CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Lyra’s pov

I didn’t think I could fly. Not with these broken wings.

And yet… standing there in the quiet between Ronan and me, our breath still mingling, hearts skimming the edge of something dangerous and delicate… I thought maybe I could.

Then her voice shattered it all.

“Oh, how precious.”

My heart dropped to the floor before my gaze even found her.

Chloe.

Her hips swayed with that smug self-importance she wore like perfume. Arms crossed, a cruel smirk dancing on her lips, she stepped into the room like it already belonged to her.

“Didn’t take long for the stray to worm her way into my place.”

Her voice curled like smoke through the air, thick with venom, eyes burning into me like fire.

I tensed. My body hadn’t even fully healed from everything and now this?

Ronan’s presence shifted beside me, jaw tightening, but he didn’t say anything yet.

Chloe walked forward, hips swaying, never once taking her eyes off me.

“Of course you’d go for the king,” she sneered. “Dirty little thing like you. Moonstone trash. Whore of a slave.”

Each word hit like a lash.

My fingers curled tightly against the fabric of my dress, breath quickening. I opened my mouth—though I didn’t even know what I would say—but Chloe beat me to it.

“Trying to seduce your way to the top, hmm?” Her voice dripped with fake high pitched voice. “Just like your mother must’ve done.”

That tore through me.

A sharp inhale escaped my lips as her words dug straight into my chest.

My mother…

I didn't even know her and yet Chloe had just painted her as nothing. No amount of insult has ever hurt like this.

I felt Ronan step forward.

Finally.

But before he could speak, the doors swung open again and a gust of cold wind burst through the throne room.

I turned, and dread crept up my spine.

Four figures entered.

Chloe’s parents—Lord and Lady Marrowind— I had heard about them and i could see the resemblance between the and their daughter in their regal, proud, eyes sharp like razors.

Behind them, a tall young man with golden-brown hair that shimmered like polished bronze—Chloe’s older brother, I assumed.

And then the youngest—a delicate girl with amber eyes and hair braided with tiny silver threads. She couldn’t have been older than fourteen.

“What is all this noise?” Lady Marrowind asked, her voice as clipped and icy as ever. “We could hear the screaming halfway down the east wing.”

Chloe immediately straightened, her expression softening into that manipulative sweetness she used like armor.

“Mother, Father,” she said, voice coated in sugar. “Forgive the scene, I only rushed in because I was deeply disturbed.”

Her mother raised a brow. “By what?”

Chloe turned back toward us, then gestured with a dramatic wave toward me.

“By her.”

Lady Marrowind’s eyes followed her daughter’s finger and landed on me.

Their stares burned.

“She was… making advances at the king,” Chloe said with mock horror. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

Her father’s brows furrowed. “A slave?”

Her brother’s eyes narrowed.

The little sister looked at me with wide, confused eyes. Not hateful just puzzled.

“She touched him,” Chloe added, her voice now rising. “Inappropriately. Tried to kiss him. It was revolting. I couldn’t just stand by and watch her throw herself at His Majesty.”

I could hardly breathe.

Lies. Every single word a carefully crafted lie.

My head whipped to Ronan. Surely he would say something. He’d heard it all. Seen it all. He knew exactly what had happened. He knew the truth.

My eyes pleaded with him.

Tell them.

Tell them the truth.

But he stood still. Eyes cold and guarded.

A pause.

Then Lord Marrowind stepped forward. “Your Majesty,” he said formally. “Might I suggest you ask the… servant to excuse us while we discuss this matter privately?”

My heart clenched.

No. No, no, no.

Ronan’s jaw tensed.

I could see the war waging behind those icy eyes. The flicker of gold that threatened to take over.

Please.

Don’t do this.

And then he said it.

“Lyra,” he murmured.

I froze.

His voice wasn’t cruel. But it wasn’t soft, either.

“Leave us.”

My lungs caved in on themselves.

The world spun. My legs locked in place.

He… he was sending me away?

After everything?

After calling me his mate. After touching me like I mattered.

He was letting them paint me like some lowly seductress? Like a liar?

I blinked slowly.

Something broke inside me then. Something small but important.

Of course.

Of course this was how it ended. How it always ended.

They don’t pick you, Lyra.

Not when they have a throne. A kingdom. A name.

You’re always the mistake.

Always the shadow behind someone else’s light.

My mouth was dry as I lowered my head.

“As you wish… Your Majesty.”

My voice cracked, but I wouldn’t let it fall apart completely. Not in front of them.

I turned, one foot moving in front of the other like they were made of stone.

Every step echoed like betrayal. Each one louder than the last.

I didn’t cry.

Not yet.

But inside?

Inside, I was bleeding.

By the time I reached the door, I felt their eyes on my back—Chloe’s smug satisfaction, her mother’s superiority, her father’s judgment.

And Ronan’s silence.

It followed me all the way out.

And this time…

He didn’t stop me.