Chapter 5 : Nyra

Lucian had expected her to leave.

He had expected it the first night, when she'd discovered that the wall near the stables was no longer as easy to cross as it had appeared.

He'd expected it the following morning when she'd found the horses available again.

Instead, she'd stayed.

He hadn't stopped her.

Not exactly.

There had been a few precautions. Quiet adjustments to the patrols. A guard posted where he normally wouldn't have been. An instruction that no horse was to leave the grounds without someone knowing where it was headed.

Nothing that would make a guest feel imprisoned.

Nothing that would prevent someone determined enough from leaving.

He'd simply made leaving a little less convenient.

And Nyra had remained.

Lucian stood at the study window, watching the courtyard below.

She was there again.

Lady Ashwood sat near the edge of the training yard, one leg crossed over the other as she watched two young wolves practice their footwork.

She'd stopped pretending she was merely passing through.

He found that more interesting than he should have.

Most people who entered Blackthorn with an objective never forgot what they had come to accomplish. They watched the territory for weaknesses. They counted guards. They measured distances.

She had done all of those things.

Then she'd started watching people instead.

Lucian had noticed.

He'd noticed nearly everything about her since the night she arrived.

The way her eyes moved before her head did. The way she positioned herself with a wall at her back whenever she entered an unfamiliar room. The way she listened to conversations without appearing to. The way her expression remained calm even when something clearly unsettled her.

He left the study.

By the time he reached the training yard, Nyra had moved on.

He found her near the courtyard instead, standing beneath the covered walkway with her attention fixed on a group of wolves preparing for the evening meal.

One of them said something that made the others laugh.

Nyra smiled.

It was brief and clearly unconscious.

Then she caught herself and smoothed the expression away.

Lucian stopped a short distance from her.

“You're getting better at pretending you're not enjoying yourself.”

She turned.

“And you're getting better at appearing when I'm not expecting you.”

“Appearing?”

“Watching.”

“That too.”

She gave him a dry look.

He smiled.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The noise of the courtyard carried around them. Someone called for more firewood. A child shouted from across the grounds. Two wolves argued over something that appeared to involve a missing knife.

Nyra glanced toward the commotion.

“You really let them behave like this?”

Lucian followed her gaze.

“Like what?”

“Like...” She trailed off.

He looked back at her, understanding what she meant.

“I'd have a very unpleasant pack if I didn't.”

She considered that.

“Most Alphas would disagree.”

“Most Alphas aren't responsible for my pack.”

The corner of her mouth lifted.

There it was again.

That almost-smile.

Lucian found himself wanting to see it stay.

“You've been here a few days,” he said.

“I noticed.”

“And you haven't asked to leave.”

Her eyes shifted toward the courtyard.

“I haven't.”

“Why?”

“I'm still deciding.”

Lucian nodded as though that answer satisfied him.

It didn't.

Nyra eventually looked back at him.

“Why did you let me stay?”

Lucian considered his answer.

He could have told her it was because he was curious.

Instead, he said, “It's dangerous out there.”

She stared at him for a second.

Then she broke into a long, drawn-out laugh, almost doubling over as she held her stomach.

“You're joking,” she managed when she finally caught her breath.

“Am I? What's a lady like you doing traveling alone and unattended?”

“Well, sometimes ladies can take care of themselves,” she muttered, her voice devoid of humour.

“I suppose the ladies haven't been informed about the threats around the eastern borders.” He paused. “Or perhaps the ladies themselves are responsible for that threat.”

Her laughter vanished.

She met his eyes head-on, her face settling into a blank mask.

Lucian gave her a flat look of his own.

For a while, they simply stood there, dueling with their eyes.

Then Lucian said, “There's something I've been meaning to ask you.”

“What?”

Her tone was carefully deadpan.

“Why 'Lady Ashwood'?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

Silence.

He didn't push, but he didn't look away either.

He could almost see the decision taking shape behind her eyes.

Lie.

Deflect.

Walk away.

It was probably what she'd done whenever someone asked a question she didn't want to answer.

Lucian waited.

Finally, he said, “Does a fake name really matter in the grand scheme of things?”

Her eyes returned to his.

They both knew what he meant.

The blade beneath her dress and the reason she'd crossed into Blackthorn.

For the first time since he'd asked, the tension in her face eased.

A small, dry smile replaced it.

“No.”

Lucian said nothing and she watched him for another long moment.

Then she exhaled.

“Nyra.”