Cassian wanted to wait for darkness. Evelyn counted the guards inside Blackpine and knew Noah did not have that long. Lucian had arranged the scene for her: the open gate, the visible prisoner, the empty western tower. It was a trap designed by a man certain she would choose family over caution. He was right. “If I approach alone, he will keep watching me,” she said. “Your guards can circle through the ravine.” Cassian’s expression became stone. “Lucian coated that blade in silver.” “Then make sure he never gets to use it.” For several breaths king and healer measured each other. At last Cassian handed her a small black vial.
“Crush it if he forces you to your knees,” he said. “The smoke will hide you for ten seconds.” Evelyn closed her fingers around the vial. “And if ten seconds are not enough?” His gaze dropped to the bright mark at her collarbone. “Call my name.” The words sounded less like strategy than a vow. Evelyn descended the ridge with both hands visible. Lucian smiled when she entered the yard. Noah struggled beneath the sack, but two guards held his shoulders. “My runaway bride returns wearing another man’s scent,” Lucian said. “Did you think spreading your legs for a stranger would make you powerful?”
Shame tried to rise. Evelyn refused it. “No. But watching you hide behind my brother made me understand how small you are.” Several soldiers looked away. Lucian’s smile vanished. He removed Noah’s hood. Her brother’s face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, yet he managed a crooked grin. “You should see the other six,” he said. Relief almost broke her. Lucian pressed the blade beneath Noah’s jaw. “Remove the suppression mark,” he ordered. “Give me the Blood Moon power your mother stole, and I may let him keep breathing.” Evelyn stared at him. “You knew about my mother.”
“She served my father until she confused service with freedom.” Lucian spoke casually, but fear sharpened his scent. “She hid the royal seal inside you. We spent years keeping it asleep while you played healer.” Memories rearranged themselves: the bitter tonic his physician delivered every full moon, Lucian insisting it treated her headaches, his panic whenever she skipped a dose. He had not considered her useless. He had kept her close because she was a locked weapon. “Where is she?” Evelyn asked. Lucian’s eyes flicked toward the ground before he answered. “Dead.” Luma growled. A lie.
Evelyn crushed Cassian’s vial. Black smoke swallowed the yard. Noah dropped flat as she had taught him during childhood games. Evelyn lunged, caught Lucian’s wrist, and drove her knee into his ribs. The silver blade sliced her palm. Fire raced through her blood, but instead of weakening her it erupted outward. Every shifted guard crashed to the earth, forced human by a command Evelyn did not know she had given. Cassian’s warriors poured over the walls. Steel rang in the smoke. Lucian shifted into a massive gray wolf and sprang for Evelyn’s throat.
She called Cassian’s name. A black Lycan collided with Lucian in midair. Cassian’s beast was larger than any wolf Evelyn had imagined, his fur dark as a moonless forest and his eyes silver-blue. He pinned Lucian but did not tear out his throat. “Yield before the Blood Moon witness,” Cassian commanded. The Alpha twisted free by driving a hidden silver spike into Cassian’s shoulder. Then Seraphina appeared on the tower with a crossbow aimed at Noah. Lucian used the distraction to flee through the eastern gate. Seraphina fired. Evelyn flung up her bleeding hand, and silver flame turned the bolt to ash.
Seraphina did not look surprised. She touched two fingers to her stomach, then mouthed a word Evelyn could not hear before disappearing behind the wall. Cassian shifted back, one hand pressed to the wound in his shoulder. Evelyn ran to him, but he nodded toward Noah first. Her brother was alive. She cut his bonds, hugged him hard, and asked what Seraphina had said. Noah’s face went pale. “She said, ‘Below.’ Then she pointed at the old well.” Cassian’s guards searched it and found an iron ladder hidden beneath the waterline.
The tunnel below Blackpine smelled of damp stone and dried wolfsbane. Cells lined the passage. Most were empty, but the final door bore the same crescent carved into Evelyn’s skin. From behind it came the faint sound of a woman singing the lullaby Evelyn remembered from before the sanctuary fire. Her mother’s lullaby. Evelyn reached for the lock. A chain tightened in the dark, and a thin voice whispered, “Do not open it, Evie. Lucian did not imprison me to keep me in.” Silver eyes appeared through the slot. “He imprisoned me to keep what is wearing my face from getting out.” It sounded horribly afraid.