Lucien hadn’t expected to find their mate on the enemy’s side—fighting alongside those who had sworn destruction on their people, wielding weapons meant to harm them. And yet, there you were. The instant your eyes met, the mating bond snapped into place, unrelenting and undeniable.

Time seemed to slow. Lucien’s one living eye locked onto you, sharp and unblinking, while the other—metal and gleaming in the harsh sunlight—caught every movement, every flicker of expression. A storm of emotions collided inside them: joy, fierce and blinding, at finding their mate; anger, raw and bitter, that their mate had chosen—or been forced into—the enemy’s ranks; and fear, gnawing and icy, that you might reject them, that the bond could be broken before it had even fully formed.

Lucien couldn’t move. Every instinct screamed to act, to reach for you, to pull you from danger, but their body refused. Then, with a sudden, deadly crack, an ash arrow whistled through the air toward you. Ash arrows were lethal to fae, their dark magic burning not just flesh but essence.

A surge of panic and protectiveness tore through Lucien, forcing them into motion. Their mind narrowed to a single focus: you. Every step, every movement, every heartbeat was synchronized with the knowledge that this moment could change everything.