Chapter 5

Lyra

I stood in that hallway and let those words find every single part of me, something I didn't even know I was still holding onto just... broke quietly.

That brother of mine would burn the entire world to make sure I was safe, I needed to stop looking for that man in Kael's face.

He wasn't in there anymore.

I walked back to the guest room, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at my hands in my lap until the window went from black to grey to the pale gold of early morning.

By the time the smell of breakfast drifted up through the floorboards I'd already been dressed for two hours, sitting at the window watching the pack's early risers move across the grounds below.

Warriors heading to the training field. Juveniles chasing each other between the trees. A group of elderly women crossing toward the meeting hall with their morning tea.

A whole world that had kept moving without me.

I went downstairs.

The dining hall was warm and loud and completely indifferent to my existence. Pack members filled every chair, conversations running over each other, someone laughing too loud near the window, the smell of fresh bread and hot coffee hanging over everything like a promise.

Nobody had saved me a seat.

I stood in the doorway for a moment just taking it in. Watching eyes land on me and slide away.

I turned and walked to the kitchen.

The kitchen went quiet the second I pushed the door open. Four staff members were looking at me with some variation of the same expression. Like I was something that had wandered in from outside and was now touching the furniture.

The head cook was a tall woman with a sharp face and flour dusted across her dark apron. She looked me up and down once.

"Dining hall's through there," she said with disgust.

"The buffet's cleared and there's nothing to eat.."

"It was cleared twenty minutes ago, that's not my fault" She turned back to the counter like she was done with me

"Is there anything left?"

She didn't answer immediately. Then she turned, picked up a plate from beside the sink and held it out without walking toward me.

I crossed the kitchen to take it. It was last night's stew. A heel of bread gone hard at the edges sitting beside it. Scraped together from what the pots had left behind after everyone who mattered had already eaten.

"That's what's left." Her voice was flat as a closed door. "Take it or don't."

"Thank you," I said.

Something shifted in her expression. Barely. Like she'd loaded a gun and I'd just refused to flinch.

I walked out before she could reload.

….

I sat at the far end of the dining hall with my back against the wall.

It's an old habit I got in Ironmoo, you never sat with your back exposed. You never put food down where you couldn't see it. You never looked up from your plate too slowly when someone sat near you because slow meant distracted and distracted meant vulnerable.

My body still ran those rules whether I wanted it to or not.

I ate fast and without looking up. The stew was cold and slightly over-salted and it was genuinely better than most of what I'd eaten for the last three years. That wasn't self-pity. That was just the truth.

I was almost finished when the chair beside me scraped back.

My head came up before I finished deciding to move it. That Reflex and a sudden movement near your food in Ironmoor meant you were about to lose it.

Darian dropped into the seat like he owned it. Like he owned most things. He looked rested and annoyingly put together, like a man who had slept a full eight hours and taken his time with breakfast. He looked at my plate.

"That's all you're eating?"

"Good morning," I said and went back to my stew.

Four seconds of silence. Which for Darian was practically a spiritual achievement.

"You really did learn a lot in there." His voice had that easy conversational tone he used when he was about to say something that wasn't easy or conversational at all. "The whole eating scraps routine is very compelling."

He tilted his head slightly. "Is the tragic expression something you've been working on or does it just come naturally now?"

I set my spoon down and looked at him properly for the first time since he sat down.

"Are you this exhausting with everyone," I said, "or am I just lucky?"

Something sparked behind his eyes. "There she is."

"Don't start Darian."

"I'm just saying—"

"I know what you're saying." I picked my spoon back up. "You've been saying it since yesterday so wrap it up."

His jaw tightened….just slightly. I knew that jaw. I knew every version of that expression. I knew this one meant he was done being casual.

"The victims' families are gathering this afternoon." His voice is flat now and hard underneath. "Real people, Lyra. People who lost sons and fathers and brothers because of what happened to that battle plan." He watched my face like he was looking for something specific in it.

"You should be there. Stand in front of them, kneel down and say the words." His eyes dropped to my plate and back up. "Instead of sitting here eating cold leftovers where everyone can see you and feel sorry for you."

I swallowed and let the words settle down. The dining hall had gone quieter around us.

People pretending not to listen while absolutely listening. I picked up my plate and stood up.

His hand closed around my wrist roughly.

I looked down at his hand on my wrist. At those familiar fingers that had once laced through mine like they belonged there. "Let go of me, Darian."