Evelyn POV The heavy iron key ground against the lock before Evelyn could wipe the silver fruit knife clean on her wool skirt.Three seconds.She jammed the blade beneath the horsehair cushion of her vanity stool, shoved the boar-bristle brush deep into her sewing basket, and turned her back to the door.The bolt shot back with a heavy, metallic crunch that echoed off the stone walls.Cassian walked in.He smelled of wet horse leather, clove tea, and the faint, dusty scent of old paper from the council chambers. His black calfskin boots were polished to a mirror shine, but the heels were flecked with wet grey street mud."Still sitting in the dark, Evelyn?"His voice was low and smooth, thick with an artificial concern that made her stomach twist into a knot.Evelyn forced her shoulders to slump. She dropped her chin, letting her unwashed hair fall forward over her face like a shroud. She had to look shattered. She had to look like the ghost-shapes in her room had finally scraped out

Cale POVBehind the carved iron screen, the heavy oak desk felt as cold as ice under Cale’s palms.He stared down at the blood-platinum brooch sitting on the dark grain. It was heavy, unpolished Northern metal, still wet with river silt and smeared with a black grease mark from Evelyn’s trembling fingers."You wish to put a price on the King's son?"The arcana charm clipped to his collar carried his words through the iron lattice, distorting his voice into a hollow, metallic rasp that stripped away every trace of human warmth.Across the screen, Evelyn didn't flinch. She stood in the dim yellow tallow light, her ruined dress clinging to her ribs, her dark hair dripping filthy sewer water onto his floorboards. She was shivering so violently he could hear her teeth clicking together, but her chin remained lifted, her eyes wide and blazing with a cold, terrifying clarity.For the first time in three years, Cale forgot to breathe.He had spent three weeks weaving shadow optics into her va

Evelyn POV "Oh dear Cassian, let's play a game."Evelyn whispered the words into the quiet dark of her dressing room, her voice a feather-light hum against the cold glass of her silvered mirror.On the oak sideboard sat a silver tray holding a stoneware bowl of boiled pheasant broth and a pewter goblet filled to the brim with warm, dark spiced wine. Beside it stood Martha, her face deathly pale, her hands trembling as she adjusted the linen cloth over the pewter cup."The wolfsbane is in the wine, my lady," Martha whispered, her voice barely a thread of sound, her eyes wide with lingering terror. "Two drops, just as you ordered. It smells of nothing but cloves.""Good," Evelyn said softly. She turned slowly from the mirror, her dark skirts rustling against the stone floor. She reached into her apron pocket, her fingers brushing the cool, flat metal of the silver flask containing the antidote. "Take the tray to the South Annex. Ensure the corridors are clear. Leave it on his bedside t

The cold stone of the lower crypts hummed with a suffocating, dead dampness. Down in the eastern vault, Cale lay sprawled on a slab of black marble, draped in white mourning linen. His skin was the color of curdled milk, his lips fixed in a dark violet stain. To anyone looking at him, he was nothing more than a fallen imperial prince awaiting his final rites. In the dark shadows behind a massive pillar, Lyra crouched low, her chest heaving, her palm pressed flat over her mouth to stifle her ragged breaths. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs like a trapped bird. Inside her leather tunic, tucked into a padded pouch, sat the single glass vial containing the counter-draught. Ninety-five minutes, she thought, her eyes wide with terror as she tracked the invisible hourglass in her mind. He took the draught at dawn. We have twenty-five minutes before his heart stops permanently. Twenty-five minutes before his mind burns out. She was supposed to reach him ten minutes ago. But

Cassian POVThe grand mahogany door to the royal study didn't just close behind Cassian, it slammed with a heavy, hollow thud that echoed the frantic pounding in his ribs.He didn't bother locking it. His hands were shaking too violently to fit the iron key into the keyhole.Cassian stumbled toward the sideboard, snatching a crystal decanter of amber brandy. He didn't bother with a glass. He threw his head back, taking three long, burning gulps straight from the glass lip, uncaring of the liquor that spilled over his chin and ruined the silk collar of his tunic. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it did nothing to quench the icy claw of panic clutching his stomach.Three days.He had given Lady Evelyn three days to sign the emergency proxy, to surrender the Vane estate’s vast northern iron mines to the royal treasury. But three days felt like an eternity when the wolves were already pounding on his front door."Fools," Cassian hissed into the quiet, dim room, wiping his mouth wi