Twice he had nearly been caught. It was two times too many. He was supposed to be a shadow, unseen by whomever he was following, unknown to the world he silently walked through. Yet twice they had perceived him.

  The first time had been entirely unexpected. Solenne only left her shop to do deliveries on the fourth Midday of every month. Always, like clockwork, without fail. She never faltered from that schedule. Until she did. It had nearly cost him everything. Lucien had no concept of what he would have done if she had truly seen him. When it came to Emrys, well, he would have just killed him. It would have been the easiest thing to do and saved him the trouble of doing so later. The only reason he didn't was so the Knights of the Pale didn't show up at her doorstep wondering why there was a dead scholar in her flat.

  Lucien couldn't stop thinking about how she actively looked for him. From where he had ducked, he had seen her expression. He swore it held something like recognition in it. His heart had beat so fast and so loudly that he just knew she was going to hear it and find him in the crowd he had blended into. Instead, she had turned and continued on her way with Emrys. His jealousy had screamed at him to follow and take the scholar out in public, to declare his love for her right there, vowing to protect her from anyone who came for her.

  Instead he followed them at a safe distance. The stops she made were at least in the same order as usual. It seemed only the day of her deliveries had changed. Usually he enjoyed following her, listening to how she interacted with people, and seeing how each of them was touched by her. His only solace was knowing that none were touched as he had been. Not a single soul she saw, even those she healed with her magic, knew what it meant to truly be healed by her. They didn't know how her blood held the same glow as her Mark. They had never seen her whispers apologies, beg for their forgiveness, and promise they didn't mean to curse them as well. None. She was his. All his. Only. His.

  Or she had been until Emrys came along. Lucien's urge to kill the man grew with every step along the delivery path. They walked too close together. She leaned up towards him, smiling in a way he had never seen before. She should be smiling at him like that. They should be arm in arm, making her deliveries, enjoying the cooler weather. More than once he had to stop in a side alley to regain control of himself. He knew all it would take was a well thrown dagger piercing Emrys' back in just the right spot to take away his ability to walk.

  Lucien stepped around the corner just moments after they did. He had needed to quell that specific urge yet in doing so, he had nearly missed the woman running at Solenne and Emrys. He heard the scream, started to run, but once more found he was too late. The scholar got in front of Solenne, taking the full force of the running woman's body weight to his chest. He fell back on top of Solenne who quickly [skittered] out from under the two of them. The assassin had to stop and hide as others came running to get the woman off of Emrys after Solenne screamed.

  His fingers curled into fists, nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms, teeth grinded as his jaw tightened. A vignette began to take his vision. His jealousy of Emrys swirled with his desire for Solenne creating some new beast inside of him that he had no name for. It should have been him. He was her protector. How many had he killed in her name? Who prayed to her every time their blade found their target? It was him. It was always him. Lucien bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

  The icy clarity of pain washed over him. It allowed him to key in on Solenne and Emrys speaking in the road."I'm okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

  "Come, Emrys. Let's continue. We are nearly to the blacksmith."

  Lucien perked up. There was something off in her tone. It was laced with worry and...fear. He peered out from his hiding spot to see they were farther up the road now. Cautiously, he walked over to where everything had happened. There were two men who were consoling the woman who had attacked Emrys. She was sobbing almost unconsolably, apologizing to the men over and over as if that was going to save her. He walked over, head tilted slightly as he looked harder at the woman.

  "She is infected."

  All three of them jumped. None of them had seemingly noticed his approach. Lucien's lip twitched as realization set in their expressions. It was true that Pale assassins were taught to blend in but their outfits always carried a symbol of who they were. His was no different. The top he wore was tight to his body, gray, and bore the crest of the Candescent Order; a set of Seraph wings with swords crossing between them. The woman began to sob harder if that was even possible.

  "Please don't kill her. She didn't mean to attack that couple." The taller of the men begged.

  That ugly, unnamed beast now residing in him clawed desperately at his throat, his mind, willing him to slice this man's throat and snarl that those two before were not a couple. It wanted him to claim Solenne as his to anyone who would listen. Lucien cut his eyes at the man before looking at the woman and to the other one standing there.

  "How long has she been sick?" His voice was monotone, sinking into the training that was beat into him for most of his life.

  "A few weeks give or take. We tried taking her to the Ecclesium but they refused her, said we weren't seen at Midday enough to be saved." The shorter of the men told him. "How can they be so cruel? Do we not deserve healing just like the others? Why are we treated so different?"

  Those weren't questions Lucien could answer. All he could do was walk away. Even if he wanted to offer mercy, he was not ordained to do so. Not without consent front he Primarch and he already knew Aldren was never merciful. In fact, Lucien would gander that the holy leader of the Candescent Order didn't even know how to spell 'mercy'. Not that many in the Pale knew how to either.

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  "Take her and go somewhere peaceful. Keep her inside. Do not let her out. When she dies, burn her body." He gave them all one last onceover before turning on his heel and walking away. Even as they yelled at him to wait, to end it for them, he kept walking.

  ???????????????

  She always left the window unlatched. Most people did when their windows were on the second floor. Even the best thieves in Caelora preferred a ground entrance but Lucien was not a thief. Not in the traditional sense. He perched precariously on the edge of the window outside as he pulled it up with the hand that wasn't hanging onto the awning above. Lucien slipped inside without a sound. The others were downstairs by the sound of it. An off putting smell filled his nostrils. Hylarin. He hated that smell.

