Lyra examined her reflection in the warped steel plate someone had generously called a mirror. It leaned awkwardly on the dresser in a room that felt suspiciously... decent.
A window. A clean floor. A bed.
She stared at the bed like it might bite her.
"Still cute," she muttered, poking at a scab on her temple.
Her reflection distorted into something ghostly with tangled hair and sharp eyes. The room smelled of lavender and polish, offensive, really, after so long with rot and piss.
Everything about the guest room felt… wrong.
"You're either being spoiled or fattened," she muttered to herself.
She moved to the window. Unlatched it. Opened wide.
Cool air touched her face.
She could scale the wall in minutes. Run. Disappear.
So why wasn't she moving?
No chains. No guards.
She should've been halfway to the next country by now.
Someone had dug her out of a hole and offered her a chance again. It stank of a trap.
But it also stank of purpose.
She shrugged as she turned away from the window
"Running's only fun when someone's chasing anyway."
Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, flexing her fingers like they weren't hers.
"Maybe I'm just tired of running," she said quietly. "Or maybe I want dessert first, besides there's always time."
The door creaked.
A voice, cool, unimpressed. "You're not what I expected."
Prince Kaal stood there, still and pale as marble. Not fragile. Just… removed.
Lyra raised a brow. "You've got good posture for someone who was supposedly rotting."
He didn't respond right away. Just looked at her, unreadable. "And you're the one meant to keep me alive."
She grinned. "We all make mistakes."
Silence stretched between them.
"I assume this wasn't your idea," she said, cocking her head. "Dragging a half-dead prince into the mountains?"
"No." His voice was calm. Controlled. "But neither was surviving."
"Now that," she said, rising, "sounds like a party."
She stepped closer, studying him openly. He didn't flinch. Just waited.
"You know I could run," she said. "The door's open. No guards."
"I know."
"You're not stopping me."
"No," he said. "I'm not."
"And yet, here I am." She smirked. "Maybe I'm just curious, you know you're my deadweight now, but I carry emotional baggage well."
He didn't say answer . Didn't need to. His eyes lingered on her briefly, not judgmental, just detached.
A knock at the door
A palace aide entered, eyes lowered. "You're expected in the private throne room, Lady Vael. Her Majesty awaits."
The air in the throne room had bite. Lyra didn't flinch.
Queen Mair sat tall, still as a blade sheathed in silk.
"Lady Vael," she said. "Do you understand the terms?"
Lyra glanced at the parchment. "You mean the part where if i babysit your son through a cursed mountain range supposedly full of gods and ghosts, I earn a shiny certificate of not-being-a-criminal?"
"You'll be free," the queen said. "Truly."
"Hm. I want Joy and J back"
"Who's Joy?"
"And J. My twin daggers."
"You named your daggers?"
"They were confiscated when I was arrested."
The queen took a breath of exasperation.
""They'll be returned. If they're still intact."
Lyra rolled her shoulders and stared at the scroll in front of her. She could sign it and vanish tonight.
But… with a sigh, she dipped the pen and signed.
The ink bled too quickly, like it couldn't wait to bind her.
She stepped back.
"I'll play your game," she said. "But if I die out there, I'm haunting you."
Mair didn't blink. "Only if you die."
The moon lit the rooftops beyond the window.
Lyra stood there, arms folded, the wind tugging at her hair.
Freedom was just a breath away.
She didn't take it.
Something about the boy made her pause, there was something...
Instead, she sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. The silence pressed in.
"You're not escaping," she whispered. "You're choosing to stay."
Her voice barely carried.
"It's not the same."
It had been a long time since she choose anything and maybe that was enough, for now.