Chapter 28
Lyra
The kingdom did not heal quickly after the attack.
Families mourned guards who had died while smoke damage still scarred entire wings of the palace. The air was faintly scented with ash no matter how many windows remained open.
Yet slowly, stubbornly, life returned.
Workers rebuilt shattered corridors while diplomats who had once fled in terror now spoke cautiously of Mikael’s victory over the Skelvarn with growing respect rather than fear. The whispers surrounding Lyra began changing too.
At first, it happened quietly.
Servants spoke about the way she had fought for Beckett during the attack despite overwhelming odds. Guards who had witnessed her bravery in the ballroom repeated the stories throughout the barracks until exaggerated versions spread through the entire town of Iskavard itself.
The flower girl became the woman who stabbed a Skelvarn soldier to save a child. The commoner became the woman who stood beside the king during the bloodiest assault the castle had endured in decades.
Lyra still didn’t entirely know how to carry that kind of attention. She had let a lot of the past go when Mikael told her the story of Dag’s brother and what had led to the bullying. She had no idea of her father’s involvement since her parents had passed away while she was still a schoolgirl.
And now she was about to watch his trial.
The chamber stood silent the morning Dag was brought in. Heavy tension hung beneath the vaulted ceilings while guards lined the walls in full royal colors.
Lyra sat beside Mikael near the throne platform with Beckett quietly beside her. Nobles whispered uneasily throughout the chamber as she stared at the man who had made her life miserable.
Dag looked thinner already.
The arrogance that had once sharpened his every expression seemed hollowed out now, leaving only exhaustion and grief behind as chains rattled softly around his wrists while guards escorted him forward.
For a long moment he said nothing. Then finally he lifted his head.
“I conspired with the Skelvarn,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice echoing through the chamber. “I assisted their infiltration of the castle and participated in the attempted assassination of King Mikael.”
Dag swallowed visibly before continuing.
“I believed they could help me recover my brother from prison.” His expression twisted painfully. “By the time I realized what the Skelvarns truly were, I had already become part of it.”
Silence settled heavily across the court. Then Dag’s eyes shifted toward Lyra. For the first time since she had known him, he looked unable to hold her gaze for long.
“My treatment of Lyra throughout our childhood was cruel,” he said quietly. “Unforgivable.” His jaw tightened. “I hated her because she represented weakness to me at a time when I could not survive my own grief. Hurting her became easier than confronting myself.”
The words struck harder than Lyra expected. Hearing him finally admit it aloud before the entire kingdom loosened something buried painfully deep inside her chest.
All those years she had secretly wondered if perhaps she truly had deserved it somehow. If perhaps she really had been too quiet or too weak. Tears burned unexpectedly behind her eyes. Mikael noticed immediately and his fingers closed firmly around hers.
He rose to his feet. “Before I sentence Dag, there’s another matter that needs to be addressed officially. Some among you,” he said coldly, “have questioned Lyra’s place beside me because of her birth.”
Several nobles visibly stiffened as Mikael continued.
“She has shown more courage, loyalty, and strength than many born into noble blood ever will.” His voice deepened further. “She protected this kingdom while others betrayed it.”
Lyra’s pulse quickened. Then Mikael turned toward her fully and before the entire court, he dropped to one knee.
“Lyra, if you will have me, will you stand beside me as my queen?”
Shock rippled audibly through the chamber. Mikael didn’t even glance toward the reaction. His focus was entirely on her.
She took his hand and placed a kiss in the palm before she cupped his face. “Of course I will.”
He stood and kissed her soundly. “If any person here believes her beneath me,” he said calmly, “they may challenge my judgment openly now.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Malaya smirked from her place near the wall.
One by one, the nobles lowered their heads and for the first time in her life, Lyra did not feel small.
“As for you, Dag,” Mikael faced the man. “For many years, you were my best friend. I believe for many years, you were a loyal guard.” He paused. “And since because of your betrayal, I found my true love. Your punishment shall be life in prison…”
The room murmured but he held his hand up.
“But for your years of loyalty, you will be incarcerated with your brother.”
Tears openly streamed down Dag’s face as Lyra squeezed Mikael’s hand in approval.
Boden’s body had been recovered from the mountain caves two days after the attack. The news affected Beckett strangely, not with grief or even anger, but mostly with quietness.
