r made it clear that this was still a jail. "Five minutes," King Kael said, moving out of the way to let Lyra in. The look on Mara's face changed when she saw her sister whe

up a chair beside her. "What are you looking for?" "My mother's spellwork." Lyra ran her fingers over faded lines. "If she created the curse, she must have left clues to breaking it." Kael reached past her for a leather-bound book. His arm brushed hers, sending a surprise shiver up her spine. "I found this hidden in the old healer's quarters," he said, opening the book to show pages of elegant handwriting. "It belonged to a woman named Ariella." Lyra's breath caught. She'd never seen her mother's handwriting before. "May I?" Their fingers touched as he gave her the book. For a moment, neither pulled away. "Why did you pretend to be mute?" Kael asked suddenly. "When you first came here as Lyr?" Lyra turned the pages carefully, avoiding his look. "It's easier to hide when people don't expect you to speak." "Yet you revealed yourself anyway." "Not by choice," she reminded him. A hint of a smile touched his lips. "No. By skill. That blade repair was... amazing." Heat crept into Lyra's cheeks at the surprise praise. "I didn't know what I was doing. It just felt right." "Magic often does." Kael leaned closer to examine the book with her. "Your mother wrote that magic runs in the blood. It calls to similar power." "Is that why the dagger responded to me?" Kael nodded. "And why I knew you weren't a regular smith. Magic recognizes magic." They worked side by side for hours, translating old texts and comparing them to Ariella's notes. As the sun set, servants brought food and drink. Lyra was surprised to find herself relaxing in Kael's company. His knowledge impressed her, and his dedication to breaking the curse seemed sincere. "Do you ever regret it?" she asked as they stopped to eat. "Becoming king?" Kael's amber eyes darkened. "I never picked this crown. My father died in the middle of a rite. The curse transferred to me that night, ready or not." "How old were you?" "Twenty." He looked into his wineglass. "Young enough to believe I could change things. Old enough to know better." Lyra studied his face-the scar along his jaw, the tiredness in his eyes. This wasn't the monster from village stories. This was a man trapped by fate, just as she had been in the mines. "What about you?" Kael asked. "Do you regret disguising yourself to infiltrate my fortress?" "No." Lyra smiled slightly. "Though I regret getting caught." That drew a genuine laugh from him-a warm, rich sound that changed his face. Lyra found herself smiling back before she remembered who he was. What he was. Her enemy. Her sister's attacker. The man who might save them both. She looked away quickly, focused on Ariella's book. "This passage references the Blood Moon ritual. But it's different from what you described." Kael leaned close to read over her shoulder. "How so?" "It says the sacrifice isn't meant to feed the curse, but to direct it." Lyra traced the faint words. "The blood opens a path for the power to flow." "Flow where?" Before she could answer, the door burst open. General Vyrn charged in, his face thunderous. "Sire, forgive the interruption," he growled, staring at Lyra. "But there's a situation requiring your... private attention." "Can it wait?" Kael asked, clearly annoyed. "It's about the prisoner. The woman." Vyrn's eyes never left Lyra. "She claims to know how your father