Chapter 26
Lyra
The castle had never stopped feeling cold to Lyra, no matter how many fires burned behind stone hearths or how many servants bowed their heads when she passed through the endless corridors draped in banners bearing Mikael’s crest.
There were moments when the grandeur almost stole her breath, like the candlelight reflecting against polished marble floors and the towering windows that overlooked snow-covered cliffs, yet beneath all of it lingered the same quiet awareness that she did not belong here the way everyone else did.
Or perhaps worse, they believed she would not belong for very long.
She saw it in the glances exchanged between nobles during dinner feasts and in the whispers that died too quickly whenever she entered a room holding Beckett’s hand.
Some servants had grown warmer toward her after Mikael’s increasingly open devotion made it impossible to deny her importance.
But others still looked at her with thinly veiled curiosity, as though she were some fascinating creature temporarily occupying the king’s attention before reality eventually corrected itself.
The flower girl. The commoner.
Whatever name they chose, she was nothing more than the king’s newest obsession.
Temporary.
The word followed her everywhere even when nobody spoke it aloud and made her chest ache in ways she could not explain.
Somehow Beckett had adapted to castle life far faster than she had.
The sound of laughter echoed across the training courtyard below Lyra’s balcony and drew her attention downward. Snow drifted lazily through pale afternoon sunlight, and despite the heaviness inside her, she found herself smiling before she could stop it.
Mikael stood in the center of the courtyard with a wooden practice sword resting over one broad shoulder while Beckett attempted to imitate his stance several feet away. The child’s face scrunched with fierce concentration beneath a wool cap that kept slipping crooked over one eye.
“No,” Mikael said, though amusement warmed his deep voice. “Again. Your footing is weak.”
Beckett huffed dramatically. “I’m little.”
“You are careless.”
“I’m six.”
“That is not an excuse.”
Beckett lunged anyway, wildly overcommitting himself in a way that made Lyra instinctively tense. Mikael moved with impossible speed before the wooden sword could even connect and caught Beckett around the waist. He lifted him effortlessly into the air while the boy shrieked with startled laughter.
“It appears that I have defeated the enemy.”
“That’s cheating!”
“It is strategy.”
“That’s not strategy!”
Mikael’s mouth twitched with rare softness as he set Beckett back onto his feet. “Every ruler says that after losing.”
Lyra leaned lightly against the balcony railing while something fragile and painful unfolded inside her chest. Beckett looked happy. Not like the cautious child accustomed to disappointment, but something steadier and safer than she had ever seen from him before.
This was after finding out his father was close by. Mikael had comforted him by offering the training lessons so Beckett could defend himself. That had stopped the tears and the fears all at once.
Mikael reflected Beckett’s happiness. The bond between them was deepening so naturally it almost frightened her.
Mikael read to Beckett each evening before bed despite the absurdity of a king spending hours sprawled across carpets beside a child while attempting dramatic voices for adventure stories. Beckett adored every second of it.
Sometimes Lyra would pause outside late at night and hear laughter drifting beneath the door while Mikael pretended annoyance after being corrected on details from previous chapters.
Other nights the laughter never came, and those nights were harder. The nightmares had not disappeared simply because they now lived inside castle walls. Beckett still woke up trembling sometimes, crying out from dreams filled with memories too large for a little boy to carry alone.
More than once, Lyra rushed into his room expecting panic only to stop short in the doorway because Mikael already sat beside Beckett on the bed.
The little boy would bury his face against Mikael’s chest, small hands clutching desperately at the fabric of the king’s shirt as quiet sobs shook his body.
Mikael simply held him. “You are safe,” Mikael murmured quietly, one large hand smoothing through Beckett’s curls. “Nothing will touch you here. I swear it.”
Beckett sniffled. “Promise?”
“I do not make promises lightly.”
Lyra had stood there silently for several moments before retreating without either of them noticing her. Somewhere during that moment, something shifted irrevocably inside her. Beckett trusted him now, not as a king or protector, but as family. And that presented a slight problem.
