Lyra’s POV
The air in the library was thick and heavy. It smelled like old books, expensive whiskey, and anger. All of them were there. Caspian, Silas, Rowan, Raphael, Jeremy. A wall of muscle and rage surrounding my mother, who sat in a leather chair like she was at a tea party.
Caspian leaned over her, his knuckles white where he gripped the chair. "Last time, Iris. Who are you working with? Who paid you to poison my father?"
Iris smoothed her skirt, her face perfectly innocent. "How many times must I say it? I loved Marcus. I would never—"
"We found the bank transfers," Silas cut in, his voice like ice. He held up a paper. "Large payments. From an account we can't trace. Starting right after the wedding. Coincidence?"
Her calm face cracked, just a little. A tiny twitch near her eye
