Lyra’s POV
The ride back to the palace passed in suffocating silence.
I sat across from the chamberlain with my hands clenched tightly in my lap while the carriage wound down the mountain road. Every uneven turn shifted the wooden compartment beneath us, but I barely noticed. Beyond the narrow window, the forest blurred into dark streaks of green and shadow.
The carriage finally rolled beneath the iron gates of the Black Citadel. As we passed through the palace grounds, servants hurried along the stone pathways carrying baskets of linen, polished trays, and armfuls of flowers. Guards changed positions along the walls. Somewhere in the courtyard, steel rang against steel.
Life continued as though nothing had happened.
As though I had not been carried through the sky on the back of
