The Oracle's ghost had left the cave cold, but the silence she left behind was worse. It was a reminder that they were being hunted, not as symbols or icons, but as two people who just wanted to exist.
Lyra didn't look at the entrance of the cave where the guards were whispering. She looked at Lucian. For the first time, she didn't see the "Executioner" or the "King of Shadows." She saw the way his fingers trembled slightly as he sheathed his sword. She saw the exhaustion etched into the corners of his eyes a weariness that three hundred years of immortality hadn't prepared him for.
"Lucian," she said, her voice cracking. It wasn't a "Queen's" voice. It was just Lyra.
He didn't turn around. "We have to move the exiles. If she could reach you here, her physical army is less than a day's march behind."
"Look at me."
