Lucien arrived three days after the library incident.

Which, in Eva’s opinion, was deeply inconsiderate timing.

The emotional damage from nearly being touched tenderly by the Lord of Death had barely settled, and now apparently the Underworld had decided to introduce new problems.

The problem in question entered the palace at noon wearing silver armor and smiling like a man entirely too confident in his own survival chances.

Eva noticed him immediately.

Mostly because unlike everyone else in the palace, he walked toward Acheron without visible fear.

That alone made him alarming.

The great hall stood unusually crowded that afternoon. Palace guards lined the black marble walls while servants rushed between silver braziers carrying messages and ceremonial banners.

Apparently some kind of military delegation had returned from the outer sanctums.

Wonderful.

More terrifying immortal politics.

Eva sat near one of the enormous windows overlooking the silver river below, pretending to read while actually listening shamelessly to conversations around her.

A skill she had perfected by age twelve.

The massive palace doors opened.

Cold air swept through the hall.

And in walked Lucien.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Silver-haired in a completely different way than Acheron — warmer somehow, less severe. A long scar cut through one eyebrow, softening absolutely none of the dangerousness underneath.

Black armor curved tightly across his chest beneath a dark military coat lined with silver fur. Several palace guards visibly straightened when he entered.

Interesting.

Authority.

Not divine authority.

Earned authority.

Lucien removed his gloves while crossing the hall and laughed at something one of the guards muttered beside him.

Actually laughed.

In the Underworld.

Eva stared openly.

“Oh,” she murmured faintly. “One of them developed social skills.”

Unfortunately, Lucien heard her.

His head turned immediately.

Bright steel-gray eyes landed directly on Eva.

Then narrowed with visible interest.

Well.

That felt ominous immediately.

Lucien changed direction without hesitation and walked directly toward her corner of the hall.

Several servants nearby looked moments away from collapse.

Apparently approaching the mortal voluntarily qualified as deeply unsafe behavior now.

Interesting.

Lucien stopped beside her chair.

“You’re the fracture.”

Eva blinked once.

“…That is an incredibly rude introduction.”

His mouth twitched.

Not almost amusement like Acheron.

Actual amusement.

“I’m Lucien.”

“Eva. Allegedly responsible for interdimensional instability.”

Lucien laughed.

Actually laughed again.

The nearby servants looked horrified.

Good.

Someone in this palace needed emotional range.

Lucien glanced toward the book in her lap.

“You can read old Veil-script?”

Eva looked down at the open pages.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m losing a war against punctuation.”

Another laugh.

Warmer this time.

Easy.

Dangerously easy.

And somewhere across the hall—

The temperature dropped.

Eva felt it instantly.

Not metaphorically.

Actually dropped.

The silver flames along the walls flickered blue.

Several servants abruptly lowered their heads.

Ah.

Wonderful.

Acheron had arrived.

Lucien noticed too.

His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.

Respect.

Caution.

Not fear exactly.

But close enough.

The hall fell silent as Acheron crossed the marble floor toward them.

Black coat.

Silver shadows.

That terrifying stillness wrapped around him like armor.

Except today—

Something beneath it looked sharper.

The shadows around his feet moved violently across the floor.

Restless.

Agitated.

Eva suddenly had the deeply unfortunate realization that Acheron could probably hear Lucien laughing with her from across the hall.

Interesting.

Very, very dangerous.

Lucien leaned casually against the edge of the window alcove beside her.

“You didn’t mention the mortal was pretty,” he said lightly toward Acheron.

The entire hall stopped breathing.

Eva closed her eyes briefly.

“Oh no.”

Acheron stopped several feet away.

Too still.

Far too still.

The silver in his eyes had gone completely cold.

Not empty cold.

Violent cold.

Lucien noticed immediately.

The amusement faded slightly from his face.

Interesting.

Apparently even military commanders possessed survival instincts.

Acheron’s gaze settled first on Lucien.

Then slowly—

On Eva.

The heartbeat beneath the contract slammed once.

Hard.

The shadows across the marble floor spread sharply toward the alcove.

Possessive little monsters.

Lucien looked between them once.

Then slowly smiled.

Oh.

Oh, he understood.

That was bad.

Very bad.

“Well,” Lucien said casually, “this suddenly became fascinating.”

Acheron’s voice came dangerously quiet.

“You are dismissed from the western campaign?”

“Returned this morning.”

“And yet somehow already causing problems.”

Lucien grinned slightly.

“You say that like you’re not currently freezing the entire room.”

Eva glanced around.

Right.

The windows had literally frosted over.

Wonderful.

The servants nearby now looked seconds away from religious collapse.

Lucien folded his arms loosely.

“You never told us the contract changed your shadows.”

Acheron said nothing.

Lucien’s gaze dropped meaningfully toward the black tendrils slowly curling possessively around the leg of Eva’s chair.

Caught again.

The shadows immediately froze.

Eva bit the inside of her cheek hard to avoid laughing.

Lucien noticed that too.

His grin widened slightly.

“You’re hiding a mortal in your palace,” he said thoughtfully. “Your shadows follow her. The Court thinks you’re unstable.”

The silver in Acheron’s eyes darkened sharply.

“And yet here you stand.”

The warning beneath the sentence settled heavily across the hall.

Lucien remained entirely relaxed.

Interesting.

Either bravery or stupidity.

Possibly both.

Then, deliberately—

Lucien reached down and offered Eva his hand to help her stand.

The entire hall froze.

Eva stared at the offered hand.

Then slowly looked toward Acheron.

Oh.

Oh, this was catastrophic.

Because the Lord of Death had gone utterly motionless.

Not calm motionless.

Predator motionless.

The shadows throughout the hall stopped moving entirely.

Even the silver flames dimmed.

Lucien still held out his hand casually.

Waiting.

Testing.

Eva became abruptly aware that this was not about politeness anymore.

This was a challenge.

And Acheron knew it too.

The heartbeat beneath the contract pounded violently now.

Not hers.

His.

Eva slowly stood on her own instead.

Without taking Lucien’s hand.

The tension in the hall shifted instantly.

Lucien’s smile faded slightly.

Acheron’s shadows loosened fractionally around the floor.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Lucien looked between them again.

Then softly laughed under his breath.

“There it is,” he murmured.

Acheron’s voice turned lethal.

“Enough.”

The word echoed across the hall like a blade sliding free.

Lucien finally straightened.

For the first time since arriving, seriousness entered his expression.

“My Lord,” he said quietly, “the Court is already talking.”

“I do not care.”

“That’s the problem.”

Silence crashed through the hall.

Acheron’s gaze shifted toward Eva again.

And this time—

There was no mistaking what burned beneath the cold silver of his eyes.

Jealousy.

Ancient.

Possessive.

And absolutely furious about existing.