She turned away from the window and headed for the library. It was her favorite room in the castle and a private shield from public eyes.
“You look miserable.”
Lyra glanced up from the half-finished embroidery resting forgotten in her lap to find Malaya lounging carelessly across a velvet chair near the fireplace, dark eyes sharp with amusement.
“I’m not miserable.”
“You have been staring at the same stitch for ten minutes.”
Lyra sighed softly before setting the fabric aside altogether. “Maybe I’m tired.”
“You’re anxious.”
Malaya always spoke with terrifying directness, which Lyra suspected was precisely why Mikael trusted her so deeply.
Snow battered lightly against the windows while silence stretched between them. “Can I ask you something?”
“Only if you want a straight answer.”
Before she could lose her nerve, Lyra blurted it out. “I know what Mikael is.”
Malaya’s expression didn’t change other than one eyebrow rose. “He told you?”
“No.” Lyra swallowed. “I saw it myself while he was unconscious.”
There was no shock or denial. Malaya merely leaned back further into the chair. “And?”
Lyra blinked. “And… that’s your response?”
“What did you expect? Screaming? Dramatic declarations?” Malaya snorted softly. “The entire royal bloodline carries dragon blood. Some stronger than others.”
“But Mikael…” Lyra hesitated. “He’s different.”
“Yes,” Malaya said simply. “He is.”
The fire cracked softly between them.
Lyra lowered her voice. “Sometimes when he looks at me, it feels like something inside him is watching too.”
Malaya smiled faintly at that. “That would be the dragon.”
A shiver ran through Lyra despite the warmth of the room. “He frightens me sometimes.”
“Good.” Malaya’s gaze sharpened. “He should. Mikael was raised to become a weapon long before he became a king. Most rulers crave power. Mikael was shaped by it.” Then her expression softened slightly. “But he would burn this entire kingdom to ash before allowing harm to come to you or Beckett.”
Lyra stared at her.
Malaya tilted her head. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?”
“That man is catastrophically in love with you.”
Heat rushed instantly into Lyra’s face. “Malaya…”
“I am serious.” She laughed softly at Lyra’s horrified expression. “Humans think love is fragile because human affection changes so easily. Dragons are not built that way. When one chooses…” She paused carefully. “It becomes permanent and absolute. Oh, and highly possessive.”
Lyra’s pulse quickened uneasily. “And Mikael?”
Malaya’s voice gentled unexpectedly. “Mikael has never looked peaceful a single day in his life until you arrived.”
That night Lyra couldn’t sleep. The wind howled against the castle towers while moonlight spilled across Mikael’s chambers where the fire had burned low. Though exhaustion tugged heavily at her body, her thoughts refused to quiet.
Mikael noticed immediately. He always noticed. “You’re troubled. Talk to me.”
Lyra stared upward at the canopy overhead for several moments before finally whispering, “What if this isn’t real?”
Silence settled between them. Mikael shifted closer. “Explain.”
She swallowed hard. “I know you care about me,” she admitted softly. “But sometimes I wonder if you only feel responsible for me because I saved your life, and now everything has become too complicated to undo.”
Mikael went utterly still. Lyra forced herself to continue despite how vulnerable the words felt.
“I don’t belong here. Everyone sees it.” Her voice cracked slightly.
“And I’m afraid that eventually I’ll wake up one day and realize I’ve disappeared completely into your world until there’s nothing left of me anymore. ”
For a long moment Mikael said nothing. Then he slowly reached for her hand beneath the blankets and laced their fingers together.
“I have spent my entire life surrounded by people,” he said quietly, “yet I have never once felt peace beside another person until you.”
Lyra’s breath caught. Mikael’s gaze held hers in the darkness, frighteningly open now in ways she had never seen before.
“My dragon recognized you before I did, even while under the influence of the toxins.” His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles.
“I fought it at first because dragons are possessive creatures by nature, and I didn’t want you trapped by something you didn’t choose.
