8
(Evanna’s POV)
Evanna didn’t sleep the night after he left.
She lay awake long after Lyra had drifted off, watching the shadows shift across the walls, each creak of the house setting her nerves on edge.
Her body ached, but not from exhaustion.
It was that old ache—the one she thought she buried years ago.
The one that crept in when she was newly pregnant and afraid, whispering, What if he finds you?
What if you’re not enough to protect her?
Now, those whispers were screaming.
By morning, Bramble Glen felt different.
The baker’s wife paused a beat too long before handing her the morning’s flour. A passing merchant stared a little too closely at Lyra’s golden eyes. One of the village boys asked Evanna if her “king friend” was coming back with a carriage of gold.
The worst part?
Lyra was glowing.
She twirled in the bakery like she was made of sunlight. She told everyone her daddy was tall and kind and knew how to fight dragons, even if he pretended not to.
Evanna wanted to smile with her.
Instead, she wanted to run.
That evening, she sat on the porch, her apron stained, arms limp, and watched Lyra chase fireflies barefoot in the grass.
She knew this was temporary.
They had survived for five years because they were invisible.
And now Lyra was anything but.
The door creaked behind her. Old Mira, the healer from down the road, stepped out holding a wrapped bundle of herbs.
“You’ve been quiet,” Mira said softly.
Evanna didn’t look away from the yard. “Quiet is how I keep her safe.”
Mira sat beside her. “The whole village’s been whispering. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“They say he’s coming back.”
Evanna’s throat tightened. “He said he would.”
Mira nodded slowly. “And if he asks you to go with him?”
Silence.
Evanna didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Because the truth was tangled.
She’d never stopped loving him. Not really. Not after that night. Not after waking up to an empty bed or raising his daughter with pieces of him etched in her smile. But love wasn’t safe. Not for them. And not in the world of thrones and bloodlines.
“I can’t give her that life,” Evanna whispered. “Courts and crowns. Enemies at every turn. I don’t want her growing up learning how to survive wolves in silk clothing.”
Mira reached over and took her hand. “She’s already part of that world, Evanna. You can’t protect her from her own blood.”
“I can try.”
“But should you?”
Evanna blinked fast and stood before the tears could fall.
She turned back toward the garden just as Lyra came skipping up the path, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
“Guess what, Mommy?” she beamed. “I found a feather and it was glowing. That means it’s time. Daddy’s coming back tomorrow.”
Evanna dropped to her knees, gently cupping her daughter’s face. “How do you know that, baby?”
Lyra tilted her head. “I saw it in the dream again. But this time… he didn’t leave. He asked us to come home.”
Evanna pulled her into a hug so tight, Lyra squeaked in protest. But she didn’t let go.
Because deep down, she already knew.
The world she built on quiet and secrets… was crumbling.
And tomorrow, she'd have to choose.