth like a blade.

Lucien walked ahead on the narrow ridge trail, the mist curling low around their boots, boots crunching through brittle leaves and dead wards left behind by rebels who hadn’t survived the Queen’s last purge.

Evryn kept her distance.

Just out of reach.

Not far enough to be gone. But far enough to remind him he’d lost something—again.

And the worst part?

Hefeltit. The silence. The absence of her voice with endless questions.

The way her steps no longer unconsciously matched his, the way she didn’t look to him when the wind shifted or the shadows thickened. She hadn’t asked him anything. No snide comments. No biting humor. Just quiet.

And that silence gutted him more than her anger ever could’ve.

Because she still walked with him.

Which meant some part of her still wanted to believe he wouldn’t fail heragain.

Lucien gritted his teeth, eyes flicking up toward the sky where the Veil shimmered faintly—always watching, always listening.

Sheknows.

The Queen always knew.

Lucien didn’t flinch when the wind delivered the familiar flicker of shadow that materialized beside him—a crow made of smoke and violet thread, its wings beating soundlessly until it dropped a parchment-wrapped scroll into his hand.

It vanished just as fast.

He didn’t stop walking.

Just unrolled the letter with the same practiced tension he always did when Cassian sent him something.

The script inside was neat, elegant, and unmistakably mocking in tone.

“She knows you haven’t carried out the order. Orders to follow. Delay if you must. But prepare. —C”

Lucien’s fingers curled around the parchment until it crackled.

He didn’t burn it.

Not yet.

He slid it into his coat, behind his blade.

His mind raced.

She knows I haven’t killed her.

He should’ve expected it. His mother was ruthless but not stupid. Every breath Evryn took was another insult to the throne. Another risk.

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