Page 28 of King of Flames and Shadows

I lurch to a halt, chest heaving, muscles trembling with adrenaline. I can’t see their face, but I feel their gaze, a heavy, piercing thing that pins me in place.

“Who are you?” I demand, panting, voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady. “Why are you here?”

The figure shifts slightly, and then, with deliberate slowness, they push back the hood.

I blink, confusion and disbelief washing over me like a tidal wave. “Lyra?”

Lyra’s face, pale and gaunt in the dim light, breaks into a tense, shaky smile. “Hello, Calliope.”

For a moment, I just stare at her, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Lyra—my only friend, the girl I had assumed dead—standing here, impossibly alive, looking at me with those sharp, familiar eyes. The same eyes that used to squint up at me from the village as I waved to her from my cottage; the same eyes that flashed with laughter over stolen berries.

I drop the sword. It clatters upon the stone at our feet, and in an uncharacteristic show of affection, I throw my arms around Lyra and hug her tightly to me. She wraps her arms around my waist and clutches me just as hard. Her body is trembling slightly.

“Lyra,” I find myself murmuring against her hair. “Lyra, what are you doing here?”

She releases me. “I came to get you, of course,” she says, half-laughing, though now there are tears running down her face.

I look her up and down. Long gone are the expensive frocks and the dainty jewelry. She’s dressed in drab, practical workers’ clothes, linen pants and a tunic, half of her hair cut away so it now barely scrapes her chin. Mere weeks ago, she would have rather died than be seen in that thick cloak and thosedark, heavy boots, but now, she simply looks happy to see me, though I can tell she’s exhausted, deep circles heavy beneath her eyes.

“Y-You’re—how—” I stammer, words faltering on my tongue. “I thought—I thought you were dead.”

Lyra’s smile fades, replaced by a haunted look. Her voice is quiet and raw as she speaks. “I barely made it out, Cal. Everyone else … they didn’t stand a chance. They were trapped in the blaze. The whole village …” She trails off, swallowing hard, eyes flicking away as if she can’t bear to meet my gaze. “Only reason I got out was because I was desperate enough to take the old path, the one you showed me—through the woods, by your herb garden. I got through it before the fire reached it. Nobody would follow.”

The herb garden. The one I’d tended to so carefully, day after day, with Lyra beside me on the days she dared sneak out. My heart aches at the memory, bittersweet and painful. I reach out, needing to still touch her, to confirm she’s still real. My fingers stop just short of her arm, trembling.

“I should have been there,” I whisper, voice breaking. “I should have …”

“No.” Lyra’s voice is firm, cutting through the haze of guilt that threatens to choke me. “Don’t you dare, Calliope. This wasn’t your fault. It was him.” Her gaze hardens, fierce and blazing. “All of this—your capture, the village, the deaths … it’s all on him.”

Arvoren. The name curdles in my mouth like poison.

“I’m here to get you out,” Lyra says quietly, leaning closer. “There’s a group of us—humans, mostly, hidden in the city. They’re good people, mostly from the North. They’re speaking of revolt. They have plans to assassinate the King. I just … Icouldn’t stay here a moment longer without trying to get to you first.”

My throat tightens. Hope flares in me, bright and dangerous, but I force it down.

“I can’t,” I whisper. I lift the hem of my now-muddied skirt to reveal the iron cuffs gleaming darkly around my ankles. The chain that binds me to this castle. To him. “They’re cursed. I can’t leave the grounds.”

Lyra’s eyes widen in horror.

“Bastard,” she breathes, voice trembling with fury. “I’ll—we’llfind a way, Callie. I swear it. We’ll break that damn chain and get you out of here.”

My chest tightens with a rush of emotions; fear, gratitude, despair, all of them at once, the force of them unbearable.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” I murmur, glancing around as if the very walls might betray us. “If he … if anyone finds you …”

“I’ll be fine.” Lyra’s voice is soft but fierce. She reaches out, gripping my hand tightly. Her skin is warm against mine, grounding me in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. “I have allies. I have my wits about me. What happened to us taught me a lot—we need to look out for each other. I won’t let him keep you, Callie. You’re not anyone’s to keep.”

The resolve in her voice is like a lifeline. I squeeze her hand back, heart aching.

“Be careful,” I whisper, throat tight. “Please. The guards know there are outsiders in the city. They’re searching for you. Tell the others to stay hidden, to keep their heads low, at least for a couple of weeks. The king is aware of their presence here. He wants them dead, all of them.”

Lyra nods, eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer. “I’ll find a way to contact you again. Stay strong, Cal. We’ll get you out. I promise.”

Before I can reply, a sudden clamor of voices echoes down the hall, followed by the heavy thud of booted footsteps.

Lyra’s head snaps up, eyes wide with alarm.

“Go,” she hisses, shoving me gently back. “Get out of here. I’ll handle them.”

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