CROWN OF GLASS AND ASH

Chapter 1: The Burn That Holds the Lie

Lyra pov 

The door handle turned the rest of the way, and the physician stepped inside as if he had every right.

I was still seated on the edge of the bed, bindings half-unwrapped, the bruise on my wrist darkening into the clear shape of Ashford’s fingers. There was no time to cover it. The man closed the door behind him with the same soft click he always used, the one that sounded careful and kind. His smile was already in place, gentle, paternal, the exact expression that had kept me trusting him for years even while the rest of me learned not to trust anyone.

“You overexerted yourself again,” he said, voice low and warm. He set his medical case on the small table and began unpacking without waiting for permission. “I felt the spike from the spar all the way in the east wing. Stubborn boy. You know better.”

I kept my eyes down and let the meek gratitude settle over my face like a second skin. “I’m sorry. Ashford insisted.”

“He always does.” The physician’s hands were steady as he prepared the new dose. The liquid in the vial was darker than usual, thicker. “This one is stronger. It will hold longer, but the side effects will be sharper. Fever. Tremors. Possible nausea. You must rest after.”

He stepped closer. I forced myself not to flinch when his fingers brushed the inside of my elbow, searching for the vein. The needle slid in with practiced ease. The burn that followed was immediate and vicious, worse than any morning dose. It raced up my arm and spread under my ribs like liquid metal. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the sound in.

“There,” he murmured, almost soothing. “Breathe through it. You’re safe now.”

Safe. The word sat wrong in the air. I watched his face while the drug took hold. Every line of concern looked real. Every soft word sounded sincere. Yet the informant’s list still burned in my memory, Kaelan’s name circled at the bottom, and this man’s questions about shipments sat behind those kind eyes. I catalogued the exact pitch of his voice, the way his gaze flicked once to the bruise on my wrist and then away, the faint scent of antiseptic and something older that clung to his coat.

“Thank you,” I said, exactly as I had said a hundred times before. Soft. Grateful. Harmless.

He lingered longer than necessary, adjusting the dose schedule, reminding me to send for him at the first sign of another spike. His hand rested briefly on my shoulder in a fatherly gesture that made my skin crawl beneath the performance. When he finally left, the lock clicked again from the outside. I waited until his footsteps faded completely before I let the mask drop.

My arm throbbed. The new suppressant sat heavy in my blood, already stirring a low, constant heat that promised a rough night. I rewrapped the bindings with shaking fingers, covering Ashford’s bruise, and pressed my forehead to my knees. The physician had given me exactly what I needed to keep the lie intact. He had also given me another reason to wonder how long he had been planning to take it away.

I did not sleep. Every time the fever climbed, I tasted the edge of my own scent and forced it back down with pure will. Somewhere past midnight, a different set of footsteps paused outside my door, heavier, restless, and then moved on. Ashford, or Ren. I no longer trusted myself to tell the difference in the dark.

By dawn the stronger dose had settled into a vicious equilibrium. My skin felt too tight. My thoughts ran sharp and slightly fevered. I dressed in the full uniform, practiced the limp until it looked natural again, and stepped into the corridor ready to face whatever the day demanded.

A junior officer waited near the main stairs with a sealed order in his hand. The royal party was departing for the forward outpost within the hour. Inspection of the eastern ridge defences. My presence was required; Kaelan’s signature sat at the bottom of the page in cold black ink.

I folded the order, slid it into my sleeve beside the hidden list, and felt the new suppressant pulse once under my skin like a warning.