The heavens had apparently decided that today was the perfect day to ruin Lucian's life.
It had started with a perfectly normal mission—escort Eva to the neighboring village for some diplomatic nonsense. Simple. Routine. No swords, no assassination attempts, no Magnus breathing down his neck.
Then the storm rolled in.
Not a light drizzle. Oh no.
A full-blown, earth-shaking, lightning-cracking, trees-snapping-in-half storm.
Which is how Lucian Valemont, knight of the realm, deadly with a sword, and the king's most trusted warrior, found himself trapped inside a tiny, one-room cottage with her.
Eva.
Who was currently glaring at him like he had personally angered the gods.
"This is your fault," she declared, arms crossed, soaked curls clinging to her face.
Lucian, equally drenched, leaned against the wooden door they had just barely managed to shut against the storm. "Oh? Did I summon the storm, Your Highness? I must have missed that part of my training."
Eva let out a frustrated huff and spun toward the fireplace, where she immediately struggled with lighting a fire. "You should have checked the weather."
"I should have checked—?" Lucian choked on a laugh. "Forgive me, Princess, but last I checked, my skillset includes fighting off assassins, not predicting clouds."
Eva glared over her shoulder, eyes blazing like the fire she still hadn't managed to light.
Lucian sighed and pushed off the door. "Move."
"I can do it," she snapped.
He raised a brow. "Clearly."
Eva's eyes narrowed. "You're insufferable."
"And you're cold and wet," he shot back. "Now move before you set yourself on fire."
Eva let out a frustrated noise but scooted aside, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Lucian crouched, making quick work of the firewood. Sparks flickered, caught, and within minutes, warmth started spreading through the tiny cabin.
When he looked up, he found Eva watching him, expression unreadable.
He arched a brow. "What?"
She hesitated, then shrugged. "Nothing."
Lucian didn't buy it.
Eva was… complicated.
Most people feared him. Some respected him. Others hated him.
But Eva?
She challenged him.
She was stubborn and reckless and infuriatingly difficult—but also sharp-witted, clever, and damn if she wasn't the most fascinating person he'd ever met.
And now, they were stuck together. In a cabin. Alone.
He had survived war. Assassination attempts. Politics.
But this?
This was dangerous.
Eva shivered.
Lucian sighed, already shrugging off his cloak. "Here."
She eyed the cloak like it was some kind of trick. "I'm fine."
"You're freezing."
"I don't need your charity."
Lucian rolled his eyes and draped the cloak over her anyway. "It's not charity. It's called not letting you freeze to death."
Eva opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. She sighed and tugged the heavy fabric closer. "Fine. But don't think this means I owe you."
Lucian smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
They lapsed into silence, the only sound the crackling fire and the howling storm outside.
After a moment, Eva exhaled and slumped onto a pile of blankets in the corner. "This is ridiculous. We were supposed to be at the village hours ago."
Lucian crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. "Could be worse."
She shot him a look. "How?"
"Well," he said, "we could be out there." He nodded toward the storm. "Or stuck with Magnus."
Eva made a face. "Fair point."
Lucian smirked.
Eva stretched out her legs, absentmindedly twisting a damp curl around her finger. "You know," she mused, "I've never actually seen you panic before."
Lucian frowned. "I don't panic."
"Oh?" Eva tilted her head. "Not even when you realized we were trapped here?"
"That's not panic. That's called thinking."
Eva grinned. "Thinking with a slight edge of panic."
Lucian scowled. "You're impossible."
"I know."
The fire flickered, casting shadows across her face. Lucian swallowed.
They were too close.
Too alone.
Too—something.
Eva must have felt it too because she quickly looked away. "Well," she muttered, "this storm better pass soon."
Lucian cleared his throat. "Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
Outside, the storm raged on.
Inside, another storm was brewing.
One neither of them were quite ready to face.