WrenThe tea smelled wrong.Chamomile on top, sweet and ordinary. But underneath it, faint as a bruise, something chemical and bitter that crawled to the back of my tongue before I'd even lifted the cup. I knew that smell. I had spent six months teaching my body to recognise it."Drink up, darling," Lyra said.She sat on the edge of my bed with her ankles crossed, hands folded in her lap like a girl in a Sunday school photograph. The tray balanced on my knees. My phone, the cheap hidden one Kael had smuggled in, lay under the pillow, and it had been silent for four minutes. I'd sent my question and heard nothing back, and every second of that nothing pressed on my ribs.I rocked. I hummed. I let my eyes slide off her face and settle on the cup."You always drank first," I said, in the soft, wandering voice I'd built for her. "When we were small. You said if it was poisoned, you'd rather go first."Lyra's smile held. Barely. "Did I?""You were seven. You were so brave." I lifted the cu
Last Updated : 2026-10-29 Read more