He wears the same rough furs as the others, the same dust-streaked clothes, but everything else about him is different. No hunched shoulders. No hollow stare. He stands tall and broad, his posture straight despite the brutal conditions. A mane of jet-black hair falls to his shoulders, dusted with snow. Beneath the smear of shimmering black ore on his skin, I see a strong jawline, fair skin, and hazel eyes that hold a surprising warmth.
Handsome. Unexpectedly so.
My head tilts before I can stop it.
And he is unmistakably human. No faint glow of magic beneath the surface. No pointed ears. Just… a man.
He reaches us and drops to one knee before Luceran, but not before casting me a swift, assessing glance.
“My lord,” he says, voice steady. “Welcome to the Aurevault. What brings you here today?”
“Does it matter?” Luceran replies, clipped and cold. “I visit my mines when I please.”
The man, Pax, nods and rises slowly, keeping his head bowed. Luceran exhales sharply, as if annoyed by the ceremonial politeness.
“But today,” he continues, “I am here because this human is in my service. With our next shipment being the largest of the year, I require everything documented. Weighed. Measured. Triple checked. She will do this. You will show her what she needs to see and tell her what she needs to know.”
Pax’s head lifts a fraction. I catch the flick of his eyes toward me.
“Of course, my lord.” He pauses for a beat and then says, “Does she have a name I may use? Or shall I call her ‘this human’ as well?”
A startled laugh escapes me, small and involuntary.
Luceran’s heavy boot stomps forward, silencing it at once.
He looms over Pax, his height and breadth swallowing the space between them as frost unfurls from his skin in slow, threatening waves.
“Her name,” Luceran says, voice a low vibration, “is Neve. Neve Devlin.”
He speaks it as if it costs him something.
He turns slightly, not quite looking at me, as if eye contact might be too much concession.
“And this is Pax,” he adds. “Foreman of the Aurevault.”
Luceran’s gaze locks back on the human, cold and unblinking.
“For now.”
The threat hangs between them, yet Pax inclines his head with the calm of someone who has weathered far worse than a Fae lord’s temper.
“Yes, my lord,” Pax replies. “Where would you like to start?”
“Show her the mine,” Luceran commands. He turns, gaze landing fully on me now.
My breath catches. My heart stalls. There is nothing soft in his eyes.
“Best you see the liberties I’ve allowed you,” he says. “What the alternative could have been. What it still can be for you and your father.”
I bite the inside of my lip hard, so hard I taste blood, just to keep from snapping at him. He wields fear as casually as breathing. I would give anything to see him feel even a fraction of the helplessness he forces onto others.
He turns away.
The miners scatter instantly, some heading back into the mine, others veering toward carts piled with ore. The clatter of metal and rusted tracks fills the air.
I follow Luceran without hesitation, because that is what he expects, whether he speaks the order or not. Pax steps into stride beside me.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice pitched low enough only I can hear, “maybe it’s because I haven’t seen many women down here, but you might be the most beautiful one I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
