"Ring the bell, Rowena, and tell the world the misfortune your stepsister has brought upon us by stooping so low for a mere servant."
King Zedd spat, the insult landing as sharply as the saliva that struck the hem of Lyra's dress.
"Father," Lyra said, but the word barely left her mouth.
"You dare speak?" Rowena snapped, laughter widening her eyes as she looked down at Lyra where she knelt. "And who is your father?"
Lyra did not move. Her knees pressed into the cold stone floor, her body stiff with shame. This was her doing. The king had taken her from a slave's life, placed her beneath this roof, and she had returned his mercy with disgrace.
"Where is the one you lay with?" the king barked.
Lyra flinched. Her head shook slowly.
"I did not....".
"Silence," Rowena cut in, turning toward the king. "Father, why keep her at all? This was never her rightful place."
Rowena was right. Lyra lowered her gaze.
Royal blood ran through her veins, yet her mother had worn chains. Silk and gold were still foreign against her skin, even after two years within these walls. Two years since her mother's death, since the truth had surfaced, since the late king had been named her father.
Still, Rowena had never seen her as anything but a threat. From the moment Lyra entered the palace, she had been an intruder, a shadow reaching for a place that was not hers.
Lyra had often wondered why they brought her here, why they gave her a name only to remind her she did not belong. Now she knelt, no different from the life she had always known.
The king's gaze narrowed. He lifted a hand.
"Send him in."
Lyra's breath caught.
No. He could not mean Kael.
Her heart pounded as the memory rushed back. Kael tying the horse's rein, her clumsy fingers, how close they had stood. That was all it took. A whisper, a rumor, a lie dressed as truth.
"Why do you look as though you have seen a ghost?" Rowena stepped closer, her voice light with mockery. "Afraid you will be exposed and sent back to the slum where you belong?"
Lyra's fingers tightened around the hem of her dress, her knuckles turning pale. Rowena stood inches away, waiting for her to break.
Lyra kept her face still. Survival had taught her that much.
"Your Majesty," Lyra said, turning to the king.
He stood tall before her, dark velvet robes falling heavy from his shoulders, an imposing figure who still sent fear down her spine no matter how many times she faced him.
"Don't you dar.." Rowena began.
"Let her speak," the king said, raising a finger.
Rowena scoffed and placed a hand on her hip, blond hair swaying as she stepped aside.
Cold air drifted in through the open windows of the great hall, biting into Lyra's skin. Somewhere in the distance, night crickets sang, a reminder that sleep had been torn from her grasp.
"Kael only helped me with the horse's rein," Lyra said, swallowing. "I am still learning to ride. We did nothing. The guards only found us standing too close."
Rowena's laughter followed. "You need not explain, sweet Lyra. We all know the truth."
Lyra frowned and turned back to the king. "Please. I have done nothing wrong. But if punishment must fall, let it fall on me, not Kael."
Her fingers curled tighter into her dress.
He already carried more than his share of labor. She would not add her shame to his burden.
Footsteps echoed through the hall and Lyra's head whipped toward the door. At the sight of him, she squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, then opened them again.
Kael stood between two guards, each gripping one of his arms. Sweat darkened his hair, strands clinging to his forehead. His gaze shifted from Lyra to the king, confusion clouding his dark eyes as he tried to understand why he had been summoned.
"Bring him to his knees," the king ordered.
Lyra's fingers tightened around her dress.
"Your Majesty," she tried to speak, but the commotion had already begun. The guards forced Kael down, his knees striking the stone floor as the king stepped closer. Through it all, Kael searched Lyra's face, silent questions burning in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Lyra whispered, her shoulders sagging.
"You dared touch a royal with your filthy hands."
The slap rang through the hall.
Lyra's eyes widened. "No, my king.."
Kael's head snapped to the side. He let out a low grunt, but said nothing, his jaw tightening as he turned his face away.
