He met her gaze. His voice was calm.
"Yes. I did."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. She gently placed Nyx on the ground. The Shadowcat sensed the sudden tension in the air. It let out a low hiss and melted into the shadows at the base of a tree, disappearing from sight.
"You used me," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "You used my pet. You lied to me."
"I'm outside the palace walls," Ivan said, his voice steady. "And I am not going back."
"Oh, you're going back," she replied, a cold smile on her face. "Even if I have to drag your unconscious body all the way to the palace gates."
She started to stretch her legs, her movements fluid and predatory. She was like a panther getting ready to pounce. "You are doing this with the wrong person, Ivan. In this family, after Alaric, I am the strongest. You know you can't win."
"I know," Ivan said. He took a step back and got into a clumsy fighting stance. He was ready to fight.
Lyra scoffed. "This will be quick."
She lunged forward.
The fight began. It was completely one-sided. Lyra was a blur of motion.
She threw a high kick aimed at his head. Ivan barely managed to raise his arms to block it. The force of the blow made his arms go numb. The impact sent a painful shock all the way to his shoulders.
She did not give him time to recover. Her first kick was still echoing in his bones when she followed up with a low sweep, her leg cutting through the air like a scythe. Ivan jumped back, stumbling on the uneven ground.
"You're slow," she taunted, circling him. Her movements were light and effortless. "You're still just a boy playing at being a soldier."
"I've heard that a lot lately" he said before throwing a desperate punch. It was a clumsy, telegraphed move. She sidestepped it easily. As he stumbled past her, she landed a sharp kick to his ribs. He grunted in pain, the air forced from his lungs.
He tried to create distance, but she was relentless. She closed the gap instantly. She threw a series of three quick kicks—one at his thigh, one at his stomach, one at his shoulder. He blocked the first, took the second, and dodged the third. Each movement was a struggle.
"Is this all you have?" she asked, her voice laced with disappointment. "After all that time at the academy?"
He knew he could not win this way. He was just a punching bag. He was just waiting for his moment. He needed to make her commit.
He feigned a stumble, making it look like his ankle had twisted. He let out a small cry of pain. He was luring her in.
She saw the opening. She saw his fake injury and believed it was real. She moved in for a final, disabling kick. It was aimed at his chest, a powerful strike designed to knock the wind out of him and end the fight.
As her leg swung toward him, Ivan did not try to block.
Instead, his hand darted into his sleeve. He pulled out a small, crudely made dart. The tip was dark with a sticky, black substance.
It was a tranquilizer he had prepared. While "grabbing the tracking kit" in the stables, he had actually gone to the veterinary supplies. He had taken a powerful sedative used for large beasts, like the Gryphons in the royal aviary.
He threw it. It was not a skilled throw. It was a desperate flick of the wrist. But at this close range, it did not miss.
The dart pricked her in the shoulder. It was a tiny sting, but she felt it.
She froze. Her final kick stopped mid-air, just inches from his chest. She looked down at the small, dark dart sticking out of her shoulder. Then she looked back at Ivan. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and a deep, cutting betrayal.
"You... cheated," she whispered.
"Yep, I Don't Fight Fairly." He answered calmly.
The tranquilizer worked fast. Her muscles began to feel heavy, like they were made of lead. Her vision started to blur at the edges.
She tried to take a step forward, to finish the fight, but her leg would not obey. She stumbled to her knees, her body suddenly weak and unresponsive.
Ivan stood over her, his expression grim. There was no victory in his eyes. There was only regret.
"I'm sorry, Lyra," he said, his voice quiet. "But I told you I wasn't going back."
He walked to her horse. He took her masterfully crafted bow and the quiver of her special silver-tipped arrows. He also took one of her waterskins.
He walked back to her. He placed her own waterskin on the ground beside her, within her reach.
"The sedative will wear off in a few hours," he said. "You will be fine."
He got on his horse. He looked down at his furious, paralyzed sister kneeling in the dirt.
"I will come back for you, and I'll apologize properly," he promised. "And I will save our brother."
He turned the horse and galloped down the road toward the Golden Plains.
---
Back at the palace, the hallways were quiet. The sun had set, and the torches cast long, flickering shadows on the marble walls.
There was a soft knock on the door to Ivan's chambers.
"Ivan?"
It was Gareth's voice. It was calm and academic.
"Ivan, can I come in?"