The Court ended without resolution.

Which, Eva quickly discovered, was apparently normal for immortal politics.

Lots of glaring.

Lots of veiled threats.

Very little actual progress.

By the time she and Acheron finally left the Convocation chamber, Eva felt emotionally exhausted enough to sleep for a century.

Unfortunately, the Underworld appeared fundamentally opposed to peace, comfort, and emotional recovery.

The palace corridors were quieter now.

Not empty.

Never empty.

Shadows still moved softly beneath the walls, and distant whispers echoed through the enormous halls like half-remembered prayers. Servants scattered the moment Acheron approached, disappearing through side doors with remarkable survival instincts.

Eva watched another terrified attendant nearly sprint into a tapestry.

“You know,” she said as they walked, “at some point this stops being authority and starts becoming a public health concern.”

Acheron did not look at her.

“They fear consequences.”

“They fear breathing incorrectly near you.”

“That is sensible.”

Eva stared at him.

“You genuinely don’t hear yourself, do you?”

No answer.

Which was answer enough.

They turned into a quieter section of the palace then, one Eva had not seen before. The corridors narrowed here, lit only by silver fire burning inside shallow wall basins. Ancient carvings spread across the black stone ceilings overhead, depicting enormous skeletal figures kneeling before shadowed thrones.

Cheerful architecture continued to be illegal in this kingdom, apparently.

Eva rubbed absently at the fading silver marks near her wrist.

The contract still pulsed faintly beneath her skin.

Not painfully.

Just enough to remind her it existed.

Like something sleeping beneath the surface.

Acheron noticed the movement immediately.

Of course he did.

His gaze lowered briefly toward her wrist before shifting away again almost too quickly.

Interesting.

He avoided looking at the contract directly.

That could not possibly be emotionally healthy.

“So,” Eva said lightly, mostly because silence around him had started feeling dangerous, “does everyone in your Court always behave like they’re one disagreement away from murder?”

“Yes.”

“Well. At least the political structure is honest.”

A faint twitch moved through the shadows near his feet.

At this point Eva was fairly certain his darkness had become more expressive than he was.

They reached a pair of enormous iron doors at the end of the corridor.

Unlike the rest of the palace, these doors bore no carvings.

No symbols.

Nothing.

Plain black metal.

Which somehow felt more ominous.

Acheron stopped before them.

The shadows surrounding the corridor stilled instantly.

Eva noticed.

“What’s in there?”

“A test.”

She frowned immediately.

“That is never a comforting sentence.”

The doors opened slowly.

Cold air spilled outward.

Not ordinary cold.

Dead cold.

The kind that reached directly into bone.

Eva hesitated near the doorway.

Beyond it stretched a vast circular chamber made entirely of black stone. Silver chains hung from the ceiling high overhead, disappearing into darkness. Strange symbols glowed faintly across the floor in concentric rings.

And at the center of the room stood a single black pedestal.

Empty.

Well.

That certainly wasn’t threatening at all.

Eva crossed her arms tightly.

“I would like it officially recorded that I distrust this room completely.”

Acheron entered without responding.

The silver flames along the walls ignited one by one as he moved farther inside.

Eva followed more reluctantly.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the chamber doors slammed shut behind them.

She jumped slightly.

Acheron did not.

Show-off.

The air inside the chamber felt strange.

Heavy.

Like invisible pressure resting against her skin.

Eva looked around carefully.

“What exactly are we testing?”

Acheron turned toward her slowly.

“You.”

Wonderful.

Of course they were.

Eva sighed dramatically.

“Honestly, becoming a magical anomaly has added far too much stress to my life.”

Acheron ignored the comment entirely.

Also unsurprising.

He approached the center pedestal while silver-blue light slowly spread beneath his boots.

The shadows around the room began moving immediately, crawling across the walls like living ink.

Eva remained near the outer circle.

Mostly because every instinct she possessed insisted the center of the room was where terrible things happened.

Acheron faced her.

For several seconds, he simply watched her in silence.

That was becoming a problem.

Not because the staring itself bothered her.

Because she had started noticing things while he did it.

The tiny shifts in his expression.

The moments where his attention lingered too long.

The fact that his eyes darkened whenever she stood too close.

All deeply inconvenient observations.

“You survived direct contact with death,” he said finally.

Eva shrugged weakly.

“So far.”

“That should not be possible.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“The laws governing mortality are absolute.”

Eva tilted her head slightly.

“And yet here I am. Existing disrespectfully.”

The silver in his eyes flashed faintly.

Not irritation.

Something else.

That strange almost-amusement again.

Acheron extended one gloved hand slowly toward her.

“Come closer.”

Eva narrowed her eyes.

“That sounds like exactly the sort of request people regret.”

“You are already bound to me.”

“That sentence continues to make my skin crawl.”

But she stepped forward anyway.

Slowly.

Carefully.

The closer she moved toward him, the colder the room became.

The silver symbols beneath the floor began glowing brighter too, pulsing softly beneath her feet.

Acheron waited until she stood directly before him.

Too close again.

Always too close.

Eva could feel the cold radiating from him in waves now, but beneath it lingered something else.

Tension.

Not hers.

His.

Interesting.

Acheron removed one glove slowly.

The atmosphere in the chamber shifted instantly.

Silver cracks spread faintly beneath the pale skin of his hand, glowing like frozen lightning beneath ice.

Eva swallowed hard despite herself.

His bare skin felt wrong to look at.

Too still.

Too empty.

Like touching it would erase something fundamental.

Acheron lifted his hand toward her throat.

Eva’s pulse jumped sharply.

“That feels threatening.”

“It is necessary.”

“Wonderful.”

His fingers stopped inches from her skin.

Hesitation again.

There it was.

Small.

Barely visible.

But real.

Acheron hated touching her.

No.

Worse.

He wanted to.

Eva realized it at exactly the same moment his fingers brushed lightly against her throat.

The chamber exploded.

Silver fire erupted across the floor.

The chains hanging overhead rattled violently as power crashed through the room in massive waves. Frost burst outward beneath Eva’s feet—

And then shattered instantly.

Heat slammed through Acheron’s body hard enough that he physically staggered backward.

Eva gasped.

The contract marks beneath her skin flared bright silver.

And for the first time since entering the Underworld—

Death recoiled from her.

The shadows throughout the chamber pulled away violently from Eva’s body, retreating toward the walls like frightened animals.

Acheron stared at her.

Actually stared.

No composure now.

No control.

Shock.

Real shock.

The silver in his eyes burned bright blue.

“That,” Eva breathed, “cannot possibly be good.”

Acheron ignored her completely.

His gaze remained fixed on the place where his fingers had touched her throat.

Then slowly—

Very slowly—

His eyes lifted back to hers.

And beneath the terrible silence of the chamber—

His heartbeat returned.

Not once.

Not twice.

Steady.

Alive.

The sound echoed through the room like a curse.