Lyra's legs nearly gave out. She pushed herself up, panic surging through her chest. She had to stop this. She had to do something. She knew the king's cruelty. She had seen mercy denied too many times.
She could not let him die for her.
A hand seized her shoulder and shoved her back down.
Rowena.
"You stay down," she warned, lifting a finger.
Lyra's heart pounded hard against her chest. "Your Majesty…"
The king did not spare her a glance. He lowered himself to Kael's height and gripped the servant's chin, forcing his face up.
Kael met his gaze without flinching. The confusion in his dark eyes was gone, replaced by something sharper. Disdain. The sight made Lyra's breath hitch.
"I see you do not bow."
The king gave a low murmur of approval. "Is that why you thought it fitting to lift her skirts in a place as lowly as the barn?"
Kael's brows drew together. His eyes left the king and searched Lyra's face, questions written plainly there. All she could do was shake her head and clench her fists.
A slow breath escaped him. When he turned back to the king, his gaze had softened. "There must be a misunderstanding."
He spoke back?
The hall fell silent. Even Rowena stiffened, her eyes widening. Everyone knew the ruthlessness of the King of Ravenglade. Mercy was not a gift he gave freely.
The air fled Lyra's lungs.
"Brave," the king said, amused. He rose to his feet and turned toward her.
Lyra crawled back instinctively, her gaze dropping to the floor. She could not bear his eyes, those deep, iron-gray eyes that struck fear into bone.
"You lay with a man who dared mock me."
"I did not lie with him," Lyra said.
Her voice trembled as she lifted her head. Fear clawed at her, but she would not accept a lie spoken as truth.
"Sadly, the eyes of the world have seen differently," the king said, a smirk curling his lips. "You know the cost of such punishment."
"Please," Lyra pleaded, her hand pressing to her chest. "Punish me instead."
From the far end of the hall came Kael's low murmur. "Stop, Lyra."
She did not look at him. "Please. This is a misunderstanding."
"Father," Rowena moved to his side, her small voice carrying through the chamber. "Do not spare Lyra if you must punish the servant."
Lyra's gaze dropped to her trembling, clasped hands. Was there truly nothing she could do to change her fate?
"The servant shall be hanged," the king declared.
Lyra's head snapped up, her breath leaving her in a sharp gasp. No. He could not mean it. She turned to Kael, but his eyes remained lowered and so she could not make out his thought.
Hanged?
Her body moved before her mind could catch up. Lyra crawled forward and clutched the king's robe.
"I will do anything," she begged. "Please, spare him."
"I have given my verdict."
She shook her head, refusing to let go. "Forgive me, my king. Spare the servant and punish me instead. He knew no better."
Rowena crouched to Lyra's height, her eyes shining with amusement. "Oh, punish you? Sweet Lyra, of course you deserve to be punished."
She rose and turned to the king. "Why not punish her instead."
Rowena seemed to find joy in it, but Lyra's heart ached too deeply to pay her any heed. She lifted her gaze to the king, her palms rubbing together as she pleaded.
"If that is so," the king said, "then I shall punish you."
"No!"
Every head turned at the sound of Kael's voice. His eyes were hard, fixed on Lyra. "Let her go. I will take whatever punishment is given."
"No, Kael, you did nothing," Lyra said, her voice shaking, and Rowena's lips curled at the sight.
"Oh my," she clapped softly. "Love is in the air. I knew it. You had something with this servant all along."
They ignored her. Lyra shook her head while Kael stood unnervingly calm. She could not let him suffer in her place. Had he not heard the king. Punishment here meant death.
"There is a beast disturbing the peace of the kingdom," the king said, placing his hands behind his back as he paced. "For weeks now it has left fear in its wake."
Lyra's breath hitched. The forest attacks. The hunters who returned empty-handed. The whispers that followed every sunset.
"Perhaps," the king continued, "I shall leave you with the task of ending it."
Her heart sank.
"I command you, Lyra Thorne, to go to Eldergloom Forest and return with the head of the beast."