Lyra found him later that evening curled beside the window in Mikael’s chambers staring out toward the snowy cliffs while dusk settled across the mountains.
She sat beside him carefully. “Sweetheart?”
Beckett picked at the blanket in his lap for several moments before whispering, “Does it make me bad if I’m glad he’s dead?”
Pain sliced through her chest instantly. “Oh, Beckett…”
“I didn’t want him to find me ever again.” His small voice shook slightly. “Every time someone knocked on the cottage door, I thought maybe it was him.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “I know people are supposed to love their dads, but I hated him.”
Lyra pulled him immediately into her arms.
“You are not bad,” she whispered fiercely against his hair. “Not even a little.”
Beckett cried quietly against her shoulder while years of fear finally seemed to pour out of him all at once. And beneath the grief, another terrifying realization slowly settled over Lyra.
Boden was gone, which meant legally, Beckett had no one.
The thought haunted her enough that later that night she slipped away to call Sherrell from one of the private study rooms tucked deep within the castle.
The familiar warmth of Sherrell’s voice nearly made Lyra cry from relief alone.
“Well,” Sherrell said after Lyra haltingly explained everything, “first of all, remind me never to complain about village gossip again because apparently your life became an actual war story.”
Despite being herself, Lyra laughed weakly. Then her voice softened. “I don’t know what happens to Beckett now.”
There was a brief pause.
“Lyra,” Sherrell said carefully, “Mikael already contacted legal advisors three days ago.”
Lyra blinked. “What?”
“He’s arranging permanent adoption papers.”
Silence.
Sherrell snorted softly. “Honestly, I think that man decided Beckett was his child weeks ago.”
Emotion closed suddenly around Lyra’s throat. “He didn’t tell me.”
“Probably because he didn’t want you thinking he was pressuring you.” Sherrell hesitated. “But sweetheart… people don’t fight and overthrow terrorists for temporary relationships.”
By the time Lyra returned to Mikael’s chambers, her chest ached unbearably with love. She didn’t say a word as she kissed him and pushed him back on the bed.
Several weeks later they returned briefly to her village.
Spring had finally begun softening the brutal edge of winter while melting snow dripped steadily from cottage rooftops and wildflowers pushed stubbornly through thawing earth beside the pathways.
Lyra paused inside the doorway, emotion washing over her so suddenly she nearly lost her breath altogether.
Home.
Mikael stepped quietly behind her. “You missed this place.”
“I did.”
They spent the following days repairing storm damage while Beckett helped enthusiastically despite possessing almost no actual construction skills whatsoever.
Mikael appeared entirely unbothered by it. One afternoon she found him inside the greenhouse while sunlight spilled across his dark hair.
“You know,” she said softly, leaning against one of the worktables, “this place is special.”
Mikael glanced upward and understanding slowly warmed his expression. The place where they had first truly surrendered to each other. Where he had first touched her like something precious instead of fragile.
Emotion flickered quietly between them before Mikael crossed the room toward her. His hands settled gently at her waist. “I remember.”
Then he kissed her slowly beneath the filtered sunlight. Not desperate this time or afraid. But absolutely certain. When the kiss finally broke, his arms remained wrapped securely around her.
“The cottage could remain ours,” he continued quietly. “A place away from court when we need peace.”
Lyra smiled faintly. “You? Escaping responsibility voluntarily?”
“I am capable of learning.”
She laughed softly against him. Then Mikael’s expression gentled into something so open it nearly stole her breath.
“Stay with me permanently,” he said quietly. “Not because you owe me anything. Not because of duty or fear or obligation.” His thumb brushed carefully across her cheek. “Stay because I love you, Lyra.”
Tears filled her eyes immediately. “You already proposed.”
“In front of everyone. Now I’m asking you. Just you.”
She had spent years believing love always came with conditions attached. Yet somehow Mikael kept choosing her freely over and over again.
“Yes,” she whispered shakily. “Yes, I’ll stay with you forever.”
Something fierce and relieved crossed his face before he kissed her again. A small voice interrupted from the doorway.
“Um…”
They turned simultaneously. Beckett stood there clutching a crooked bundle of wildflowers while staring at them with visible uncertainty.
Lyra smiled softly. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Beckett shifted nervously from foot to foot before finally blurting:
“If you’re staying together forever…” He looked between them anxiously. “Can I stay too?” His voice dropped smaller. “Forever, I mean.”