Lyra's POV
"Run!"
Lyra shoved Elara toward the back wall as guards rushed forward. Her head spun from the magical backlash, but she forced herself to move. She couldn't think about Daevan standing in the doorway. Couldn't think about those golden eyes that still haunted her dreams.
Not now. Survive first. Fall apart later.
A guard grabbed her arm. Lyra twisted, slamming her elbow into his throat. He choked and stumbled back. She ran to Elara, who was collapsed against the wall, still weak from the severance ritual.
"There's a tunnel," Lyra gasped, pointing to a loose stone near the floor. "Pull it. Go!"
"What about you?" Elara's voice shook.
"I'll be right behind you. Move!"
Elara yanked the stone free. A dark opening appeared—barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through. She crawled inside and disappeared into the shadows.
"Stop her!" the Enforcer shouted.
Two more guards charged at Lyra. She raised her hands and reached desperately for her magic. Pain shot through her chest where the old bond-scars burned. Using this much power so soon after the ritual was dangerous. Her body was already past its limit.
But what choice did she have?
Power exploded from her palms—raw bond-magic that crackled green and silver in the air. It hit the first guard and sent him flying backward. The second guard hesitated, fear crossing his face.
Lyra didn't give him time to recover. She grabbed a heavy candlestick from the floor and swung it hard. It connected with his helmet with a loud clang. He dropped like a stone.
Her vision blurred. The room tilted sideways. She'd used too much magic. Her legs felt like water.
"Lyra."
That voice. Deep and broken and achingly familiar.
She turned slowly, knowing what she'd see but still not ready for it.
Daevan stood five feet away. Crimson scales covered his hands and crawled up his forearms—his dragon barely contained beneath his skin. His dark hair was longer than she remembered, wild and unkempt. His eyes blazed with golden fire.
He looked like he hadn't slept in three years.
"Don't," Lyra warned, raising her shaking hands. "Don't come closer."
"You're hurt." He took a step forward.
"I said stay back!"
She threw another blast of bond-magic at him. It should have knocked him down, should have made him retreat.
Instead, Daevan walked straight through it.
The magic wrapped around him like smoke and dissolved. Not because he was stronger—but because even after three years, even after she'd torn their bond apart with blood and agony, her magic still recognized him. Still couldn't hurt him.
No. No, that wasn't possible.
"The bond is dead," Lyra whispered. "I killed it."
"Then why can I feel your heartbeat?" Daevan's voice cracked. "Why have I felt it for the last twenty minutes, getting stronger the closer I got to you?"
Lyra's hand flew to her chest. The scars beneath her wraps burned hot. And underneath the pain—
A pull. A thread of connection she'd thought was gone forever.
"You're lying," she said, but her voice shook.
"You feel it too." Daevan moved closer, slow and careful like approaching a wounded animal. "Fragments. Pieces of what we had. They're still there, buried so deep the severance couldn't reach them."
"No." Lyra backed toward the tunnel opening. Her legs wobbled. "I cut every thread. I made sure—"
"You can't sever a natural bond completely." Daevan's eyes burned into hers. "The Council says it's impossible because they've never seen a real bond before. Only their forced ones. But what we had—what we still have—"
"We have nothing!" Lyra screamed. The words tore from somewhere deep and broken inside her. "You chose your duty over me. You chose a political marriage and your mother's approval and your precious empire. So I chose myself. I chose freedom. And I'd do it again."
Pain flashed across Daevan's face like she'd struck him.
Good. Let him hurt. Let him feel a fraction of what he'd done to her.
"I know what I did," he said quietly. "I know I failed you. But Lyra, I never married Seraphine. I never bonded with anyone else. The night you severed our connection—" His voice broke. "I felt you dying across our bond. Felt your agony. And I burned the Ice Duke's estate to ashes rather than honor that engagement."
Lyra stared at him. "You're lying."
"I've spent three years searching for you. Three years going slowly mad because my dragon is dying without its mate. Three years hoping you'd come back." Daevan took another step. They were so close now she could see gold flecks in his eyes. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. But please—please let me explain—"
"Your Highness!" The Enforcer struggled to his feet. "That woman is a bond-criminal. She must be arrested—"
Daevan turned his head slightly. "Leave. Now. Or I'll show you what a feral dragon does to people who threaten my mate."
The Enforcer's face went white. He gestured to his remaining guards and they fled through the broken door.
Suddenly, Lyra and Daevan were alone.
The silence felt crushing.
"I'm not your mate anymore," Lyra said. But even as she spoke, she felt that impossible pull in her chest growing stronger. The bond-fragments recognizing each other. Reaching.
"Lyra—"
"Stop saying my name like that." She hated how her voice cracked. "Like you still have the right."
"Then what do I call you? The Scarlet Veil?" Daevan's jaw tightened. "You've been helping people sever abusive bonds. Building an underground network. Risking your life every day." His eyes searched her face. "You became everything I should have protected you to be."
Something hot and painful lodged in Lyra's throat.
She couldn't do this. Couldn't stand here listening to him, feeling the bond-fragments pulse between them, remembering how much she'd loved him before he broke her.
"I have to go," she whispered.
She turned toward the tunnel opening, but her legs finally gave out. She stumbled and would have fallen—
Daevan caught her.
His arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her. The moment they touched, the bond-fragments exploded with light. Gold and crimson magic crackled between them, visible in the dim workshop.
Lyra gasped. She could feel him. Really feel him. His heart racing against hers. His dragon purring at finally touching its mate. His desperate relief and joy and—
Love. After everything, he still—
"No," Lyra shoved him away hard. "Don't touch me. Don't—"
The floor beneath them suddenly shook. Dust rained from the ceiling. A deep rumbling sound filled the air.
"What—" Daevan started.
The back wall exploded inward.
Ice magic froze the entire workshop in seconds. The temperature plummeted. Lyra's breath came out in white clouds.
Through the hole in the wall stepped a woman with platinum hair and frost-blue eyes.
Seraphine Frostwyn smiled coldly at both of them.
"Hello, darling," she said to Daevan. "Miss me?"
Then she raised her hand and a spear of ice shot straight at Lyra's heart.