A sob catches in his throat. “I wanted to find something to help Sera. To help all of us.”
“And did you?” Eres says tightly without turning around. “Was it worth it, Valcor? Are you proud of this, when you have a daughter the same age?”
His face crumples. “Nothing. She didn’t know anything, and I tried to stop it.”
Darian nods when I look at him. “Only because he was scared.”
My gaze slides to Nythen. He’s still standing, still locked inside Darian’s nightmare, chest barely rising. He looks untouched by fear at all, and that angers me more than Valcor’s collapse.
“Bring Lyra,” I say coldly. “Nythen remains here until I decide what to do with him.”
When Eres holds up a quill, I nod. He jabs it into Nythen’s neck, and the male only twitches. Gripping Valcor by the neck, I throw him out of the cell. “Get out.”
His footsteps echo away as I bend down. “I’ll carry her. Eres, lock the door.”
When he doesn’t move, I turn my head. “Darian. You’re coming with us.”
He follows as if he’s in a trance. I hear a choked grunt from the cell as he tears his erevas free from Nythen, ripping the nightmares away and leaving him in there.
"Kaelen," Nythen says hoarsely. His hand hits the bars. "Let me out, boy."
He got what he wanted.I ignore him.
Lyra stirs faintly, her head tipping toward my chest. Her eyes flicker up to my face, unfocused. “Wielder.”
“Witch.” I tighten my hold without thinking. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Eres and Darian flank us silently as we walk toward the castle. Regret gnaws as we climb up the stairs. She should never have been down there. I shouldneverhave allowed her to remain vulnerable to Nythen. I trusted he would listen to the council’s ruling. I only put guards on her to watch for any unexpected issues.
This happened under my watch.
By the time we reach my rooms, Lyra is awake but quiet, her body stiff with cold as I set her down gently on the bed and move to the fireplace. Dropping to one knee, I coax the flames until the wood catches and heat blooms out. She feels the cold. And her skin was like ice. My lips press together as I build the fire higher than necessary.
When I turn back, Eres has already draped a blanket over Lyra’s shoulders. He checks her hands, her face, murmuring reassurances that she doesn’t respond to.
Darian… I point at the bed. “Sit, before you fall.”
Lyra sits beside him quietly. She draws her knees up, staring into the flames. She doesn’t look at me, and something in my chest tightens painfully.
I crouch in front of her, careful not to crowd her. “Witch,” I say softly.
Her gaze flickers toward me. It doesn’t feel like an insult anymore.
“You’re staying here tonight,” I tell her. “With us. If… if you’re alright with that. Or if you want your own room.”
She doesn’t argue, and somehow that scares me more than if she had.
“Nobody will touch you again,” I say, my throat dry. “I don’t care who they are. That should not have happened, and it’s my failure.”
I failed her, just like I’m failing everyone else. Her fingers curl tighter in the blanket.
“I’m sorry,” I add, and the words scrape like broken glass in my throat.
When Lyra finally lifts her head, her eyes are tired. Distant. But I catch a glimmer of burning coals, her witch-fire dimmed but not extinguished. “I didn’t tell them. About my father.”
I nod. “I know.”
Truthfully, I wouldn’t have cared if she had. Not when I know exactly how Nythen’s interrogations work. But knowing doesn’t ease the fear that clawed through me when I saw her on that floor.