  When he was younger, before he was an orphan, he was a somewhat sickly child. His mother used Hylarin root to help him breathe whenever his allergies would close up his airways. Once she was dead and he was in the care of the Pale Order, those supposed allergies went away. He still wasn't entirely sure what kept him sick for those early years but he had always been grateful to never have to smell of Hylarin for the rest of his life. It made sense that she would make it for Emrys. If he was infected, the salve would help him breathe until it didn't anymore. The healers in the Ecclesium made people use it at first, especially when they thought that someone might just have a different lung sickness and not Bloom.

  Lucien had just begun to look around, trying to find... well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for if he was honest. He just felt like he needed to be there for whatever reason. When following Solenne and Emrys back to the shop, he had just kept going instead of breaking off like he did in the past. So much so that he had almost walked in the front door. It bothered him that his control was slipping so easily. He had always been in control yet now it was as if whatever this new beast inside of him was took over without his consent.

  A stair creaked. He froze. His senses went into overdrive. The footfalls were heavy. Emrys. Why was he coming upstairs? Was he staying up here too? Had Lucien missed something when he was killing monsters instead of guarding Solenne? No. Surely not. Emrys was too pious and Solenne was far from the type to move a man in without justifiable cause. He could only watch, steel grey eyes locked in place, as Emrys crested the top of the stairs. For some reason, the scholar didn't notice him at first.

  Lucien tracked Emrys as he went over to the sink. He could fell him before the pitcher he placed under the water was full. Rush him, grab him, dagger between the ribs, lay him down to bleed out. He could escape before Solenne came up to see what was taking Emrys so long. No one would be wiser except for him. The pitcher finished filling up. Emrys picked it up, turned to walk out, and it was then he glanced towards where Lucien had just vaulted over the windowsill and out to the ground below.

  The assassin moved quickly once his feet hit the ground. He went further down the side road opposite of his usual haunt. He cut down between two of the abandoned buildings and sunk down against one of them. The rough brick pulled at the fabric of his top making him cringe. He hated that feeling. What else was he supposed to do though? All he could do was sink down as his heart pounded so hard in his chest he knew it was going to break his ribs. He counted to ten slowly in his head. On the count of ten, he peered out to see what was going on up the road.

  Solenne was squatted down looking at where he landed. She stood as Emrys walked over to her. He was too far to hear what they were saying. Not that it mattered as all sense left his body seeing her touch Emrys' arm and then run her hand down it to interlock with that soft scholar hand. It wasn't rage that filled the void of his senses. This time it was hurt? Defeat? This overwhelming need to scream until his throat was raw and no sound came out anymore. He wanted to cough up blood as he kept trying to release every pent up, deep rooted, rotted out emotion held in feral scream after feral scream.

  Lucien got up from the ground. He wasn't entirely sure how long he sat there. The sun had started to go down, night lazily pulling itself over the white stoned city. His feet felt heavy. His soul heavier. Had he truly lost the chance? What chance? He had known since that fateful night eight years ago that there would never be a chance. In another life where she wasn't cursed and he wasn't an assassin, they maybe could have tried. Maybe. Only the Choir knew if such things were possible and he gave up his faith in them a long time ago.

  His body carried him back to the catacombs. He walked down to the communal baths. Lucien didn't speak. He wasn't even sure he was thinking. Everything he did was purely on instinct. There was little recollection of filling a bath with water. He wasn't sure how his clothes became neatly folded on the bench next to the bath. When had he stepped into the stone tub and settled into water so hot his skin instantly turned red.

  Lucien came to with a groan brought forth by the feeling of nails on his scalp. His eyes snapped open, a hand shooting up, only for him to be grabbed at the wrist and softly hushed by a familiar voice. Tilting his head back, he saw Calen there, smiling down at him.

  "You've been gone for awhile, brother."

  There was no asking if he was okay or what had happened. Calen knew Lucien well enough not to ask. It wasn't as if he could have told his brother anything anyway. When these episodes occurred, Lucien never remembered what he did. Even later on if he tried to recall what happened all he would find were black voids where memories should have been.

  "Why are you here?" Lucien knew why yet still he asked.

  Calen rolled his eyes playfully. "You know why Lucien. I saw you come down here. When I called your name over and over and you didn't reply, I knew what was going on. So I came to take care of you. You've been in this tub long enough for the water to run cold. I had to replace it."

  That shocked him. Lucien knew it was written all over his face when Calen chuckled. "Yes, it was that long and no, I didn't mind. I never do." Before any other words could be exchanged, Calen began to run his nails over Lucien's scalp again, fingers combing through his hair at the same time.

  When Calen did things like this, Lucien wondered if he was in love with him. This went beyond friendship, didn't it? That caused a tightness in his chest he wasn't expecting. Lucien had only ever had eyes for Solenne. No one else. She owned his heart, his soul, every piece of him but if she wanted Emrys... Could he possibly allow someone else to take her place? It wouldn't be hard with Calen. They knew each other better than most people did. Loving him wouldn't be hard.

  "I'd say you should unburden yourself and pray with me but we both know you can't and even if you could, you wouldn't." Calen spoke the truth with a gentle tongue that Lucien didn't feel he deserved.

  Yet, that was why Lucien couldn't love him. Calen, like Emrys, was a man too lost to the Light, the Choir, the Aureate, the Doctrine. If it ever came down to it, Calen would choose his religion over Lucien without hesitation. That was one thing neither of them could deny.

  "There are some things that can't be unburdened even if I desperately wanted to." Lucien rumbled while he looked up at Calen. The dark haired assassin just hummed in agreement. Both of them knew when words were no longer needed. With a sigh, Lucien closed his eyes and allowed Calen to continue caring for him.