“The Moonstone isn’t some trinket you dig out to impress a lover!” Cyrus snapped. “Our ancestors died sealing it. That forest doesn’t forgive intruders—it devours them.”
But Kael’s expression didn’t waver.
“Those wards will tear you apart,” Cyrus warned. “The forest has a mind of its own. So does the stone. You might not come back.”
“I will,” Kael murmured. “Because she asked me to. And that’s enough.”
He did return. And he did bleed.
---
Lyra’s POV
That night, when I opened the door, the air reeked of blood and pine.
Kael stood in the doorway like a storm dragged through the dirt—mud-streaked, his ribs bound, blood caked across his temple. He didn’t bring a flower this time. No token of apology. I already knew why. He’d sent the prize ahead—to her.
“There was a rogue ambush,” he said finally, voice low, gaze averted.
I tilted my head slightly. “Of course there was.”
He nodded stiffly. “I’ll be gone for a while. Maybe a week. I need to heal.”
“Then rest,” I said quietly. “Take all the time you need.”
He hesitated, eyes narrowing as if searching for something beneath my calm. “You’re not going to ask what really happened?”