After the revelation about the contract, the palace stopped feeling merely dangerous.

Now it felt temporary.

Every corridor Eva walked through carried the same terrible thought beneath it: one day she might not remember any of this.

Not the silver river beneath the palace.

Not the white roses in the hidden garden.

Not even why the sight of Acheron standing too close could suddenly make her pulse lose all sense of dignity.

The forgetting had slowed since that night in the throne hall, but it had not stopped.

That was worse somehow.

Every moment of clarity now carried fear beneath it.

How long until this disappeared too?

The thought followed her constantly.

Which was exactly why she hated herself for noticing Acheron more than ever.

He had become impossible to ignore lately.

Not emotionally.

Physically.

The Underworld itself reacted to him differently now.

The shadows grew restless whenever she entered a room beside him. The silver flames throughout the palace dimmed when his mood darkened. Even the servants had started exchanging nervous glances whenever he looked at her too long.

And he always looked too long now.

Three days after the contract revelation, Eva found herself dragged directly into Underworld politics entirely against her will.

Again.

The Court assembly began before dusk.

Massive silver bells echoed throughout the palace while nobles flooded the upper halls in dark ceremonial robes and armor. The atmosphere felt sharp tonight, tense enough that even the servants whispered more quietly than usual.

Eva stood near one of the towering windows outside the assembly chamber while palace attendants adjusted silver banners along the walls.

Lucien appeared beside her carrying two wine glasses.

“You look unhappy,” he observed casually.

Eva accepted one of the glasses immediately.

“I live in a kingdom built on trauma and emotional repression. Happiness feels unrealistic.”

Lucien laughed softly.

Unlike most immortals in the palace, he laughed easily. The sound still startled her every time.

“You’re adapting surprisingly well.”

“That’s because my survival instincts stopped functioning weeks ago.”

Lucien leaned one shoulder against the marble wall beside her.

The military commander looked less formal tonight. His silver armor had been replaced with dark court clothing, though several scars remained visible near his throat and hands beneath the candlelight.

“Word from the lower sanctums says the fracture worsened again this morning,” he said quietly.

Eva’s stomach tightened immediately.

The contract beneath her wrist pulsed once.

Cold.

Hungry.

“Does the Court know why?”

Lucien glanced toward the closed assembly doors.

“They think they do.”

That answer unsettled her instantly.

Before she could ask more, the palace atmosphere shifted sharply.

The corridor temperature dropped.

Several servants lowered their heads immediately.

Acheron approached from the far end of the hall surrounded by moving shadows and absolute silence.

The moment he appeared, every conversation nearby died instantly.

Lucien straightened slightly beside her.

Interesting.

Respect again.

Not fear exactly.

But close.

Acheron’s silver eyes landed first on Lucien.

Then on the wine glass in Eva’s hand.

Then slowly back on Lucien.

The shadows along the corridor floor twisted sharply.

Oh no.

Not again.

Lucien noticed too.

A faint grin touched the corner of his mouth.

Apparently he enjoyed provoking death gods recreationally.

Terrible hobby.

“My Lord,” Lucien greeted smoothly.

Acheron stopped directly in front of them.

Too close again.

Always too close.

The warmth beneath the contract stirred instantly beneath Eva’s skin.

“She should not be drinking before Court,” Acheron said evenly.

Eva stared at him.

“This is wine, not poison.”

Lucien looked openly entertained now.

“She only took two sips.”

Acheron’s gaze shifted toward him again.

The silver flames along the corridor dimmed visibly.

Interesting.

The palace really needed healthier emotional boundaries.

Eva crossed her arms.

“You know, most people simply say hello before becoming aggressively territorial.”

Silence followed.

Lucien bit back a laugh badly enough that his shoulders actually moved.

Acheron ignored him entirely.

Which somehow made the tension worse.

The assembly doors opened then with a low grinding sound.

