Lucien woke early.

  Too early.

  Sunlight slipped through the narrow window in pale bands, catching dust in the air and warming the stone at the edge of the room. His body felt… lighter. Not healed—not fully—but rested in a way he hadn’t felt since before the trial.

  He lay still, staring at the ceiling, unsettled by it.

  Rest.

  Real rest.

  And then—quietly, embarrassingly—he understood why.

  The dream clung to him like warmth after a fire. Moonlight spilling over grass. Soft laughter. A presence beside him that hadn’t vanished when he reached for it.

  He exhaled sharply and sat up, rubbing his face.

  “Get a grip,” he muttered.

  He dressed more carefully than usual, smoothing his tunic, tying back his curls with deliberate fingers. His gaze drifted to the Sword of Truth resting near the bed—steel catching the light, patient.

  Not today.

  He left it behind.

  The courtyard outside the men’s quarters was already alive with sound—footsteps, clashing steel, distant laughter. The air smelled of stone, oil, and early bread.

  And there she was.

  Alicia stood near the training grounds, rapier resting casually against her shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. Sunlight threaded through her silver hair, catching in it like trapped starlight. When she turned at the sound of his steps, her eyes brightened.

  “There you are,” she said. “We still sparring?”

  Lucien smiled faintly. “Good morning to you too.”

  She laughed. “I got sidetracked yesterday. Valor stole all my glory.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “He hasn’t stopped talking about your fight. Athena dragged him into the ring this morning just to shut him up.”

  Before Lucien could reply—

  “Lucien!”

  The voice was musical. Familiar.

  He turned just as Luna emerged behind him, vivid as a spill of wine against pale stone.

  She wore red and white today—light silk that moved with her, cut just short enough to tease, a wide sun hat perched neatly atop her pale hair. Red slippers flashed beneath the hem of her dress, toes painted to match her lips. A small coin pouch rested at her hip.

  She didn’t look at Alicia.

  Not once.

  Instead, she looped her arm through Lucien’s and tugged him forward.

  “We’re late,” Luna said brightly. “The city won’t shop itself.”

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  Lucien blinked—then laughed helplessly as she dragged him away.

  “Sorry!” he called over his shoulder. “I promised—let’s spar tonight, before dinner?”

  Alicia stood still for a long moment.

  Then she nodded politely.

  When Lucien disappeared down the street, she clicked her tongue.

  “Figures.”

  She turned—and nearly collided with Dialos and Elenor mid-spar.

  “…Can I join?” Alicia asked.

  They stared.

  Then nodded.

  The city smelled like life.

  Hot bread and citrus oil. Roasted meats and spiced wine. Metal and cloth and perfume. Sunlight reflected off banners and polished stone, turning narrow streets into rivers of color.

  Luna talked the entire way.

  About fabrics. About which stalls cheated tourists. About the baker who hid extra sugar in his loaves.

  Lucien slowly realized this wasn’t wandering—it was a path she had planned.

  So he listened.

  Really listened.

  She noticed.

  She moved closer.

  They ate from street vendors, laughing when sauce dripped down Lucien’s fingers. Luna crouched to feed a stray cat, whispering softly as it wound around her ankle. In the first clothing shop, she tried on dress after dress—velvet, silk, linen—spinning, demanding his opinion each time.

  “You’re biased,” she accused when he liked all of them.

  “Or you’re difficult to criticize,” he said.

  She smirked.

  Then it was his turn.

  She shoved him into clothes he couldn’t afford, adjusting collars, stepping far too close on purpose. He caught himself thinking—briefly—about buying something for his mother.

  “You should dress like a royal,” Luna said, hands on her hips. “You already look like one.”

  Lucien almost argued.

  Almost.

  Instead, he let himself be something else.

  On the walk back, the sun dipped low, staining the city gold. Lucien and his detached shadow carried bags between them like mirror images.

  Luna slowed.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask,” she said casually.

  He waited.

  “You mentioned my mother’s hero,” she continued. “You said he took something precious from you.”

  Lucien swallowed.

  “…She was my first.”

  Luna stopped.

  The city noise softened around them.

  “Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Lucien said. “We were too far from home.”

  She stepped closer, expression unguarded now.

  “My mother was human once,” Luna said. “She won the trial. She could’ve asked for anything.”

  Lucien listened.

  “She chose immortality,” Luna continued. “Not power. Not dominion. Just… time. To love him forever.”

  Her fingers curled in her skirt.

  “He was her knight. A demon who ran from his kind. She pushed him to join the next trial—to stand beside her as her second hero.” Her voice cracked. “He won.”

  Lucien frowned. “But—”

  “The trial didn’t choose him,” Luna said. “It killed him instead.”

  She looked away. “That was twenty years ago. The last failed trial. The same day I was born.”

  Lucien placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sure he’d be proud of you.”

  Her eyes shimmered. “I’m only doing this for my mother,” she whispered. “But I don’t want to be her weapon forever.”

  “Then you have time,” Lucien said. “To find your own reason.”

  She smiled weakly. “Maybe I’ll wish to be your next lover.”

  Lucien chuckled softly. “There she is.”

  They parted at the quarters.

  “See you at dinner,” Luna said brightly.

  Lucien watched her go.

  Then—

  Voices.

  He paused.

  Leon.

  Laughing with a Celestial knight. Another nearby. Then another. Easy smiles. Familiar nods.

  Lucien hesitated… then slipped briefly into shadow.

  Nothing suspicious. Routes. Training gossip. Contestants to watch.

  Harmless.

  Still—

  Unease lingered.

  That evening, Lucien sparred Alicia.

  She won.

  Or he let her.

  “I didn’t see the fight,” Alicia said afterward, breathing hard. “But I saw the ground. The scorch marks. The way people talked. This wasn’t anywhere close to that.” Frustration edged her voice.

  Lucien shrugged. “It took more out of me than I expected. I need a couple more days of rest.”

  She studied him.

  Then changed the subject.

  “Do you like Luna?”

  He hesitated. “She’s my competition. Like you. And… my friend.”

  Alicia nodded slowly. “Then heal. I’ll fight others while I wait for you.”

  “Dinner?” he asked, now starving.

  “I thought you would never ask,” she replied.

  They walked inside together.

  And above them—

  The city watched.