When Tessa finally gave up and stomped off—muttering curses and likely imagining multiple assassination scenarios—Selis sighed dramatically and tilted her head toward the stars.
"She’s so into you," she muttered, stamping the fire out from her shakoled slippers.
A branch above rustled with no warning.
Lucian dropped down beside her, as silent as a shadow. His armor barely clinked. His expression was unreadable.
"I have information," he said, voice low. "Erald’s whereabouts. A possible lead. We move when everyone is asleep."
Selis could only sigh.
Of course everything was a mission for him. Lucian could walk into a bakery and turn it into a battlefield.
Romance? Fun? A normal conversation? Forget it. If you weren’t a vampire he needed to slay, he had zero interest.
It was the reason they were here in this remote, fog-drenched town—sothing about a possible lead, a hidden nest of vampires, and, as usual, Lucian had thrown in so made-up side-objectives just so no one would question their presence.
"Reinforce regional safety," he had said with that blank stare that scread I don’t care if you die, but do it quietly.
Lucian hadn’t even ntioned Tessa’s dramatic outburst earlier. Didn’t comnt. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even spare a glance in the direction she’d stord off to.
Poor girl, Selis thought, as she watched him disappear into the trees again like a badly behaved wraith.
How do you fight for soone’s heart when they don’t even know they have one?
That night, while the rest of the squad rotated watch shifts around the forest camp, Selis and Lucian quietly slipped out. Cloaks on, hoods up, faces hidden—they moved like thieves in the dark.
"Can’t we just book an inn?" Selis whispered, peeking at the warm glow of a nearby tavern window. "Just once? Beds, pillows, maybe a bath? I’m like ninety percent forest gri at this point. I don’t know why we have to sleep in forest where there is a town here."
Lucian didn’t even look at her. "Did you skip logistics training?"
Selis pouted under her hood. "I . . . might have taken strategic napping instead."
Lucian stopped and turned slightly. Even with his face mostly hidden, she could feel the judgnt radiating off him.
"We divide our forces," he explained flatly. "So stay in town to protect the people. Others remain outside to guard the periter and respond quickly if there’s an attack."
"Oh. So, technically, shouldn’t our group be the one inside the inn?"
"Comfort breeds weakness."
Selis stared at him, aghast. "That’s what you got from the handbook?"
"I don’t need a handbook."
"Of course not. You are the handbook."
They continued in silence as Selis stumbled over a tree root and nearly face-planted. Lucian didn’t react. Again.
She scrambled back up. "We’re gonna get fleas."
"Better than getting soft."
She muttered sothing about wanting to get soft safely on a mattress with hot soup and no mosquitoes but Lucian had already vanished into the shadows again, scouting ahead.
Selis trudged after him, cape dragging mud and dignity behind her.
At this point, she wasn’t even sure if she was training to be a hunter . . . or just building trauma immunity with extra steps.
The next thing Selis knew, she was being dragged into the dusty basent of so inconspicuous house that looked like it hadn’t seen a mop—or a vampire hunter—in a decade.
"Wait, where are we?" she whispered, still half out of breath from the ridiculous sprint Lucian had pulled her into. "Why do all our secret etings take place in locations that sll like mold and dump earth?"
Lucian ignored her usual complaints and approached an old man sitting behind a cluttered desk, stacks of parchnt piled like little mountains of forgotten history.
"This is the map of the inner cathedral," the old man said, voice raspy, eyes sharp despite his age. "I can’t guarantee it’s still accurate . . . They might’ve changed the sanctum’s layout, but this is the original design."
Selis blinked. Hold on . . . The guy looked like soone’s retired math teacher who also happened to moonlight as a conspiracy theorist. And he had the map to one of the most sacred—and most secret—places in the world, the inner sanctum of the heavily protected cathedral.
Apparently, Lucian had tracked down the descendant of the original architect who helped design the inner sanctum of the cathedral.
The man had gone underground, living off the grid for decades to avoid being silenced or glamoured into eternal silence.
Sohow, Lucian had managed to find him using whatever sorcery, bribery, or sheer intimidation he kept in his back pocket.
"If you’re looking for an important hostage," the old man continued, pointing to a specific section of the cathedral floor plan, "then this is the most probable location—deep inside the sanctum, through a maze of prayer halls and hidden chambers."
Selis leaned closer, jaw slack. The detail in the map was unreal—secret tunnels, false walls, hidden doors. Her precious sewer map that she’d so proudly stolen from the Grand Library now looked like a kid’s crayon doodle in comparison.
"This is . . . unbelievable," Selis whispered, eyes wide as she stared at the dusty old blueprint laid out across the rickety table. "Lucian, you really found this old man—and this ancient map of the cathedral?"
"I’ve been searching for him for years," Lucian said, his voice low, almost reverent, as if he were staring at a long-lost holy relic and not so wrinkly grandpa hiding in a basent filled with mothballs and conspiracy theories.
Selis blinked. "Wait. Years? I only told you about Erald six months ago."
Lucian didn’t respond.
Her eyes narrowed. "You were already looking for this woman long before then?"
Still no answer.
She leaned in, squinting suspiciously. "Don’t tell this has nothing to do with Erald and you’re just secretly obsessed with cathedral architecture?"
Lucian glanced away, busying himself with the map. Very intensely.
"Oh my God," Selis gasped. "You’ve known Erald way before, haven’t you?"
The air tensed. Even the old man paused in mid-tea sip.
Lucian stayed silent.
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