Lyssara smirked. “That’s what men always say before they end up hexed or heartbroken.”
Nythir stood, stretching out stiff muscles. He had learned quickly that reacting to Lyssara’s taunts only encouraged her.
He stepped closer to the fire and adjusted a loose blanket over Esther’s shoulder. The glow beneath her skin softened under the fabric, her magic humming quietly, as if soothed.
“She can keep her secret,” he said. “At least until she’s ready to use her real name again.”
Lyssara’s grin softened. Vorrik snorted, tossing another branch into the fire. “This is going to be fun.”
Nythir didn’t disagree.
The fire cracked, scattering sparks into the dark. They rose like tiny fragments of gold, drifting upward before fading into the trees—just like her magic.
“It’s settled then,” Nythir said, positioning himself between Essie and the open forest. “We should rest before the forest becomes too active.”
7
Lucy
How to avoid consequences: cry strategically and weaponize eyeliner.
“Try not to die stupid!” she had shouted—and then the world had erupted in gold.
The sky above the palace still glowed faintly, the aftershocks of Esther’s magic flickering across the clouds like fading veinsof lightning. Lucy watched the last ripple disappear behind the mountains, her stomach dropping with it.
Boom!
A golden lightning strike flashed in the distance, shaking the castle walls. She winced. That definitely wasn’t subtle.
Heavy footsteps thundered toward Esther’s chambers.
Lucy slapped her cheeks, inhaled sharply, and prepared herself.
It was her time to shine.
She straightened her apron, lifted her chin, arranged her expression into something perfectly balanced between tired and annoyed, then stepped directly into their path.
“What’s all the racket?” she demanded, voice sharp with perfectly executed confusion.
The tallest guard lifted his lantern, the light spilling across the hall. “We were tasked with investigating this wing. Including the Princess’s chambers.”
“She is already asleep,” Lucy said immediately. “Her magic lesson today was very draining.”
The shorter guard puffed out his chest. He always looked like a toad trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t a toad. “We must see her with our own eyes for the report.”
Lucy blinked slowly. Then, with the kind of icy calm that could curdle milk, she repeated: “You mean to tell me… you wish to enter the Princess’s chambers. While she is asleep.”
The firelight caught her eyes just right, and both guards instinctively stepped back.
“It is a matter of security!” the short one insisted, voice cracking straight through bravado.
“No,” Lucy hissed, stepping into his space so forcefully he nearly tripped over his own boots. “It is a matter of respect. I watch her day in and day out. I greet her in the morning and send her off to slumber. I guard her more fiercely than anyknight in this entire glittering prison. And you think you can stroll into Princess Esther’s bedroom after I have told you she is asleep?”
Her voice rose—not theatrically, not intentionally, but with real emotion. Real fear. Real fury. She didn’t need to pretend anymore; her heart had already broken open.
“I wonder,” she said softly, dangerously, “what punishmenthis majestywill give you when I inform him that low-ranking guards attempted to violate the sleeping Princess’s privacy.”
The taller guard paled. “F-f-forgive us. It is as you say. We will report she is safe in her chambers. Please—please do not speak of this.”