Nobles began filing slowly into the chamber beyond while whispers spread rapidly through the corridor.

Eva immediately noticed something different tonight.

People kept looking at her.

Not ordinary curiosity.

Calculation.

The kind politicians used before wars.

Wonderful.

Exactly the sort of attention she wanted.

Inside the chamber, the atmosphere felt heavier than usual.

The Court tiers filled quickly beneath towering silver chandeliers while dark-robed gods and nobles took their seats in careful silence. The enormous black throne stood elevated above the chamber floor, shadows moving restlessly around its base.

Eva followed Acheron toward the lower platform.

The whispers started immediately.

“She grows stronger beside him.”

“The shadows obey her presence.”

“The fracture deepens whenever they remain together.”

Eva kept her expression neutral despite the cold knot tightening in her stomach.

Ah.

So this was the problem now.

Not merely the contract.

Influence.

The Court feared what she was becoming to him.

Lady Seraphine rose first from the eastern tier.

Her silver eyes looked colder tonight.

“The lower veil destabilized again before dawn,” she announced calmly. “Three sanctums reported shadow migration tied directly to the throne bond.”

Eva frowned slightly.

Throne bond?

That sounded deeply concerning.

Another noble stood sharply.

“The mortal’s presence alters palace law itself.”

“The shadows respond to her emotions,” someone added.

“That has never happened before.”

Murmurs spread across the chamber.

Eva became painfully aware that every discussion somehow circled back toward her.

Acheron remained seated on the throne above them all, expression unreadable.

Too unreadable.

Lucien stood several steps behind the throne platform now, arms folded loosely while observing the Court with visible irritation.

Vael rose next.

Of course he did.

“The matter is no longer personal,” he said coldly. “The mortal influences the throne directly.”

Eva’s pulse tightened.

Something in the room shifted at those words.

Not fear.

Power.

The nobles were not debating whether she belonged here anymore.

They were debating whether she could change him.

Acheron’s shadows spread slowly across the chamber floor.

Dangerous sign.

Vael continued carefully.

“The throne of death must remain untouched by mortal attachment.”

The heartbeat beneath the contract slammed once.

Hard.

Several nobles immediately fell silent.

Eva looked upward instinctively.

Acheron had not moved.

But the silver in his eyes had darkened sharply.

The shadows beneath the throne twisted violently outward like restrained storms.

Vael noticed too late.

“The Court cannot allow—”

“You presume authority you do not possess.”

Acheron’s voice cut cleanly across the chamber.

Quiet.

Controlled.

Terrifying.

Every noble in the room froze instantly.

The shadows throughout the Court stopped moving.

Even the chandeliers dimmed.

Acheron rose slowly from the throne.

The pressure filling the chamber became almost unbearable.

Not magical exactly.

Ancient.

The kind of presence that reminded everyone in the room why death eventually claimed all kingdoms.

Eva watched the Court carefully then.

And suddenly understood something important.

The nobles did not truly fear her influence over Acheron.

They feared what happened if the Lord of Death started wanting something enough to defy the balance of the Underworld itself.

Acheron descended the throne steps slowly.

One by one.

Until he stood directly beside Eva.

The entire Court watched in absolute silence.

Then, without looking away from the gathered nobles, Acheron reached out and rested one gloved hand lightly against the back of Eva’s chair.

The reaction was immediate.

The shadows across the chamber surged violently toward the throne platform.

Possessive.

Protective.

Alive.

Gasps echoed across the Court tiers.

Someone whispered a prayer beneath their breath.

Eva forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Because the gesture itself was small.

Almost nothing.

But politically—

It was catastrophic.

Acheron’s silver eyes swept slowly across the chamber.

“If any among you believes the throne weakened,” he said quietly, “you are welcome to test the theory.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed too loudly.

And suddenly Eva understood something terrifying:

The Court feared Acheron because he ruled death.

But tonight—

For the first time—

They feared what he might destroy for her.