Lyanna's POV
The smell hit me first—smoke and sulfur, sharp enough to make my eyes water.
I dropped the ancient scroll I'd been translating and spun toward the Archives' door. My heart hammered against my ribs. Fire in the Royal Archives meant death. These books were thousands of years old, irreplaceable, and they burned faster than dried leaves.
But there was no fire.
Prince Cassian Valtor stood in the doorway instead, and somehow that felt more scary.
"The Archives are closed, Your Highness." I forced my voice steady even though my hands shook. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared at me with those molten gold eyes that everyone in the Five Kingdoms talked about. Eyes that promised pleasure and pain in equal measure. Eyes that had watched a hundred women come and go from his bed, never staying past morning.
I was nobody special. Just a translator who preferred books to people, silence to court talk. The prince had never looked at me before. I wanted to keep it that way. "I said we're closed." I turned my back on him—probably stupid, definitely rude—and picked up my dropped scroll. My grandma always said I had more courage than sense.
"What are you reading?"
His voice slid across my skin like warm honey. I hated how my body responded, how every nerve ending suddenly woke up and paid attention. This was why I dodged the court. Dragons affected people like wine—intoxicating and dangerous.
"Ancient history," I said shortly. "Very boring. You wouldn't like it."
I heard him move closer. Each footstep echoed in the empty Archives. We were alone. Completely alone. The realization hit me like cold water. Everyone else had gone home hours ago.
"Try me."
I should have run. Should have made an excuse and left. But grandma always said my curiosity would kill me someday, and she was probably right.
"It's a prophecy," I allowed, still not looking at him. "About soul bonds. The kind that tie two people together forever, picked by the gods themselves."
"Soul bonds are myths." His breath touched my neck. When had he gotten so close? "Stories for children and fools."
"Maybe." I finally turned to face him. Big mistake. He was right there, barely a foot away, tall and beautiful and dangerous. My mixed blood—the secret that could get me killed—made me immune to dragon thrall, but it didn't make me immune to fear. "But this scroll is three thousand years old. Someone believed it once."
His eyes narrowed. "You can read Old Draconic?"
"I can read seven dead languages." I lifted my chin. "That's why the Royal Archives hired me."
Most people couldn't stand Old Draconic. The letters moved on the page, moving and changing unless you had the right bloodline. Pure people saw only scribbles. Pure dragons saw modern writing. But hybrids like me—we saw the truth hiding underneath.
I'd never told anyone that information.
"Interesting." Cassian reached past me, his arm brushing mine, and picked up the paper. His skin was fever-hot. All dragons ran warm, but this felt like standing too close to a flame. "Read it to me."
"Why?" The question emerged before I could stop it. "You don't believe in soul bonds."
"Humor me."
It wasn't a request. Princes didn't make requests. They made orders and expected obedience.
I snatched the scroll back, annoyed. "Fine. But then you leave."
The prophecy was one I'd been trying to interpret for weeks. Some parts were clear. Others stayed frustratingly blurry, like looking through dirty water. I read the parts I understood:
"When fire meets earth and sky meets shadow, two ties shall mark the chosen one. The first bond is fate, written in stars and blood. The second link is choice, written in hearts and sacrifice. She who bears both marks shall either unite the countries or burn them all to ash."
Silence filled the Archives.
I looked up to find Cassian looking at me with an expression I couldn't read. His jaw was tight. His hands had curled into fists.
"What does it mean?" I asked. "The two bonds?"
"It means nothing." His voice came out harsh. "It's nonsense written by ancient fools."
"Then why are you here?" The words spilled out before I could stop them. "Why come to the Archives after midnight? Why seek out promises you don't believe in?"
For a moment, something flickered across his face—something raw and almost fragile. Then the mask slammed back down, cold and royal.
"Maybe I was looking for you."
My heart stopped. Started again, beating too fast.
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking." He stepped closer again. I stepped back. My spine hit the bookshelf behind me. Trapped. "I caught your scent at the summer fair three days ago. I haven't been able to forget it since."
This was wrong. This was dangerous. Prince Cassian Valtor didn't chase interpreters. He didn't chase anyone. People threw themselves at him, and he accepted or refused as he pleased.
"I'm nobody," I whispered. "You should leave."
"I should." His hand came up, fingers almost touching my face before he pulled back. "But I don't think I can."
The Archives' door banged open.
We jumped apart like guilty children. A royal guard stood in the door, breathing hard.
"Your Highness! We've been looking everywhere. It's Lady Seraphine—she's come early from the Shadow Kingdom. The King demands your presence instantly for the betrothal negotiations."
Betrothal?
The word hit me like a slap. Of course. The Continental Alliance had been pushing Cassian to marry for months. I'd heard the court gossips. Lady Seraphine Nightshade, daughter of the Shadow Dragon King, beautiful and powerful and perfect.
Everything I wasn't.
Cassian's face went blank. "Tell my father I'll be there shortly."
The guard bowed and left.
I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Whatever strange magic had wrapped around us in the darkness shattered completely.
"You should go," I managed. "Your future wife is waiting."
"Lyanna—"
"Go."
He stared at me for one more heartbeat. Then he turned and left without another word.
I slumped against the bookshelf, shaking. That was close. Too close. I needed to forget this ever happened. Needed to forget how he'd looked at me, how my name sounded in his voice.
I looked down at the scroll still clutched in my shaking hands.
And froze.
The forecast had changed.
New words glowed on the old parchment, words that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. Words written in fresh gold ink that seemed to pulse with their own light: "The marked one has been found. Fire has taken her. Shadow will hunt her. Storm will save her. And the choice she makes will drown the world in blood."
Underneath the prophesy, two symbols had appeared.
A dragon made of fire.
And my name.