Fated to the Alpha Widow
she said, voice cracking, and the tunnel air recoiled as if the name carried bone-fire.
Lyra’s eyes widened—one flicker of real surprise.
Maeven’s chest burned.
Because a Bone Seer didn’t speak her own full name in a contested space.
A name was a door.
Maeven just opened hers on purpose.
Lyra’s smile sharpened. “There,” she breathed. “That’s my good girl.”
Maeven’s voice turned hard. “No,” she snarled. “That’s your mistake.”
She slammed her palm onto the stone, bones spilling from her fist.