CHAPTER NINE

Lyra’s pov

The world came back slowly.

Like fog lifting from a lake, the haze in my mind began to clear, and I became aware of warmth wrapped around me—the softness of blankets, the distant crackle of a fire, and the gentle scent of herbs in the air. The light was dim, golden and flickering, casting soft shadows on the wooden beams above me.

Where…?

I shifted slightly, and a sharp ache throbbed in my skull. My breath hitched.

I heard a rustle of movement to my left, and then a soft gasp. I turned my head, barely, and a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and grey-streaked hair rushed to my side.

“You’re awake,” she said, placing a cool hand on my forehead. “Thank the spirits. You gave us quite a scare, girl.”

I tried to sit up, but she placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Easy,” she said gently. “You've been unconscious for over a week.”

A week.

The words echoed in my head.

I blinked at her, confusion weighing me down. “What… happened?”

She frowned thoughtfully but didn’t answer. “You should rest. I’ll get the King.”

Of course. Ronan.

My heart sank.

He didn’t take long. Moments later, his heavy footsteps echoed through the hut, and I felt the air shift. He stepped inside like a storm with his commanding presence, tall and unreadable in black and grey clothing. His golden eyes locked onto mine, sharp as blades.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice flat. “What happened?”

I nodded slowly, still dazed. “I… I don’t know what happened. One moment I was with Garrick, then there was a voice, a… crack—and then nothing.”

He stared at me for a moment, too long, and I wondered if he could see the confusion swimming in my head.

“Whatever it was, it’s over,” he finally said. “You’re mostly healed. No more excuses.”

I swallowed.

“You’ll resume your duties as my slave immediately.”

Just like that.

Then he turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with finality.

I stared at the empty space he left behind, the tension he always seemed to carry in his wake lingering in the air. I knew better than to hope for kindness. Still… a small part of me had.

The healer helped me sit up and handed me the folded, freshly cleaned uniform. I dressed quickly, ignoring the slight dizziness, and thanked her quietly before slipping out of the hut.

The kingdom was alive around me. Cold, crisp air filling my lungs as I stepped onto the stone path. The streets were lined with tall trees woven into the structures themselves. Ivy trailed along stone walls, and shimmering lanterns dangled from woven branches. Wolves in human form trained in wide yards, children chased one another in bursts of laughter, and market stalls were already bustling. It was peaceful here… strange, after everything I’d been told about this place.

I made my way to the King's wing.

At the top of the wide stone steps, a familiar figure stood waiting.

“Garrick,” I said in surprise.

He turned, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

His tone was warm. Genuine.

Something tugged inside me, and for the first time in what felt like forever, my lips curled into a small smile. “I’m alright. A little dizzy, but no pain.”

Garrick tilted his head, studying me. “You should smile more. It suits you.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Compliments were not something I was used to—especially not from someone who wasn’t trying to get something in return.

Heat crept up my cheeks. I looked away, flustered.

And then I felt it.

A searing heat burning into the back of my head.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. I felt him.

I turned slowly to see King Ronan standing several paces behind us, his golden eyes unreadable as they flicked between me and Garrick. There was no rage on his face, no hate but the intensity of his gaze was enough to make my heart quicken.

I straightened instinctively, lowering my eyes in submission.

He didn’t speak. Just held my gaze a second longer before turning away and disappearing into his chambers.

The air felt heavier suddenly.

I looked back at Garrick, who was watching the King’s retreating back with a thoughtful expression.

Before I could say anything, he cleared his throat and reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder. “This is for you.”

He handed me a thick scroll, the parchment heavy in my hand. I unrolled it, and my eyes widened. It was a detailed list—chores, errands, tasks I couldn’t even identify. The writing was neat, ruthless in its specificity.

“That’s… a lot,” I said dryly.

Garrick gave a sheepish smile. “The King’s orders. He said to give it to you personally.”

I sighed and nodded. “It’s fine. I’m used to worse. Suffering and I have been longtime companions.”

I expected silence, maybe pity.

But Garrick just looked at me again with that strange expression—like he was trying to figure something out. “You’re… something else, Lyra.”

I blinked.

“There’s more to you than you let on,” he said softly, then stepped back. “Anyway, I should go. Don’t forget to eat, alright?”

His voice was lighter, almost teasing, but the concern underneath it made something warm bloom in my chest.

He was… kind.

I hadn’t been treated with kindness in so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like. And now, here it was—quiet, unexpected, and honest. Not from someone who pitied me, but someone who genuinely cared.

I watched him walk away, my fingers curled around the scroll.

Then, I turned and approached the King’s chamber. My steps were quiet, but my heart was louder—pounding with confusion, warmth, and the beginnings of something I didn’t yet have a name for.