Page 44 of The Onyx Covenant

There’s no hiding the truth—whatever broke between us a year ago isn’t completely shattered. The pieces remain, jagged and dangerous, waiting to be reassembled into something new.

Returning seemed to take us less time.

“Congratulations!” Melian’s voice comes from nearby. Her hands are there, untying my blindfold, then the rope binding me to Lyra. “You’re the first to return successfully.”

Light floods my vision, momentarily blinding me. When my sight clears, I glance at Lyra blinking beside me, a small scratch on her brow from the branch. She’s never looked more beautiful—wild and fierce and alive in a way that makes my chest ache.

Melian holds out her hand, and Lyra places the folded parchment in it. Instead of taking it, Melian smiles. “This is yours to keep—a message from the heart tree. When you’re ready, make your way to the side of the training yard. We’ll be practicing defense moves next.”

As Melian walks away, I glance down at Lyra, something vulnerable flickering across her face.

“What does it say?” I ask, glancing at the parchment in her grasp.

She raises and unfolds it.

“Two paths diverged in ancient woods,

Yet shared one destination.

Trust not the common solitude,

But the uncommon alliance.”

She stares at the words. “What do you think it means?”

“Maybe that some battles aren’t meant to be fought alone,” I say, holding her gaze. “Whatever lies ahead, we’re stronger together than apart.”

“Poetic,” she states, but there’s no mockery in her tone.

“I have my moments.”

“Come on,” she says, tucking the parchment into her pocket. “Let’s show them what anuncommon alliancecan do.”

“Is that what we are now?” I ask, unable to keep the hope from my voice. “Allies?”

Her gaze meets mine. “It’s a start.”

Those eyes still hypnotize me. There’s dirt on her cheek and that scratch on her brow, but they only make her look more alive. More real. More mine.

She’s changed this past year—leaner, harder. The soft priestess edges worn away to reveal something dangerous beneath. Something that matches the wolf inside her.

I want to run my thumb across that scratch, taste the salt on her skin, and press her against the nearest tree until those lavender eyes go dark with wanting. Until she admits what we both know.

As we walk toward the training field, I can’t help but smile. She can pretend all she wants that the wall between us is still intact, but I felt it crumbling in that forest, touch by touch. And now that I’ve found a crack in her defenses, I won’t stop until I’ve torn them down completely.

She may not be mine yet. But she will be. It’s only a matter of time.

ChapterEight

LYRA

The Hall of Champions steals my breath away the moment we enter. Towering obsidian pillars stretch toward a vaulted ceiling where thousands of crystals dangle like frozen stars, scattering the light from massive iron chandeliers dripping with thick white candles. Their flames dance and flicker, casting long shadows that seem to move with a life of their own across the midnight-blue walls inlaid with silver runes that pulse with ancient fae magic.

A table stretches the length of the hall—ancient ironwood polished to a gleam, the surface so dark it reflects our faces like a still lake at midnight. Silver platters overflow with steaming food, goblets gleam in the candlelight, and the air is heavy with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and freshly baked bread.

I salivate at the smells.

I adjust the sleeve of the new training clothes we were given for dinner—soft leather pants and a fitted tunic in Elios deep blue. Over the top of that is a fitted jacket I carry in my hands for now.

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