The scent of honeysuckle lingered in the corridor. Lyra hated that scent. It used to remind her of summer, of Evelyne laughing in the garden with honey on her lips, of Caelum standing too close beside her, pretending he didn't notice the way Lyra watched him watching her sister.
Now it reminded her of rot. Of lies glossed over in perfume.
She stepped through the hallway of the Vellorin estate like it was enemy territory. Because it was. Gilded portraits lined the walls—a parade of ancestors with cold eyes and colder legacies. Her own face had never been painted. Not once. Not even as a child.
"Lady Lyra," a maid whispered with a curtsy, eyes flickering down. Still afraid. Still unsure of how to address the traitor daughter returned as a princess.
Lyra didn't stop. She didn't nod. She didn't blink.
Her boots clicked against the marble with the slow, steady rhythm of war drums.
In the drawing room, she found Caelum.
His back was to her. His shoulders stiff under a navy doublet. He stood by the fire, one hand gripping the mantel like he needed the marble to stay upright.
"You sent for me?" she asked, voice flat.
He turned.
Gods. That face. Still so beautiful it could make bones ache. But now, she could see it for what it was: a blade. Polished. Purposeful. Meant to cut.
"You look different," he said.
"I am."
His eyes searched hers. "You've changed."
She stepped into the light. "Burning will do that."
A flinch. Barely there.
He reached for a decanter on the side table, hands not quite steady. Poured two glasses of wine. Passed one to her. She didn't take it.
"Still don't trust me?"
She smiled without warmth. "Did I ever?"
He looked like he wanted to argue. To say something soft. Something tender. But even he knew better now.
"I never wanted you to die."
Lyra arched a brow. "But you didn't stop it."
Silence.
He drank.
"Evelyne told me it was the only way. That the court was watching. That I had to marry you to protect her from scandal. That it would only be for a little while."
She laughed. Short. Sharp. Like broken glass.
"And you believed her?"
He nodded, slowly. "She said you were fragile. That you'd understand."
Her fingers curled. "Fragile. Like glass. Like something made to be looked at. Shattered. Swept away."
Caelum set his glass down. "She lied to me too. I see that now."
She stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "Do you see it? Truly?"
His voice was hoarse. "I see you. And I see what we did to you."
A beat passed. Her throat tightened.
He was looking at her like she was the only star in his sky. Like he regretted every breath he took without her.
It was almost convincing.
Almost.
"You don't get to look at me like that," she whispered.
"Like what?"
"Like you remember what it felt like to have me. Like you ever did."
His jaw clenched. "Lyra, I—"
"No," she snapped. "You don't get to say my name like it still belongs to you."
He reached for her.
She stepped back.
"You're married."
He winced. "To Evelyne."
"My sister."
"It was a mistake."
"So was trusting you."
The words hung between them like smoke.
He looked at her for a long time. Then, slowly, he dropped to one knee.
"What are you doing?"
He took her hand. Kissed her knuckles. Held on like he was drowning.
"I'm sorry. Gods, I'm sorry. I was a coward. I let them use you. I let them burn you. And I see you now, Lyra. I see the woman you've become. The fire in you. The strength."
Tears pricked her eyes. She swallowed them.
"You think this is strength? Crawling back to the people who betrayed me? Marrying a war prince because I had no other options?"
He shook his head. "You made him choose you. You stood in the ashes and made a crown out of bone."
She yanked her hand away. "Stop it."
"I still love you."
The air fled her lungs.
"You never loved me. You loved Evelyne and tried to make do with me."
"That was before."
"Nothing has changed."
His voice cracked. "I have."
She looked down at him, this man who once held her heart like it was a favor he didn't know what to do with.
And maybe once, she would have wept.
Maybe once, she would have believed.
But not now.
She leaned down, cupped his cheek.
"Then change enough to let me go."
Then she left him there, kneeling on marble that never bore her name.
As the door shut behind her, she didn't look back.
And in the silence that followed, she swore she heard it:
The sound of something breaking.
Not glass. Not stone. Not even pride.
But perhaps... a heart.