The Raventhorn crown still hummed against Lyra’s brow, a low vibration that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. But it wasn’t the crown that made her breath catch it was the silence between Kade and Jaren.
They stood on opposite sides of the glade, the moonlight slicing between them like a blade. Kade’s presence bent the shadows, his storm-colored eyes unreadable, his jaw tight with restraint. Jaren leaned against a twisted tree, firelight flickering in his gaze, his expression carved from something older than arrogance something that knew how to tempt.
Lyra’s mark throbbed. Two sigils now, one etched in silver, the other in flame. Each pulse felt like a choice she refused to make.
The Raventhorn spirits whispered through the trees, their voices fractured and urgent. The wind carried the
