The Girl with Sapphire Eyes

Chapter 15 - Exposed

Lyra's POV

I winced as the car hit a pothole, sending a jolt of pain through my still-aching ribs. The driver murmured an apology, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror. I forced a smile, pretending the pain wasn't as severe as it actually was.

When I reached into my pocket for my phone, my fingers brushed against the small business card Zander had given me. *A direct line. If you need assistance. Any kind of assistance. Day or night.* His words echoed in my mind, troubling and comforting in equal measure. Why would the Crown Prince give me his personal number?

The injuries I was hiding had come from Monday evening—not from Claudia's escalating abuse, as the princes clearly suspected, but from something far more dangerous. The bruise on my cheek from Claudia's slap days earlier was already fading, but the wounds from the forest attack were still fresh, painful reminders of how exposed I'd become.

It had started with Claudia's reaction to Eric's invitation. She'd been waiting when I arrived home Monday evening, her posture rigid, eyes cold with fury.

"Is it true?" she'd demanded. "Did Prince Eric Nightshade invite you to the royal ceremony?"

"It's just because of my father's position—" I'd started.

"Don't lie to me," she'd hissed. "What did you do to attract their attention? What have you told them?"

Her threats had been clear: decline the invitation or face consequences that would ruin my father's career. I'd agreed, desperate to protect him, but the confrontation had left me feeling trapped, suffocated.

Later that night, after she and Vanessa had left for their committee meeting, I'd slipped out my window. The forest had always been my escape, the one place I could be truly myself. I'd shifted into fox form for the journey, then to my favorite black panther once deep among the trees.

For nearly an hour, I'd simply run, working through my frustration with pure physical exertion. The night air had been cool against my fur, the forest alive with scents and sounds my enhanced senses could fully appreciate.

I'd been so focused on my emotional release that I hadn't noticed the other presence until it was too late.

The attack had come from above—a wolf dropping from the branches, landing on my back with enough force to drive me to the ground. Sharp claws had raked across my shoulder before I could react.

The wolf had been larger than any natural wolf, its eyes gleaming with sentience that marked it as one of my kind. A werewolf, hunting outside the full moon. When it became clear we were evenly matched, I'd shifted mid-fight—panther to grizzly bear—catching my attacker completely off guard.

The shock in its eyes at witnessing my transformation had been unmistakable. When I'd shifted again to bull elk, lowering massive antlers for a charge, it had fled into the darkness.

But the damage was done. Four parallel gashes across my right shoulder, a bite on my left forearm, and bruising along my ribs from the initial impact. I'd treated the wounds myself, bandaged them carefully, and created a cover story about a hiking accident.

Now, two days later, the injuries were healing but still painful. My slow healing was one of the trade-offs of my abilities—faster than human recovery, but much slower than normal werewolves.

"We've arrived, Miss Stone," the driver announced, pulling into our circular driveway.

"Thank you, James," I murmured, gathering my bag and preparing for the painful process of exiting the vehicle.

He hurried around to open my door, offering his arm for support. I hesitated, then accepted the assistance, grateful for the momentary kindness.

"Will you be requiring the car again today?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so." I glanced toward the house, noting with relief that neither Claudia's nor Vanessa's cars were in the driveway.

"Mrs. Stone mentioned she and Miss Vanessa would be out most of the evening—something about dinner with the Montgomery family," James replied. "She asked me to let you know that your dress fitting has been rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon."

Relief washed over me, though it was tinged with anxiety about tomorrow's appointment. How was I going to hide my injuries during a dress fitting? The claw marks and extensive bruising would be impossible to conceal.

Inside the house, I dropped the pretense of wellness, moving carefully to my bedroom where I examined my injuries in the bathroom mirror. The claw marks on my shoulder were red but healing. The bite on my forearm was shallow but tender. Most concerning were the bruises across my ribcage—a mottled tapestry that made every breath conscious effort.

After rewashing and rebandaging everything, I made my way to the kitchen for a simple meal. My thoughts kept returning to the attack. Who had the wolf been? Why target me specifically? And most troubling—what had prompted them to shift outside the full moon to hunt me?

The timing was disturbing. The attack had come just after Eric's invitation, just after Claudia's violent reaction. Could there be a connection?

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed my phone's vibration. The message was from an unknown number: *This is Zander Nightshade. I got your number from the school directory. Confirming this is the correct number for Lyra Stone.*

My pulse quickened. After several minutes of deliberation, I typed back: *Yes, this is Lyra.*

His response came almost immediately: *Thank you for confirming. I wanted to follow up on our conversation from yesterday. Have you given any more thought to attending the royal ceremony?*

*I'm still weighing my options*, I replied carefully.

