Chapter 22
Lyra
The weather finally broke sometime the day after Mikael left.
After nearly a week of relentless snow and violent winds, the skies had softened into pale gray clouds with only light flurries drifting lazily across the forest. It should have felt reassuring.
Instead, Lyra found herself checking the windows every few minutes while anxiety sat like a stone in her stomach because Beckett’s father remained somewhere beyond the village and the attack on the king had transformed everything around her into uncertainty.
Even the quiet felt temporary now. Normally she was content staying cooped up in the cottage for days on end. But especially since Mikael had gone back to the castle, Lyra felt herself going stir crazy.
Malaya seemed entirely unwilling to let the mood sink too deeply into dread.
“You’re out of groceries,” she announced while standing in front of Lyra’s nearly empty pantry. “And Beckett has approximately four edible things left in this house.”
“I can make that work.”
“One of those four things is ketchup.”
Beckett looked up hopefully from the couch. “I like ketchup.”
“That explains so much,” Malaya muttered.
Lyra laughed despite herself. “You like ketchup on French fries, which we don’t have.”
It startled her slightly how easily Malaya fit into the cottage like a long lost best friend, lounging comfortably across furniture that barely accommodated her long legs while teasing Beckett mercilessly.
Somehow it made the constant fear feel less suffocating simply by refusing to let silence settle too heavily.
Malaya shut the pantry door firmly. “We’re going shopping.”
Lyra hesitated immediately. “I don’t know if that’s smart.”
“Boden left the village,” Malaya reminded her gently and pointed at Beckett. “So you don’t have to worry about your father, and Mikael’s guards are still watching the area whether you notice them or not.” Her mouth curved slightly. “Besides, cabin fever is becoming a genuine threat to my sanity.”
Beckett gasped dramatically. “Can we get candy?”
“That,” Malaya informed him gravely, “depends entirely on whether we get our shopping done first.”
Eventually Lyra agreed, though unease still lingered stubbornly beneath her ribs. They bundled into coats and scarves and headed toward town together beneath the pale afternoon sky.
The village looked more alive than it had in days.
Children played near the square again while market vendors reopened weather-worn stalls beneath strings of lanterns. Smoke curled warmly from chimneys, and villagers greeted Lyra with careful concern that softened slightly whenever they noticed Beckett smiling beside her.
Malaya noticed everything.
“The people here really care about you,” she observed quietly as they crossed the market.
Lyra blinked slightly. “We’ve always looked out for each other.”
“I think it’s more than that.”
Maybe it was. After years of isolation during school, the village itself had slowly become her family in ways she had not fully realized until recently.
They stopped at several stalls gathering supplies while Beckett enthusiastically attempted to negotiate for extra candy with every merchant they passed.
Somewhere between bread and canned soup, Malaya loudly insisted that Lyra needed more baking materials for sweets.
After that, the afternoon became strangely… normal. Almost happy.
At one point while they waited for Beckett to admire a selection of toys, Malaya glanced sideways toward Lyra with obvious curiosity.
“So,” she said casually, “how long were you in love with my brother back in the day?”
Lyra stepped backwards so fast she nearly knocked over a produce display.
“I was not—”
“You absolutely were.”
Heat flooded Lyra’s face instantly. “I was a kid.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
Lyra groaned softly beneath her breath while Malaya grinned triumphantly beside her.
“It was just a crush,” Lyra muttered after a moment. “Mikael was so caught up in Dag’s shadow that I think I felt sorry for him.”
“You mean when the future king was no better than a follower?”
Lyra snorted despite herself. “He was kind sometimes, at least to other people when he was alone. Even when Dag constantly targeted me, your brother never actually joined in.” Her voice softened faintly. “I think I just liked the idea of who he could be.”
The memory still embarrassed her now. She had watched him in crowded school hallways and memorized every rare moment he smiled at her directly. She had pretended not to care whenever he ignored her while standing beside Dag.
Malaya’s expression grew more thoughtful. “He remembers more now that he’s seen you again.”
Lyra glanced toward her.
“The memories from school,” Malaya clarified softly. “And he feels awful about it.”
Lyra looked away quickly before the emotions threatening to surface became too visible. “It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.”
Malaya was right about that. It had mattered, more than Mikael likely understood because cruelty from enemies hurt differently than cruelty from someone you secretly hoped might one day notice you.
Before Lyra could answer, Beckett came running back toward them clutching a small paper bag triumphantly.
“I got chocolate!”
Malaya narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Who gave you sugar?”
