CHAPTER 201: THE NIGHT ITSELF TREMBLING

Her stomach twisted. "You know something."

Rowan hesitated. He glanced at Lucien then, and for the first time Liora saw hesitation—not hostility, not mockery, but restraint. As though he stood on the edge of a precipice, measuring the fall.

Lucien’s voice cut through like steel.

"Say it, Rowan."

Rowan pushed away from the wall, his expression darkening. "If I speak, there’s no undoing it. She’ll be in as deep as we are."

"She already is," Lucien said, eyes flicking to Liora with something unreadable. "They came for her too."

The words sent a cold shiver down her spine. She wanted to deny it, to cling to the belief that she was nothing more than collateral. But deep down, she knew better.

Rowan exhaled, slow and reluctant.

"Then understand this, Liora. What binds me to him..." He inclined his head at Lucien... isn’t loyalty. It isn’t friendship. It’s blood. And betrayal."

Her breath caught. "Blood...?"

Lucien’s gaze darkened, but he said nothing.

Rowan’s voice dropped lower, every word deliberate.

"The same hand that destroyed his name tried to end mine. The same web that made him a scapegoat has hunted me from the shadows. And now..." His eyes flicked toward the shattered doorway where the attackers had spilled through. "...now it hunts you too."

Liora’s fingers tightened around the dagger. The room seemed smaller, the shadows closer. The attack had ended, but the war had only just stepped into the light.

Lucien’s voice was calm when he spoke again, but beneath it throbbed a dangerous promise.

"Then it’s decided. We move together from this point on."

And though Rowan’s lips twisted as if the words tasted bitter, he gave a single, sharp nod.

Liora realized, with a clarity that shook her, that whatever secrets bound these two men had just claimed her as well

The men didn’t stop coming.

Every time one fell, another slipped through the ruined doorway or dropped from the shadows above. The floor was slick with blood, but their resolve didn’t falter. Whoever had sent them clearly hadn’t expected Lucien and Rowan to be cornered together, yet they had planned for a massacre, not a warning.

Lucien spun, blade flashing, and another mercenary went down clutching his throat. Rowan drove his dagger into a man’s ribs with a grunt, then leaned against the wall for a moment, his breath ragged.

Liora pressed her palm harder to his shoulder, crimson seeping through her fingers. Too deep. Too fast.

"We won’t hold them long like this," Lucien muttered, his voice low but edged. His hair was damp with sweat, his tunic torn. "They’re throwing bodies at us."

"They mean to trap us," Rowan rasped. "Bleed us out in here."

Liora’s gaze darted to the cracked walls and smoke drifting in from somewhere above. The safehouse was a tomb waiting to close around them.

"Then we don’t stay," she said sharply, surprising them both. "We cut our way out."

Lucien’s eyes snapped to hers. In the midst of chaos, he looked at her, truly looked, and she felt the weight of his judgment. A flicker of something unreadable passed in his gaze.

Rowan gave a half-laugh, bitter and pained. "The lady has more sense than either of us. Lucien...?"

The prince’s jaw clenched. "We move."

The next surge of attackers poured in, four this time, heavier armored and trained differently than the fodder before. Not common thugs. Testers.

Lucien lunged at the first, steel meeting steel with a ringing clash. Rowan ducked the second, driving his blade under the man’s arm. Liora had no weapon but instinct and desperation. She grabbed a broken shard of wood from the splintered table and rammed it into the thigh of the soldier aiming for Rowan. He howled, staggering.

Lucien pivoted to cover her side, blade sweeping in a deadly arc that left the last mercenary writhing on the ground.

For a breath, the room was silent save for their gasps.

Rowan leaned heavier into her. "That exit... the passage." His words were strained, but he nodded toward the stairwell buried in shadow. "We reach it, we live."

Lucien’s gaze darted that way, calculating. Then, without warning, he dropped his blade into his left hand and scooped Liora and Rowan both toward the narrow corridor, shielding them with his own body.

Steel rang behind them as more men closed in.

The three of them stumbled down the stairwell into choking dark.

Liora’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as stone swallowed them whole, the weight of earth pressing close. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, and only felt Rowan’s blood hot against her palm and Lucien’s unyielding grip at her arm as he dragged them forward.

The safehouse above thundered with shouts and boots.

But in the silence of the passage, Lucien’s voice cut low, sharp, and sure.

