LYRA
I storm out of Ophelia’s chambers before she can say another word, my hands shaking, my chest tight and my head pounding with everything she just said to me. I tell myself she’s lying, that she wanted to hurt me, that none of it makes sense, but the words cling to me anyway, crawling around my thoughts no matter how hard I try to shake them off. I walk fast through the corridor, ignoring the guards, ignoring the servants who bow as I pass, my steps uneven because my legs feel weak and angry at the same time.
The moment I reach my room, I shut the door and press my back against it, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling. I don’t cry, I don’t scream yet, I just stand there, jaw tight, fists clenched, replaying her voice in my head. I tell myself I won’t let her get to me, but my chest