“Meren.”
“Traitor,” Malaya muttered.
By the time they finished shopping, the sky had begun darkening again while villagers slowly packed away market stalls before evening snowfall returned. Malaya paused near the edge of the square after spotting one of the royal guards stationed discreetly near the bakery.
“I know him,” she said. “Go ahead toward the cottage. I’ll catch up.”
Lyra hesitated briefly before nodding. “Don’t be long.”
“I make no promises. You’re not the only one who can have a crush.”
Beckett chattered happily beside her while they followed the snowy road toward home carrying bags of supplies between them. His earlier fear seemingly softened for the first time in days beneath the temporary normalcy of the afternoon.
“I think Malaya likes us,” he announced importantly.
Lyra smiled faintly. “I think she does too.”
“And Mikael.”
Her pulse betrayed her instantly at his name.
“Yes,” she admitted softly.
Beckett grinned knowingly in the way children somehow always did when they sensed things adults tried hiding.
The village gradually thinned around them as they approached the outskirts.
That was when Lyra noticed it. Not a sound exactly, but the whisper of a movement behind them where there should have been none.
Her pulse spiked instantly. She glanced back sharply toward the road but saw only drifting snow and empty trees. Every instinct inside her tightened violently.
“Beckett,” she said carefully, “come closer to me.”
He immediately moved beside her. The bags in Lyra’s hands suddenly felt cumbersome and useless as adrenaline surged through her bloodstream hard enough to make her dizzy.
And then everything happened at once.
A figure burst from the trees. One second the road was empty, the next a man lunged directly toward Beckett.
“NO!”
Lyra dropped most of the bags and grabbed Beckett’s arm just as the stranger seized the little boy around the waist. He yanked him backward toward the treeline where a dark vehicle waited partially concealed behind snow-covered pines.
Beckett screamed and pure animal terror exploded through Lyra so hard it erased thought entirely. The man tried dragging Beckett away but Lyra attacked. She managed to grab one of the bags with the canned soup and swung it like a lasso over her head.
There was nothing graceful about it with no strategy at all.
All she had was pure desperation. The cans thunked the guy in the head with such force that his grip on Beckett loosened.
Lyra took the moment to tackle him as she put as much momentum into her shoulder hitting his gut as she could muster.
She slammed into him with enough force that it sent all three of them crashing into the snow. She clawed wildly for a better grip on Beckett’s jacket while the man cursed and tried to regain his grip on the boy.
“LET HIM GO!”
A second man rushed forward from the trees. Lyra grabbed the first thing her hands touched which happened to be a fallen branch buried beneath the snow. She pulled it free and swung it brutally into his face hard enough that he staggered backward with a shout.
Beckett was crying hysterically now and the first man still had hold of him.
Lyra snapped. She drove her elbow directly into the attacker’s throat before ripping Beckett back against her chest while the man choked and stumbled sideways into the snow.
Then another figure slammed into the second attacker from behind.
Malaya.
The princess moved with terrifying efficiency. One brutal strike drove the man to his knees before she twisted his arm sharply enough that something cracked loudly through the air. He screamed and the remaining attackers immediately faltered.
“MOVE!” one of them shouted.
Panic rippled through the group instantly now that villagers had begun yelling in the distance and people rushed toward the commotion.
One attacker lunged again desperately toward Beckett. Malaya caught him with a kick hard enough to send him sprawling back into the snow.
Then they ran.
Within seconds the men disappeared back into the trees, dragging the injured one with them until the hidden vehicle roared to life beyond the treeline before vanishing down the lower road.
Silence crashed down afterward except for Beckett’s sobbing.
Lyra sank shakily to her knees in the snow clutching him against her chest so tightly her arms hurt while his entire body trembled violently beneath her hands.
“It’s okay,” she whispered desperately, though her own voice shook almost as badly as his. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Beckett buried his face against her shoulder crying hard enough to break her heart.
Villagers surrounded them moments later with frightened questions and rising anger, but Lyra barely heard any of it over the roaring panic still pounding through her bloodstream.
Malaya crouched beside them breathing hard, fury blazing across her face while she scanned the treeline for any sign of the attackers returning.
“They knew exactly where to find him,” she said grimly. “And exactly how to hide from the guards.”
Lyra closed her eyes briefly. Even though Boden himself had not appeared, she knew with horrifying certainty who had sent them. He was done searching quietly.
The realization settled cold and terrible inside her chest while Beckett shook uncontrollably in her arms.
Hiding was no longer enough.
Not anymore.