"They want me erased. They won’t stop. And now..." his gaze shifted briefly toward Liora, his tone hardening, "...they’ll want you too."

Smoke still curled from the ruined trees, the night air heavy with the metallic sting of blood. The assassins’ bodies lay strewn across the clearing, silent reminders that the attack was not random; it had been calculated.

Lucien stood rigid, cloak torn and blade dripping, his light blue eyes catching what little moonlight pierced through the smoke. He didn’t look at Liora or Rowan. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the horizon, as though the darkness itself was another enemy waiting to strike.

"Two groups," Rowan muttered, crouching near a corpse. His hands were steady as he pulled a dagger free, wiping it clean on the assassin’s tunic. "The first drew us out. The second went for the kill."

Liora hugged her shawl tighter, forcing her breathing to slow. Her heart hammered from both fear and something she couldn’t name, an ache that came from watching Lucien fight as though the world rested on his blade.

"Who sent them?" she asked, her voice softer than she meant.

Lucien finally turned. His eyes narrowed at Rowan. "You tell her."

Rowan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He rose to his feet and faced her directly. "This was no rogue band. These are crows. Hired blades that work only under the queen dowager’s silent approval."

Liora’s breath hitched. "The Queen Dowager?" Her voice cracked on the title.

Rowan nodded grimly. "And if she allowed this, it means someone whispered poison in her ear. Someone who benefits if you disappear."

Lucien’s voice cut through the silence. "It’s not just her. The king has enemies circling his throne, and I’m the scapegoat they prefer to use. My disgrace was convenient for them, but keeping me alive is no longer necessary." His hand brushed against his torn sleeve, crimson staining his fingers. "Tonight was a message. Next time, they won’t miss."

The weight of his words pressed down on all of them. Liora swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to speak, but Rowan’s sharp glance stopped her.

Instead, Rowan stepped forward, speaking low and urgently. "If we’re to survive, we need to move together. That means no secrets. Not from me, not from her." He looked at Lucien pointedly. "Especially not from you."

For the first time that night, Lucien’s expression cracked, fury flashing, then fading to something colder. His gaze shifted briefly to Liora, lingering long enough for her to feel it in her bones, before he answered.

"You’ll get your answers when it suits me. Not before."

The words stung. Not just for Rowan, but for her.

Before either could argue further, a sound carried through the ruined forest. A horn, distant, but closing in. The low, mournful call of pursuit.

Rowan stiffened. "Reinforcements. They won’t give us long."

Lucien’s eyes hardened, his decision made. "Then we make a pact here and now. Whether you like it or not, we move as one. You keep your blades sharp, Rowan. And you..." His eyes locked with Liora’s, searing through her hesitation. "You stay alive. No matter what you feel, no matter what you fear, you survive. Do you understand?"

Her throat tightened, but she nodded. "...I understand."

The horn sounded again, closer now, the night itself trembling with its warning.

Lucien raised his sword, the steel catching a glint of moonlight. "Good. Then let’s make them regret ever thinking we were prey."

The storm outside had finally ebbed into silence, but inside the chamber, tension still rattled the air like steel drawn too tightly across a whetstone.

Liora’s pulse hadn’t yet calmed. Her body ached from the sudden, relentless fight. Rowan had slumped against the wall, pressing a bloodied hand against his ribs, but his eyes were sharp, ever-watchful, studying every flicker of Lucien’s expression.

Lucien stood, unflinching, his breathing controlled, gaze locked on the closed doors. His fingers flexed slightly, as if ready for another strike should the need arise.

"You should have told me," Liora’s voice broke the silence at last, quiet but steady.

Lucien’s eyes finally shifted to her, the storm in them refusing to soften. "Told you what?"

"That this wasn’t just about your disgrace. Or your ex-wife. Or even Alden. This..." she gestured toward the fallen bodies strewn across the floor "...this is something much bigger. And you’ve kept me in the dark."

Rowan gave a bitter laugh, his voice dripping with mockery. "That’s Lucien Blackthorne for you. Secrets piled on secrets until they choke him. Until they choke everyone else around him."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "Watch your tongue."

Rowan ignored him, eyes sliding toward Liora. "Do you really think you were sent here as some punishment? Do you think Alden, or the Queen Dowager, or anyone else, merely wanted to bury you in shame alongside him? No, Lady Miral. You were placed here because you’re a piece in this game, whether you wish it or not."