Cold air rushed down the dimly lit hallway, but it did nothing to cool the burn in Evan’s lungs. He leaned his head against the cold stone wall, trying to steady his ragged breathing. Adrenaline still spiked through his veins, sharp and electric, making his fingertips twitch with residual panic. Beside him, Luke slumped against the opposite wall, his perfect blonde hair slightly disheveled, chest heaving under his torn silk jacket. Staring down at the single black rose resting on the polished floorboards, Evan felt his throat tighten. It looked like a mockery. A pristine, dark joke dropped right outside the vault they had almost died in. "Who put that there?" Evan demanded, his voice a low, raspy hiss that scraped against the quiet of the corridor. He kicked the flower. Bruised petals skittered across the marble, leaving a faint smear of dark moisture behind. Luke blinked, looking down at the ruined blossom before raising his brilliant blue eyes to meet Evan's. "I don't know," Luke whispered, his voice still thick from the inhaled gas. "But we need to get to the courtyard. It isn't safe here." Safety was a concept Evan had never believed in. He had learned that lesson in the gutters of the Penance Wing before he could even tie his own boots. Looking at Luke's worried, pale face, a sick feeling twisted deep in Evan's gut. Proximity, the shared breathing in that tiny vault, the way Luke had held his waist to help him reach the high vent—it all felt too deliberate. Every touch was a line crossed. Every soft look from the golden heir was a threat to the walls Evan had spent a lifetime building. "You planned this," Evan said, stepping back until his spine hit the opposite stone wall. His hands curled into tight fists inside his pockets, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at the golden boy of Paragon. "What?" Luke's brow furrowed, a look of genuine confusion softening his sharp, handsome features. He pushed himself off the wall, taking a hesitant step forward. "Don't play dumb," Evan spat, his words dripping with venom to mask the trembling in his chest. "Vaults, gas, the perfect little escape where we had to press our bodies together just to survive. It was all a setup." Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Luke straightened up, his posture losing its relaxed warmth and turning rigid. "You think I would poison myself just to... what, Evan? What could I possibly gain from that?" Luke's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a sharp edge of disbelief. "My loyalty," Evan sneered, stepping forward to poke a rigid finger into Luke's chest, right over his beating heart. "You wanted to see if the dirty little street rat from the Penance Wing would break. You wanted to see if I'd sell you out to save my own skin, or if I'd play the loyal pet." He wanted to hurt Luke. He needed to hurt him before Luke could find a way past his defenses. If he kept Luke at a distance, if he made him an enemy again, he would be safe from the terrifying warmth blooming in his chest. Hurt flashed in Luke's eyes, a sudden, sharp pain that made him flinch as if Evan had physically struck him. It wasn't anger; it was a quiet, crushing disappointment. But Evan forced himself to sneer anyway, turning his face away to hide the sudden prick of guilt. "I know your kind," Evan muttered, crossing his arms tightly over his chest to hide his shaking hands. "You shiny, perfect heirs love to play savior. But you always make sure the deck is stacked in your favor first." Luke didn't yell. He didn't grab Evan by the collar or throw a punch, even though Evan practically begged him to with his eyes. Instead, Luke let out a long, slow breath that shuddered in his throat. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored jacket, his movements slow and deliberate. Evan tensed, expecting a weapon or a tracking device. Instead, Luke pulled out a small, rectangular object wrapped in faded blue velvet. "I was going to give you this later," Luke said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "When things were calmer. But I think you need to see it now." Unwrapping the velvet, Luke revealed a deck of cards. They weren't normal playing cards. Even from a distance, Evan could feel the ancient, humming magic radiating from them. Silver edges sparkled beneath the corridor's dim lights, and the faces of the cards seemed to shift, threaded with spun glass that caught the light like starlight. Beautiful, intricate illustrations of ancient houses and forgotten magic were etched onto each surface. "These belonged to my mother," Luke said, holding them out on his open palm. "Before she became the Queen of Paragon, she was just a girl with nothing but a pair of glass slippers and a dream. She collected these during her travels." "They are the Glass Weaver's deck," Luke continued, his voice soft with reverence. "Only three exist in the world. They respond only to those with pure card magic." Evan stared at the deck. His fingers twitched with a sudden, intense craving. As a card manipulator, he knew the value of such a tool; it was priceless, a legendary artifact that could amplify his magic tenfold. "Why are you showing me this?" Evan asked, his voice dropping its defensive edge for a fraction of a second. "Because I wanted you to have them," Luke said, stepping closer. Cedarwood and rain drifted from him, wrapping around Evan's senses. "I wanted you to know that I trust you, Evan. Even if you don't trust me." Panic, hot and wild, flared in Evan's chest. It wasn't just fear of the cards or the magic. It was the terrifying realization that he was starting to care. Looking at Luke's soft, earnest expression, Evan felt the icy walls around his heart begin to crack. That terrified him more than any gas trap ever could. If he let Luke in, Luke would have the power to destroy him. He couldn't allow that. He wouldn't. Snatching the deck from Luke's hand, Evan turned on his heel and marched toward the glass doors leading to the courtyard. "Keep your garbage," Evan snarled over his shoulder. "Evan, wait!" Luke called out, his footsteps hurrying after him. Pushing through the heavy glass doors, Evan stepped into the cool night air of the courtyard. A massive stone fountain sat in the center, its waters bubbling softly under the pale moonlight. Water glowed with a faint, enchanted blue light, casting dancing reflections across the manicured hedges. "You think you can buy my trust?" Evan yelled, turning to face Luke, who had followed him out. His hands shook as he held the priceless deck. "You think some fancy silver cards make up for the fact that your family locks my people in cages?" "It's not a bribe!" Luke pleaded, stopping a few feet away, his hands raised in surrender. "I just wanted to give you something that mattered to me. I wanted to show you that you matter to me." Those words were a knife to Evan's throat. Nobody had ever said that to him and meant it. It was a lie, a beautiful, shining lie designed to make him weak. With a sudden, violent heave, Evan threw his arm back and hurled the ancient deck directly into the center of the fountain. Splashing loudly, the blue velvet fell away as the cards scattered into the deep water. Silver edges sparkled beneath the surface, slowly sinking into the dark depths of the stone basin. Luke froze. His face went entirely pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the water where his mother's legacy was drowning. A look of profound, agonizing betrayal washed over his face, stripping away all of his usual golden warmth. Watching him, Evan felt a sickening wave of regret wash over him. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He had won. He had pushed Luke away. But it didn't feel like a victory; it felt like he had just ripped open his own chest. Before either of them could speak, the shadows near the edge of the courtyard shifted. A cold draft swept through the garden, rustling the rosebushes. From the shadows of the fountain, a cloaked figure steps forward, holding a crossbow aimed directly at Luke's heart.

Chapter 9: Thorns in the Garden