Chapter Six: A King's Offer

Lyra’s POV

"You can't be serious."

Rowan's voice carried across the small clearing, half amused, half genuinely startled. He was staring at Cassian like the King had just suggested walking into the Whispering Forest without a weapon.

"I am serious," Cassian said, not looking away from me. "She's coming to Silver Fang Capital."

"As what, exactly?" Rowan crossed his arms. "A guest? A prisoner? Because those tend to require very different paperwork, and I don't think either one is going to sit well with the Council."

"As someone under my protection," Cassian said. "That's all the paperwork requires."

I still hadn't found my voice. Somewhere behind us, the last of the wolves that had circled the clearing were gone — driven off, I'd gathered, by Cassian and Rowan together, though I hadn't seen it happen. My legs still felt unsteady from whatever had chased me through the mist.

"I don't need protection," I said finally. "I need to figure out where I'm going next. On my own."

"On your own, with no pack, no coin, and something out there hunting you specifically," Cassian said. "How exactly does that plan end well?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I don't know you either. Or him." I glanced at Rowan, who at least had the decency to look sheepish. "For all I know, this is exactly the kind of offer Elders warn young wolves about."

"Fair," Rowan said, before Cassian could answer. "Though for the record, most Elders warning young wolves aren't talking about the actual King showing up in person. Usually it's some rogue promising riches in a border town."

"That's not comforting."

"It's not meant to be comforting. It's meant to be honest." Rowan shrugged. "I like honest better than comforting most days."

I studied Cassian again, searching his expression for whatever angle I was clearly missing. Kings did not personally escort strangers to their capital. Kings had people for that — soldiers, diplomats, anyone whose death wouldn't destabilize an entire kingdom.

"Why?" I asked. "Why does this matter to you at all? You don't know me."

Something flickered behind his silver eyes, gone before I could name it. "Because whoever sent those wolves after you wanted you dead before you reached the border. That tells me you're worth killing to someone with real resources. I'd like to know why, and I'd like you alive while we find out."

"That's not an answer. That's a strategy."

"It's both," he said. "I don't waste time pretending otherwise."

I almost respected that, which annoyed me more than it should have.

"And if I say no?" I asked. "If I decide to take my chances alone?"

"Then I'll have Rowan escort you to the nearest town with coin enough to get you started somewhere safe, and we'll part ways." Cassian's jaw tightened slightly, like the words cost him something to say. "I'm not going to force you into my court, Lyra. I'm offering, not commanding."

"You say that like it's simple." I wrapped my arms around myself, the borrowed cloak still heavy on my shoulders. "Everyone in my life who's ever claimed to be protecting me ended up being the reason I needed protecting in the first place."

The clearing went quiet at that. Rowan, for once, didn't offer a joke to fill the silence.

"I can't promise I'm different," Cassian said finally. "I can only promise I'm not lying to you about what I want, which is more than you got from wherever you came from, if I'm reading that mark on your skin correctly."

Heat crawled up my neck. "You don't know anything about it."

"I know a rejection mark that fresh means someone stood in front of you and everyone you've ever known, and chose to humiliate you instead of protecting you," he said, voice flat and certain. "I know that because I've spent ten years watching cowards make similar choices for political convenience. I'm not asking you to trust me completely. I'm asking you to survive long enough to decide whether you should."

I opened my mouth to argue and found, infuriatingly, that I didn't have one ready.

"He's not wrong," Rowan offered, quieter now, the humor gone from his voice. "For what it's worth. Cassian doesn't do grand gestures. If he's making one for you, it's because something about this matters more than politics."

"That's supposed to reassure me?"

"Little bit, yeah."

I looked between them — the King who spoke like every word cost him something, and his closest friend who seemed determined to translate him honestly even when it wasn't flattering — and felt something in my chest loosen just slightly, the way it had back at the fire when Cassian had called Kael a coward without hesitation.

"If I come with you," I said slowly, "I want it understood that I'm not anyone's obligation. Not a guest to be managed, not a mystery to be solved for your own curiosity. If I stay, I stay because I choose to."

"Understood," Cassian said, without a flicker of argument.

"And if I want to leave later, I leave. No conditions."

"None."

I studied his face for any sign he was simply telling me what I wanted to hear, the way Kael always had right up until the moment it mattered most. I found none of that familiar performance. Just steady, silver-eyed patience, waiting for my answer instead of assuming it.

"All right," I said, before I could talk myself out of it. "Silver Fang Capital, then."

Rowan clapped his hands together once, breaking the tension. "Excellent. I'll go fetch the horses, and someone remind me to never bet against Cassian's terrible instincts again, because apparently they're occasionally good."

"They're not terrible instincts," Cassian said, the ghost of something almost like humor in his voice for the first time since I'd woken.

"They absolutely are, most days," Rowan called back over his shoulder, already walking toward the tree line. "Today's just the exception."

I watched him go, then turned back to find Cassian still watching me, that same careful intensity in his gaze that made my skin feel too warm despite the cold morning air.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For the offer. Even if I'm still not entirely sure I'm making the right choice."

"You don't have to be sure," he said. "You just have to decide, and keep deciding, one day at a time, until it stops feeling like a risk."

"That's oddly wise for a man everyone describes as ruthless."

"Everyone describes me as a lot of things," he said, something guarded slipping back over his expression. "Most of it's useful to let them believe."

Before I could ask what that meant, a low growl rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest — not aimed at me, but past me, toward the ridge overlooking the clearing.

I turned to follow his gaze and saw nothing but trees and shadow, mist still clinging low to the ground.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"We're being watched," Cassian said, voice dropping to something quiet and lethal. "Have been for the last several minutes."

My heart slammed against my ribs. "By who?"

His silver eyes never left the ridge, jaw set hard enough that I understood, with sudden cold certainty, that whatever answer he gave next wasn't going to make the morning feel any safer.

"I don't know yet," he said. "But they're not pack, and they're not rogues. Someone sent them. Someone who already knew exactly where to find you.”