” His jaw tightened slightly. “But it changed nothing.”
Emotion thickened painfully in Lyra’s throat.
“When I’m with you,” he admitted softly, “I don’t feel like a king or a weapon. For the first time in my life, I feel…” He paused, almost struggling with the word. “Human.”
Tears blurred Lyra’s vision instantly. Mikael lifted one hand carefully to her face as though she were something infinitely fragile.
“You are not an obligation,” he said firmly. “You are the only thing in this world I cannot bear losing.”
Something inside her finally broke open then. Years of loneliness and feeling unwanted except in temporary ways that always came with conditions attached vanished. All the years of believing love was something fragile people eventually withdrew once disappointment arrived just disappeared.
Because Mikael looked at her like home. When he kissed her, it felt nothing like hunger and everything like surrender.
Lyra curled against him while his arms wrapped around her with fierce tenderness, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, she allowed herself to believe she might truly be loved without limit or expiration.
Mikael made no movement to remove their clothes. Instead, his fingers slid down her neck and across her belly. His kisses were deep and drugging, and her body screamed for him. She tried to reach for him, but he just kissed her harder to keep her still.
His fingers trailed between her legs and slid under her panties.
She was already wet with desire, and his fingers found the sensitive little nub hidden in her folds.
Her legs automatically shifted to give him better access, and he slowly - so very slowly - started twirling his fingers in such a way that her body responded immediately.
She moaned and tried to buck her hips to get more pressure, but his hand flattened against her belly and held her still.
He pulled his head back and kissed her neck. “Keep moving and I won’t touch you again.”
His sexy threat made her freeze. His fingers started their passionate, albeit light, assault on her button.
“Just relax, my love. This is all for you.”
My love.
The words echoed in her head even as passion took over and orgasm approached to the point that thought was impossible. He teased and swirled until she squirmed uncontrollably. His kisses kept her dizzy and several times he had to muffle her moans of pleasure.
Just when she didn’t think she could take another moment, he increased the pressure and his fingers worked magic.
“Come for me, baby.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before his mouth crashed down on hers and their tongues danced while her body exploded. She cried out in pleasure, but he captured her sound and slowed his assault.
Afterwards, he held her close. Even though she felt guilty that the pleasure hadn’t been reciprocated, she snuggled close.
Sleep came quickly, and somewhere just this side of a dream, she thought she heard those three little words that meant everything.
Screaming shattered the quiet just before dawn. Lyra jolted awake instantly as castle bells began ringing violently somewhere below.
Mikael was already moving.
By the time Lyra reached the corridor wrapped hastily in a robe, guards were flooding through the castle halls with drawn weapons while panic spread rapidly among servants.
“What happened?” she demanded breathlessly. Beckett ran to her carrying a wooden sword.
One guard looked pale beneath his helmet. “A body was found near the eastern tower.”
Cold dread slithered instantly down her spine. Mikael appeared moments later, fully dressed despite the early hour, his expression carved from ice.
“You and Beckett stay here,” he ordered.
Lyra ignored him immediately and picked up Beckett. They followed anyway. When they arrived in the eastern corridor, the sharp coppery smell of blood rose all around them.
She managed to turn Beckett’s face into her neck before he saw the dead guard who lay crumpled beside the wall. His throat had been slashed so brutally crimson still stained the surrounding stone. Several shaken soldiers stood nearby.
Mikael crouched beside the body.
“There were documents missing from his satchel,” one guard said hoarsely. “He was bringing evidence to the council when someone intercepted him.”
Lyra’s stomach twisted violently.
“What evidence?” Mikael asked.
The guard hesitated. “Proof of Skelvarn sympathizers operating inside the castle.”
Mikael rose slowly to his feet. “Who knew he carried this information?”
“Only a few people,” the guard answered shakily. “Including Commander Dag.”
A terrible feeling settled instantly in Lyra’s chest.
Mikael’s expression darkened with terrifying stillness. “Where is he now?”
“No one can find him, Sire.”
Dag was gone.