*Of course. For what it's worth, both Eric and I believe you would be safer at the royal ceremony. The controlled environment offers better security.*

Safer. Security. His word choices were deliberate, suggesting he knew more about potential threats than he was saying.

*My brother wanted me to convey that he hopes your injuries are healing well. We were both concerned after observing your discomfort today.*

Heat rose to my cheeks. So they had noticed my condition and discussed it.

*Please thank him for his concern*, I wrote back. *It was just a minor accident. Nothing serious.*

*I'm sure*, Zander replied, the brevity suggesting he didn't believe my explanation. *Should you have any questions about the ceremony—or anything else—you have my number.*

*Thank you, Your Highness.*

*Zander*, came the immediate correction. *Good evening, Lyra.*

I set my phone aside, emotions churning. The twins' coordinated interest was becoming impossible to ignore. They were watching me closely, communicating about me, offering protection. But why?

The sound of a car in the driveway pulled me from my thoughts. I hurried to my room, ensuring my silver hair was properly loose around my shoulders—I never wore the wig at home.

Footsteps on the stairs announced my father's return. A gentle knock sounded on my door.

"Lyra? Are you awake?"

"Yes, Dad," I called, opening the door to find him still in his formal palace attire. He looked tired but satisfied.

"I just wanted to check on you," he said, his expression softening. "James mentioned you seemed to be moving stiffly today—he was concerned you might be injured."

I silently cursed the driver's attentiveness. "It's nothing serious. Just a bit sore from gym class."

My father studied me for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For a brief second, I wondered if he saw more than he let on, if there was more to his concern than simple parental worry.

"If you need to see a doctor—" he began.

"I don't," I assured him quickly. "Really, I'm fine."

"Alright." He hesitated, then added, "I wanted to mention that you've been invited to the royal full moon ceremony. It's quite an honor—the royal family rarely includes non-nobles in their private ceremonies."

"I know," I replied carefully. "I haven't decided if I'll attend yet."

His brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't you? It's an exceptional opportunity."

"I'm just not sure I'd feel comfortable in such an elite gathering," I said. "I don't know the proper protocols."

My father smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of silver hair back from my face. The gesture was so rare, so precious, that my throat tightened with emotion.

"You'll do fine," he assured me. "You're more capable than you give yourself credit for, Lyra. You remind me so much of your mother sometimes."

The comparison was both precious and painful. I wished I could ask him more about her, about the abilities I might have inherited, about why my silver hair and blue eyes mirrored hers exactly.

But the moment passed too quickly. The familiar shadow of grief crossed his features before he stepped back.

"I think you should attend the ceremony," he said, his tone becoming more formal. "Both as a representative of our family and for your own benefit."

I nodded, knowing his mind was made up. "I'll think about it."

"Good. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Dad."

As he walked away, I felt the familiar mixture of love and frustration. So close at moments, yet ultimately separated by grief and secrets.

Returning to my room, I retrieved the formal invitation from my desk drawer. The royal seal gleamed on the heavy cream envelope, the silver crest catching the light. What caught my attention were the signatures at the bottom—not just the king's and queen's, but both princes as well. Their inclusion was meaningful, deliberate.

I ran my finger over the signatures, wondering what they signified. A personal invitation? A public acknowledgment of whatever connection they seemed to feel? Or something else entirely?

Moving to my window, I gazed out at the night sky where the waxing moon hung, nearly full. In five days, I would have to make a choice—attend the royal gathering and risk exposure in a controlled environment, or join the general ceremony where my attacker might strike again.

Neither option appealed, yet remaining home wasn't possible. The pull of the lunar cycle affected all werewolves. During the full moon, transformation was compulsory.

I touched the business card in my pocket again. Zander had offered assistance, but accepting help meant exposing vulnerability. Yet their attention didn't feel threatening—if anything, it felt protective, as if they were waiting for me to trust them.

But trust was a luxury I'd never been able to afford. My mother's warnings echoed: "People fear what they don't understand. They might want to use your gift in ways that would hurt you."

I had five days to decide. Five days before the full moon forced a transformation I couldn't prevent. Five days to choose between continuing alone or taking a leap of faith that might lead to salvation or ruin.

As I prepared for bed, wincing at the lingering pain, I found myself hoping the right choice would become clear. Tomorrow would bring the challenge of hiding my injuries during the dress fitting, another obstacle in maintaining my carefully constructed facade.

Despite years of handling danger alone, I was beginning to wonder if some burdens were simply too heavy to carry without help. But first, I had to survive tomorrow's appointment without revealing the truth about what had happened in the forest Monday night.