The silence after Acheron spoke lasted exactly four seconds.

Then the Court exploded.

Voices crashed across the chamber from every direction at once. Silver magic flared through the upper tiers. Several gods rose simultaneously, their shadows twisting violently across the walls.

Eva stood perfectly still beside the throne platform and came to one very important conclusion:

Immortal beings were somehow even worse at controlling their emotions than ordinary people.

“Bound?” one figure hissed sharply from the eastern tier. “You bound yourself to a mortal?”

“The fracture has already spread through the lower sanctums!”

“She should be removed immediately—”

“She survived his touch—”

“That alone violates the old laws—”

The chamber dissolved into overlapping arguments.

Acheron remained motionless at the center of it all.

Which, somehow, made him look more dangerous than everyone else combined.

The shadows around the throne had spread across nearly half the marble floor now, black frost curling through the cracks beneath them like veins of ice.

Eva glanced sideways toward him carefully.

His expression remained unreadable.

Cold.

Controlled.

But now she recognized the difference between calm and restraint.

This was restraint.

The kind holding violence on a leash.

Interesting.

Terrifying.

Possibly useful later.

A sharp voice cut across the chamber.

“The mortal cannot remain inside the palace.”

Eva looked upward.

A tall woman draped in silver robes descended slowly from one of the higher marble tiers. Unlike the others, she moved with absolute precision, every step deliberate enough to feel dangerous.

Her skin shimmered faintly like polished stone beneath the chamber lights.

No visible pupils.

Just pale silver eyes.

Wonderful.

Another horrifyingly beautiful immortal.

The woman stopped several steps above Eva and looked down at her the way scholars examined dangerous insects.

“Introduce yourself, mortal.”

Eva crossed her arms.

“I’m beginning to feel overexposed in this room.”

The woman did not blink.

Acheron spoke first.

“Lady Seraphine.”

Ah.

So terrifying silver-eyed woman had a name.

Good to know.

Lady Seraphine’s attention shifted briefly toward Acheron.

“My Lord,” she said carefully, “the Court deserves an explanation.”

“You assume one is owed.”

The temperature in the chamber dropped instantly.

Several nobles looked away immediately.

Interesting.

Apparently even ancient death gods enjoyed making conversations uncomfortable.

Seraphine remained composed.

“The fracture threatens every realm beneath the veil.”

“And yet it remains contained.”

“For now.”

A tense silence followed.

Eva noticed something then.

No one in the chamber questioned Acheron directly for long.

They circled him.

Carefully.

Like people standing near a sleeping predator.

The realization settled heavily in her stomach.

The Underworld had rulers.

But Acheron was something else entirely.

Lord Vael appeared from the western side of the chamber then, descending toward the throne with that same severe expression he always seemed permanently burdened with.

Eva resisted the urge to sigh dramatically.

“Oh good,” she muttered quietly. “The unpleasant one returned.”

Vael’s gaze snapped toward her immediately.

Apparently supernatural hearing was another thing she now had to suffer through.

“You continue to speak recklessly.”

“And you continue to look deeply unhappy to be alive.”

Several nearby nobles visibly flinched.

One actually turned away to hide what suspiciously resembled laughter.

Vael looked moments away from spiritual collapse.

Acheron’s shadows shifted sharply across the floor.

Eva looked down.

The shadows had begun creeping toward her feet again.

Honestly, they were becoming embarrassingly obvious about their preferences.

Seraphine noticed too.

Her silver gaze lowered briefly toward the moving darkness.

Then slowly lifted back toward Acheron.

Something unreadable passed across her face.

Concern.

Not for herself.

For him.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“The shadows respond to her,” Seraphine said quietly.

The chamber fell silent again.

Every eye turned toward the floor.

The shadows immediately froze in place.

Caught.

Eva stared downward.

“…Your kingdom appears to be emotionally compromised.”

No one laughed.

Cowards.

Acheron’s jaw tightened faintly.

“The contract altered the palace balance.”

“That is not balance,” Vael said sharply. “That is attachment.”

The word echoed strangely through the chamber.

Attachment.

Eva felt the atmosphere change instantly.

Not magical this time.

Personal.

Acheron’s silver eyes lifted slowly toward Vael.

And for the first time since entering the Court chamber, genuine danger flashed openly across his face.

Not coldness.

Not indifference.

Something sharper.

The shadows beneath the throne spread violently outward.

Every noble in the chamber stiffened immediately.

Vael realized his mistake too late.

“My Lord,” he began carefully—

“Choose your next words wisely.”

The quietness in Acheron’s voice somehow made the threat worse.

Vael fell silent instantly.

Eva looked between them carefully.

Interesting.

Very, very interesting.

The Court was afraid of the fracture.

But they were more afraid of provoking Acheron.

That meant the balance of power here was unstable already.

And somehow—

She had become part of it.

Wonderful.

Exactly the sort of political situation every exhausted mortal woman hoped to accidentally trigger.

Seraphine descended the remaining steps slowly.

Unlike the others, she stopped directly in front of Eva without visible hesitation.

Close enough to study her properly.

Eva resisted the urge to step backward.

Mostly out of stubbornness.

“You do not fear him enough,” Seraphine said quietly.

Eva glanced sideways toward Acheron.

“He hasn’t killed me yet.”

“That is precisely why you should worry.”

That answer settled unpleasantly in Eva’s chest.

Before she could respond, another figure rose from the upper tiers.

This one enormous.

Broad-shouldered, dressed in black armor marked with silver runes, with a scar splitting directly across one blind eye.

He looked less like a god and more like war given human shape.

Wonderful.

The chamber was apparently collecting nightmares now.

“The mortal remains alive because he allows it,” the armored god rumbled. “That can change.”

Eva looked at him flatly.

“You people are alarmingly repetitive.”

The armored god actually blinked.

Apparently mortals were not usually sarcastic during divine political disputes.

Good.

At least she was contributing something new culturally.

Acheron descended one step from the throne platform.

Instantly, the chamber quieted again.

The armored god lowered his gaze first.

Interesting.

Even war bowed to death.

“The contract stands,” Acheron said evenly. “The mortal remains under my authority.”

“And if she destabilizes the veil further?” Seraphine asked.

Acheron’s expression never changed.

“Then I will handle it.”

Simple answer.

Terrifying answer.

No one argued afterward.

Because suddenly Eva understood the truth beneath all this ceremony and political tension:

The Frozen Court did not exist to control Acheron.

It existed to survive him.

And somewhere beneath the endless layers of cold restraint and divine control—

Something inside the Lord of Death was already beginning to crack.