Six days.
Lyra had counted every one.
Not intentionally. Just the bond made it impossible not to. Distance stretched it thin like wire pulled taut, and every morning she woke wondering if today he'd cross back into Aurelia's borders and she'd feel that silver heat flare bright again.
She was in the kitchens when it happened.
Not supervising. Actually working. Hands sticky with flour because the head cook had looked at her funny when she'd offered to help.
Lyra had decided proving herself useful was better than pacing her chambers for the sixth day in a roll.
The bond suddenly ignited. It was sharp and sudden in her chest.She dropped the dough immediately.
"My lady?" The cook's concern barely registered.
Lyra was already moving out the kitchen door. Through the corridor and into the courtyard.
She stopped herself halfway across the cobblestone floors.
Don't run. You're a noble. Be composed.
But her heart didn't care about composure.
