Lyra’s POV
The heavy iron doors of the Great Hall slammed shut behind us with a deafening, earth-shattering boom that echoed down the long, cavernous corridors of the Crimson Moon keep.
The moment the thick metal severed us from the shocked, terrified stares of the pack elders and the venomous, unraveling fury of the Ice Queen, the suffocating tension in the air didn’t dissipate. Instead, it sharpened into a razor’s edge. I was still walking perfectly in step with the Warlord, my spine rigidly straight, the heavy crimson silk of my gown rustling with every confident stride.
But as we turned the corner toward the royal wing, entirely out of sight of the court, the massive, overwhelming dump of adrenaline finally hit my bloodstream.
My knees gave a sudden, treacherous wobble. The sheer,
