Mara.
The name hits me harder than any punch.
I thought she was dead. I saw the body. Or what was left of it. Blood on the snow, her silver fur torn open, eyes empty.
But that’s her. Standing at the bottom of the ridge. Taller than I remember. Scarred across her cheek. Eyes like ice, just like mine.
“Lyra,” she says again.
My legs feel like they don’t work.
Rylan steps in front of me.
“Who is she?” he asks slowly.
“My sister,” I say. My voice barely works.
Kell swears under his breath.
Mara tilts her head. Behind her, thirty rogues stand in perfect lines. Not snarling. Not feral. Waiting. Controlled.
“Did you really think I’d let you die alone?” Mara says.
“You are dead,” I say.
Mara smiles. It’s not kind.
“They told you that. Elias told you that.
