Evie suddenly remembered something _something that sent a chill down her spine.
Back at the ball, Lucas had mentioned the Lord more than once, hinting at him in ways that now felt painfully obvious in hindsight. "What if it's the Lord?" he had asked casually. And Evie—blissfully unaware—had spoken about the Lord in the worst ways, right in front of him. She had called him lazy, accused him of having a few screws loose, and even back in the magistrate's office, when she'd wrongly accused him of murder, he hadn't so much as flinched. Of course he hadn't. Why would he? A man with that kind of power could walk away from a crime scene without a trace of suspicion, and she'd been too caught up in her own assumptions to see the truth.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asked, her voice dipping into something soft and ashamed. "I wouldn't have said the things I said…"
Lucas raised a brow and gave a faint scoff. "Would you, though? If you had known I was the Lord, would you have dared say any of it?"
Evie shook her head, meek and quiet now. The fire in her had cooled into glowing embers. If she had known who he really was, she wouldn't have dared speak half of what she had.
"Words, Vie," he prompted.
"No," she admitted.
"Exactly. And thanks to that honesty, I learned something. I learned just how badly Hallthom was being mistreated under its magistrate. If you had known I was the Lord back then—would you still have confronted me for killing him? Even if it meant standing against your supposed 'protector' of the land?"
Evie didn't answer aloud. She simply shook her head again. If she'd known the truth then, she never would have invited him for tea, never would have demanded answers. She would've been too scared to even raise her voice.
Lucas nodded as if confirming a private thought. "Exactly, Vie. But that doesn't matter now."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. "Tell me—when did you realize the Lucas with you wasn't me, but a clone?"
Evie blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, but she answered with confidence. "When it returned to the carriage after disappearing for a while… I knew something was off. His smile—it wasn't real. It didn't warm his face, didn't reach his eyes. He pretended to sleep, didn't say a word the entire way. And when we reached the forest, he didn't offer a hand or say a thing—just got down and walked ahead. It wasn't just rudeness… it was something deeper. I thought maybe he was angry at first, but then he looked at me, and I knew."
She paused, reliving it.
"His eyes… they weren't yours. Yours are dark red, but his were pitch black—soulless, hollow. And then, he called me 'Miss Roward.' No one calls me that. Not even strangers. He didn't know me. And then… he told me I had a phobia of trees."
Lucas frowned slightly. "You don't?"
"I grew up near the woods. I spent half my childhood climbing trees," Evie said with a weak laugh. "If he'd truly known me, he would've known that."
Lucas nodded slowly, clearly impressed. "You're sharper than I gave you credit for."
He leaned back in the seat as the carriage gently rocked forward. "The creature you met—was a Morphem. They're shape-shifters. They can imitate almost any creature. Some of the lower ones only absorb fragments of memory, which is why it slipped up. It let you read it without knowing. The higher-class ones though… they're more dangerous. More refined. Smarter. Almost impossible to detect."
He reached to the side and opened a window, letting in a cool gust of air.
"They leave almost no clues, except for one thing—faint green lines around the neck. That's the only sign you'll ever get, and even then, only if you're looking closely. They feed on innocence—hearts and livers, mostly. The pure-minded are their favorite meals. That's how they evolve into more powerful forms."
Evie's face twisted with disgust. "That's… horrible. But why were they after you? Why would one want to become you?"
Lucas met her eyes. "Because I've made enemies."
He said it so calmly, so matter-of-fact, that it almost felt surreal.
"I've always kept Havethrone protected. I only allow humans, vampires, and the White Witches to live in my lands. The rest of the creatures—those darker things that prey on the weak—I keep them out. Some of them have a place on the council, yes, but I outrank them. And they know it. As long as I'm Lord, they can't take control. But if I die… if one of them takes my place…"
He trailed off.
"They'd infest this land. Live freely among the humans. Corrupt them. Enslave them."
His voice was steady, but Evie heard the iron beneath it. He wasn't afraid—not for himself, at least. He was angry. Determined.
The carriage finally rolled to a stop, and the coachman stepped down to open the door. But instead of arriving at Evie's small home, she found herself staring at the towering gates of the Lord's mansion.
"I would prefer to be taken home," she said hesitantly.
"I know," Lucas replied. "But I don't think you have a very convincing lie for your Ann about that injury. Let me disinfect and stitch it. Then I'll take you home myself."
Evie hesitated, then nodded. That did sound more practical.
Lucas helped her down from the carriage, his hand steady on her back as he guided her toward the grand entrance. The butler stood at the door, head bowed respectfully.
"Welcome back, Master. Good evening, milady," the butler said, helping Lucas out of his coat before his eyes landed on Evie's injured arm.
"Shall I bring the first aid box, Master?"
"Yes. Take it to the piano room," Lucas instructed.
With that, he led Evie through the long corridor. The walls were tall and shadowed, the air inside rich with the scent of old wood and something floral. As they reached the staircase, they encountered a woman descending the upper floor.
She was striking—dressed in a deep blue gown that clung to her like water. Her shoulders were bare, and her long, curly brunette hair spilled down like dark silk. Her scarlet eyes lit up the moment they landed on Lucas.
"Milord," she said with a breathy smile. "Perfect timing—I was just about to leave."
She descended the final step with the grace of someone who believed the world should watch her walk.
Lucas didn't smile. In fact, his face hardened instantly.
"Lady Sara," he said coldly, "I don't recall inviting you for tea."
His voice was like a blade, and the sharp glare he gave her could've cut through bone.
The woman's smile faltered.
Evie watched from beside him, quietly taking it all in.