CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Lyra’s pov

I couldn’t move.

My heart was a violent drum in my chest, pounding so hard I thought it might break free. The king stood just inches from me, the heat of his presence crawling over my skin like a second cloak. And his words—those words—kept echoing in my skull:

“I saw what touched you.”

He knew. Somehow, he knew about the dream. The vision. The silver light that had reached for me like a mother’s hand.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came. He stared at me in silence, and for a moment, I thought he was going to yell again, accuse me of something, push me away like he had before.

But instead… his voice was quiet.

“I don’t want you to avoid me.”

I blinked.

“I know I…” He ran a hand down his face, pausing like the words were heavy. “I know I’ve been—difficult. But I’m not a cruel king, Lyra. I just—” He sighed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

It wasn’t an apology. Not really. But there was something in the way he said it. A hesitation. A shameful edge, like he was trying to scrape the words together from somewhere deep inside him. As if saying sorry was foreign to his mouth.

My fingers dug into my palms. I didn’t trust him—not fully. But I understood what it meant to be swallowed by emotions you couldn’t explain.

The silence between us thickened again.

But something had shifted.

His expression changed. His face softened as he took a slow breath and, for the first time since I’d met him, his golden eyes dimmed. He closed them then opened them again.

And I gasped.

Where fierce gold had glowed, now icy blue remained. Piercing. Stunning. They stole the air from my lungs.

“I didn’t know your eyes could do that,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “They don’t. Not often.”

My mouth snapped shut as heat rushed to my cheeks. Idiot.

But then he chuckled—a low, warm sound that melted a layer of the frozen wall between us.

“I need to see something,” he said softly, his voice almost too tender to belong to a man like him. “Please. Don’t move.”

My breath caught, but I nodded. I didn’t know what he meant, but something in the way he said please made my knees wobble.

His hand came up slowly, like he was afraid I’d vanish if he moved too fast. His fingers brushed the side of my face, and—

Spark.

The contact sent something electric rushing under my skin. My breath hitched. His eyes widened.

He felt it too.

I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t even realize the word had formed in my mouth.

But I heard it.

“Mate.”

The same word echoed inside my head. But it wasn’t my voice. It was… her. My wolf. Dormant for so long I’d almost forgotten what she sounded like.

Her presence slammed into me like a big wave, I felt grief, longing, confusion, relief wash over me. She was awake.

And beside me, Ronan whispered the same word, stunned. “Mate.”

Everything stopped.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

All I could see was a memory.

Kael.

His eyes when he looked at me like I was nothing.

His voice when he called me a mistake.

His mouth when it kissed my sister—my own blood—in front of the entire kingdom.

His words—so sharp they carved themselves into my bones. “I reject you.”

The world tilted.

I stumbled back like I’d been shoved, shaking violently.

“No…” The word escaped from my lips before I could even finish thinking. “No, no, no…”

“Lyra—” Ronan took a step forward, concern etching his features.

“Don’t,” I whispered, voice trembling.

“Please—”

And then it happened.

The scream tore out of me before I even knew I was capable of it. It wasn’t just a scream—it was pain, it was fear, it was every jagged wound I’d stitched shut bursting open again.

“NO!”

The sound rang through the halls like thunder. Ronan flinched. Literally staggered backward like I’d physically struck him.

Good.

Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and endless. I could hardly see.

“You’re just like him…” I whispered. My voice was ragged. “You all are.”

Then I ran.

I didn’t look back.

Didn’t see if he followed.

Didn’t care.

My chest ached, lungs burning, but I didn’t stop. I needed to get away—far away.

Because I’d rather run into the arms of death than be someone’s second chance again.