Page 71 of The Panther's Price

“…Evryn.”

It wasn’t just her voice carried in that roar. It was herblood.

The primal panther. The throne-bearer. The Queen that time had tried to forget.

She had awakened.

THIRTY-TWO

EVRYN

The Panther had teeth. And they were hers now.

Evryn stood in the ruined circle of runes, her breath coming in short, hot bursts, steam curling from her skin. The scent of scorched blood and broken magic filled the vault. The chains lay in molten heaps at her feet.

Queen Selyne had vanished through a shimmered ward the moment the power tore free of her. Coward.

But she’d left her monsters behind.

Let them try.

The first one charged—a brute in warplate etched with red-silver veins of bloodsteel, carrying a glaive longer than Evryn was tall. She didn’t flinch.

Shemoved.

Shadow wrapped around her limbs as she ducked, rolled, then launched upward—claws bursting from her fingers mid-leap. She landed on his chest, weight snapping him backward. Her growl was low and ancient, vibrating from somewhere far older than her throat.

The panther within herknewhow to fight.

She didn’t hesitate. Sheripped.

Steel groaned. Blood sprayed across her cheek. The soldier collapsed, choking.

Another was already behind her—quicker, meaner. The Queen’s second: General Varrik.

Evryn spun just in time to catch the arc of his enchanted chainblade across her forearm. The pain jolted fire through her arm, but she didn’t drop.

Varrik sneered, bloodlust in his eyes. “You’re no queen. Just another beast.”

Evryn bared her fangs. “And you’re prey.”

She lunged.

Varrik swung again, but she was faster now, her body low, graceful. The panther’s rhythm moved through her bones, guiding every strike.

She ducked the blade and drove a fist into his ribs. The impact cracked through his armor like thunder. He grunted, staggered and then she pounced.

They went down hard.

He snarled, grabbing at her throat. “You think power makes you royal? It makes you atool—just like the rest of us.”

Evryn’s eyes burned.

She saw Eamon’s face.

Lucien’s.

Every slice the Queen fed her.

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