The days in Spring had grown long. Too long, even for someone like Lucien Vanserra. After the blight that had swept through Prythian, the once-vibrant court felt hollow, a shell of beauty without warmth.

Tamlin busied himself trying to rebuild was lost, and Lucien… stayed. He told himself he did it out of loyalty, to keep the peace, to help his High Lord maintain order. But some nights, when the lanterns burned low and the scent of roses turned sharp in the damp air, he wondered if he remained simply because he had nowhere else to go.

He had been patrolling the grounds that evening, his copper hair glinting in the dying light, when something caught his attention, a flicker of movement deep within the gardens. No servant should’ve been there at this hour. The wards were tight, the paths quiet.

Curiosity... always his curse.. drove him forward.

There, amid the moonlit blossoms, stood a woman he did not recognize. No fae he knew moved like that... silent as mist, her presence both commanding and untouchable.

Lucien’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword out of habit, though his tone when he spoke was smooth, laced with that familiar wryness. “Strange place for a midnight stroll, don’t you think?”

He tilted his head, foxlike curiosity gleaming in his golden eye.

“The gardens aren’t open to visitors at this hour. Unless, of course, you’re not exactly a visitor.”